Page 31 of The Hockey Pact

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a big girl, Caleb. Besides, I see at least three rookies by the food table who look terrified of the dip. I should go explain that it's supposed to be that color."

"Alright," I said, still reluctant to leave her side. "Find me if you need rescuing."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" she teased, already moving toward the anxious rookies.

I watched her go, admiring how confidently she navigated the party. For someone who'd been thrust into the hockey world just months ago, she'd adapted remarkably well.

The power play debate with Max and the others lasted longer than expected, devolving into a heated discussion about zone entries that had Coach Evans joining in, whiteboard marker in hand, using Max's coffee table as an impromptu tactical board.

When I finally extracted myself, I spotted Riley across the room, deep in conversation with several of our defensemen. She was gesturing animatedly, and they were all leaning in, clearly engaged in whatever she was explaining.

"She fits in well."

I turned to find Luke Peterson standing beside me, beer in hand. Luke had been the other contender for the captaincy.

"Yeah, she does," I agreed cautiously, unsure where this conversation was headed.

"Relax, Matthews." Luke chuckled. "I'm not here to challenge you to a duel for the 'C' or anything."

"Sorry," I said, embarrassed at being so transparent. "I just—"

"I get it. But honestly? Whitman was always going to pick you once you got your personal life sorted. You're the better leader."

I blinked, surprised by his candor. "I appreciate that, Luke."

He nodded toward Riley, who was now demonstrating what appeared to be proper knife technique to a rapt audience. "She's good for you. Team's noticed you seem... steadier since she came along."

Before I could respond to that loaded observation, Zoe arrived carrying several large bags emblazoned with theHat Tricklogo. Riley immediately went to help her, taking one of the bags.

"Cavalry's here!" Riley announced. "FreshHat Trickappetizers for everyone who's tired of chips and questionable dip!"

The team cheered as Riley and Zoe began unpacking containers of food. I watched as Max immediately gravitated toward Zoe, his face lighting up with mischief.

"If it isn't my favorite chef's intimidating sidekick," he said, sidling up to her. "Still determined to resist my charms?"

Zoe didn't even look up from the container she was opening. "Still determined to pretend you have any."

"Ouch." Max clutched his chest dramatically. "Your words wound me deeply."

"And yet, you keep coming back for more." Zoe finally glanced up, her expression stern but with the hint of a smile. "Glutton for punishment or just plain stupid?"

"I prefer 'optimistic,'" Max said, reaching for one of the appetizers. Zoe slapped his hand away.

"Wait your turn, goalie. Team gets first dibs."

"I am team! Very important part of team!"

Their bickering continued as I made my way over to Riley, who was arranging food on the platters Max had provided.

"Need any help?" I asked.

"Can you grab some napkins? These are the messy sliders that—" She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as she looked past me.

I turned to see what had caught her attention. Our rookie center, Marcus, was tipping a flask into the punch bowl.

"Excuse me," Riley said, handing me the tray and marching directly toward the rookie. I couldn't hear what she said, but whatever it was made Marcus look properly chastised as he pocketed the flask.

She returned a moment later, taking the tray back from me. "Sorry about that. Someone needed to tell him that spiking the communal punch is a college move, not a professional one."

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