Page 167 of Shots & Echoes

“I worked for this,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “I earned this. Knox Callahan didn’t hand me anything.” My heart raced as I pressed on, desperation fuelling my fire. “He made me fight. And I’m better because of it.”

The silence that followed felt like a chasm opening beneath me—a void where my dreams could easily fall and shatter if they pushed hard enough. But I wouldn’t let that happen.

“Every drill, every push he gave me made me stronger,” I continued, finding strength in my words as they surged through me like a tidal wave. “I’ve bled for this team and fought through pain you can’t even imagine.”

The Program Lead exchanged glances with the Athletic Director, their expressions a mix of skepticism and pity. But I refused to let them see how deeply their words cut.

“We’ve invested in you,” Chambers finally said, his tone sharper than before, but it only fueled my resolve further. “And I won’t let you throw that away just because of who Knox is.”

I sat in the conference room, the air thick with tension. Their words swirled around me like a storm, drowning out my thoughts and twisting my stomach into knots.

“We believe you, Iris.”

Those words were meant to be comforting, but they felt like ice water in my veins. I could see their eyes—calculating, assessing—as if they were trying to decide my fate based on some invisible scale.

“But public perception is powerful.”

The phrase echoed in my mind like a taunt, mocking everything I had fought for. All those hours spent practicing until my legs burned and my lungs screamed felt trivial now, overshadowed by whispers of scandal that had nothing to do with me.

“We need time to assess how this affects your standing with Team USA.”

The words hit hard, each syllable like a punch to the gut. Time? What did that even mean for me? A man’s mistakes could still define me. Knox’s mistakes—the choices he made that I willingly walked into—had cast a shadow over everything I had worked for.

“No decisions today, but… this isn’t the direction we wanted for you.”

Their pity was suffocating. I fought against the lump in my throat, trying to find a way to express the anger and frustration bubbling inside me. I wanted to scream that this wasn’t fair—that I was more than just a footnote in Knox Callahan’s story. But it felt futile; it was like screaming into the wind.

I stared down at my hands clenched in my lap, willing myself not to cry. This was what I had feared all along—the moment when everything unraveled because of someone else’s choices. No matter how hard I trained or how much heart I poured into every game, it felt like one man’s mistakes in the past could undo it all.

And worse? The realization that no matter how much I loved him—how fiercely I had fought for us—it didn’t change the fact that his shadow loomed over me like an unshakeable curse.

The silence hung heavy as they watched me expectantly, waiting for something—anything—from me. But all I could feel was the weight of their judgments pressing down on me, stifling any hope of fighting back against their expectations.

As the meeting ended, I watched Chambers linger behind, a predatory glint in his eyes as the others stepped out. My stomach twisted, and I forced myself to breathe evenly, reminding myself that I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me.

He leaned in closer than necessary, his breath brushing against my cheek. “Callahan’s always been poison, Evans,” he said, voice low and dripping with disdain. “You think you’re different?”

I met his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. The urge to hit him bubbled beneath my skin, but I gritted my teeth instead. No way was I giving him that satisfaction.

“You’re just his latest casualty,” he continued, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. “The only reason you still have a spot is because Coach Callahan vouched for you. If you're seen with him in any capacity? It’s done.”

My pulse spiked at his words—each one cutting deeper than the last. I felt a heat rise in my cheeks but fought it back, pushing down the anxiety clawing at my insides. This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to use Knox against me.

I stood taller, sharp and fierce, channeling everything Knox had taught me about surviving the hits—on and off the ice.

“We’ll see,” I shot back defiantly.

Without waiting for another word from him, I turned on my heel and walked out before he could say anything else that would dig deeper under my skin. The door clicked shut behind me, leaving Chambers’ voice echoing in my mind.

As I stepped into the hall, adrenaline coursed through me. My heart raced—not just from the confrontation but from the fire ignited within me to prove Chambers wrong.

Knox believed in me when no one else did; I wouldn’t let anyone take that away—not Chambers or anyone else who thought they could control me.

I stood outside the building, breathing in the summer air, but it didn’t feel warm. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on my chest. This was supposed to be the moment I got everything I dreamed of—the jersey, the recognition, my chance to prove I belonged on Team USA. Instead, it felt like it was all slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to clear the noise in my head. I couldn’t let them see me break. Not now. Not ever. They could judge me for what they thought they saw between Knox and me, but they didn’t know the truth—they didn’t understand what we shared was more than just physical.

But I wasn’t that girl who crumbled under pressure or backed down from a fight. I’d clawed my way to this point, sweat and blood staining the ice beneath my skates. If they were going to take this jersey from me? They’d have to fucking rip it out of my hands.

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