Page 29 of Silver Fox Puck

I don’t ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean. Because I know better than to get into it with her. Instead, I glance past her, looking for the only person I care about seeing today.

And then—

"Daddy!"

A blur of dark curls and pink sneakers launches into me before I even register the sound of her voice.

I catch Olivia with one arm, her tiny body clutching onto me like she hasn’t seen me in weeks. Even though it’s only been a few days.

I huff out a breath, instantly lighter as I lift her against my chest. "Hey, baby girl."

She pulls back just enough to beam at me, her big brown eyes shining. "I missed you!"

I press a kiss to the top of her head, my grip tightening. "I missed you more."

Lauren clears her throat behind us, reminding me we’re not alone.

"I expect you’ll have her back on time tomorrow," she says, voice clipped. “You have housing arranged, then?”

I don’t rise to the bait. I sent her an email an hour ago with the short-term rental apartment complex I’ll be living in until I find a house. Not that she deigned to read it.

"Of course," I say evenly. Because I don’t fight in front of Olivia.

She doesn’t need to see that. Doesn’t need to feel like she’s a pawn in this game Lauren loves to play. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see it for what it is.

Even as we step off her pristine porch and walk toward my rental car, I can still feel her smugness. Still hear the unspoken words in the way she shut the door.

This is her life.

The house. The influence. The upper hand in court, if she ever decides to go after it again.

And that’s exactly why I have to be smart. Exactly why I have to be better. Because Olivia is the only thing that matters.

And I won’t let anyone take her away from me.

***

The Nashville Eagles facility is new.

Not in the fresh-paint, still-smells-like-construction kind of way. But in the way that it doesn’t feel like mine yet.

I walk through the wide corridors, past championship banners and framed jerseys, past staff I don’t know yet but will be working with every day.

This is my new home.

My new team.

And I need to get my head in the game. I straighten my shoulders as I push through the locker room doors. Time to meet the guys.

The moment I step inside, I get the full picture.

Half-dressed players, laughter bouncing off the walls, the sharp scent of sweat and menthol lingering in the air. Typical locker room energy.

I scan the room, recognizing a few faces from scouting reports, some from previous matchups back when I was coaching.

A group of guys are gathered near the benches—bullshitting, chirping each other, the usual pre-practice banter.

Then I spot him. Jake Williams. Nashville’s captain. Veteran forward. A solid player and an even better leader.

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