Page 165 of Shots & Echoes

Because as much as I wanted to be her anchor, my father’s voice slithered in, cold and unrelenting:

“You’re wasting your life.”

“You’re not built for this.”

“You’re going to ruin her.”

The words were vultures, circling, waiting for me to break.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown them out, but all I saw was her. The way she looked at me in the dark, when we weren’t just coach and player, when the world outside didn’t exist. The way she whispered my name like it meant something. Like I meant something.

But then I saw what would come next. The fallout. The consequences. The whispers, the headlines, the goddamn destruction waiting just beyond this moment.

Would they see her as the fighter she was? Or just another girl who got too close to the coach?

I gritted my teeth, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes until stars exploded behind my lids. I didn’t know what scared me more—that she really did love me, or that I wasn’t capable of loving her the way she deserved.

Because the truth was ugly. Dark.

I was not a good man.

And Iris Evans? She was meant for greatness.

I just wasn’t sure if I was the one helping her get there… or the thing that would finally bring her down.

Chapter 31

Iris

Ihurried home, adrenaline still coursing through my veins from the earlier encounter with Knox and his father. The rain had soaked through my clothes, but I barely noticed as I stripped off my damp dress and stepped into the shower. The water cascaded over me, hot enough to make me gasp. I needed to wash away everything.

I dressed quickly in a simple black dress that hugged my figure, the fabric soft against my skin. I pulled my hair into a neat bun and splashed on some light makeup—just enough to look polished without drawing attention away from why I was really there.

I got back into my car and drove to Pandora's Box, trying not to think about confessing my feelings to Coach Callahan about Knox… in front of Knox.

God, had I ruined everything?

As I approached the conference room, I felt the familiar chill seep into my bones, colder than the rink itself. My heart raced as I pushed open the door, revealing three figures seated across the table: Crestwood’s Athletic Director, the Women’s Hockey Program Lead, and Chambers.

Chambers lounged back in his chair with that insufferable smugness plastered across his face. The gatekeeper. My heart sank at his presence; he felt like Knox’s ghost in flesh, lurking over me like a storm cloud ready to break.

No one smiled or offered any small talk; it was just an air thick with polite tension, as if they were all preparing to deliver bad news.

My chair scraped against the floor as I sat down, each sound echoing in the silence that surrounded us. My pulse quickened—a rapid drumbeat that drowned out all rational thought. But I straightened my back and took a deep breath.

Because I was Iris fucking Evans.

And I didn’t get here by being weak.

I sat at the conference table, my heart pounding in my chest as the Athletic Director leaned forward, hands clasped, a practiced smile on his face. “You’ve had a strong season, Iris,” he began, his voice steady. “Your leadership has not gone unnoticed.”

I forced a nod, trying to absorb the compliment even as my gut twisted. The weight of Knox’s kiss still lingered on my lips; pride battled with shame.

The Program Lead chimed in, “We’ve been rooting for you. Your dedication is commendable. It’s clear you have a bright future ahead.”

Bright future. I wanted to believe it.

But then the atmosphere shifted like the tide, and I could feel it—the tension coiling tighter. The smiles faded into something more serious.

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