Page 23 of Silver Fox Puck

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The second my feet hit the solid ground of Nashville, I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath the entire flight.

Home.

Not that I spend much time here.

But I like this part—the return, the brief moment where I belong somewhere before I take off again.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, weaving through the crowded terminal, dodging slow walkers and overstuffed carry-ons like a pro. This is my territory. I know the rhythm of it.

And I need the familiarity right now.

Because no matter how hard I tried to shake it, the entire damn flight I was still thinking about him.

Annoying. Infuriating. Completely unacceptable.

I make it to the curb and pull out my phone, ready to call a ride when my screen lights up with an incoming call.

Jake.

I sigh, hitting accept and tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder. "Hey, big brother."

"You back in town?"

"Just landed." I shift my bag higher on my shoulder, glancing at the rideshare pickup line. "What’s up?"

"Nothing much." He pauses. "Oh, actually—big news."

I roll my eyes. "Right. Because you always casually forget the ‘big news’ part until five seconds into the conversation."

He laughs. "You’re gonna love this one."

"Doubt it."

He ignores me. "We finally filled the assistant coach spot."

I barely register what he says. "Uh-huh."

"You remember how we lost Lawson last month? Team’s been scrambling to replace him."

I hum in acknowledgment, already half-distracted, scrolling through the app for a ride.

Jake barrels on. "Well, they brought in some guy with NHL head coaching experience. Supposedly a total hardass but smart as hell. Good rep."

I glance up as a car pulls into the pickup lane, checking the license plate. "Great. Happy for you."

"Yeah, anyway. His name’s Grant Maddox."

My body locks up.

A sharp, ice-water-down-the-spine kind of freeze.

The car door opens in front of me, but I don’t move.

I don’t breathe.

"Kenzie?" Jake’s voice filters through the speaker. "You there?"

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