Page 134 of Off-Limits as Puck

“Nah. First time living anywhere that isn’t freezing six months of the year.”

“You’ll love it. Rain keeps things interesting, coffee’s better than anywhere else, and the women are—” He stops mid-sentence, glancing at Parks who’s shaking his head slightly. “What?”

“Dude’s got a girlfriend,” Turner says. “Dr. Clark. The one they hired for mental performance.”

“Oh shit, sorry man. Didn’t know you two were—”

“No worries,” I cut him off before this gets awkward. “And yeah, she’s incredible. Both personally and professionally.”

“Must be nice having someone who understands the game,” another voice adds. I look over to see a guy who’s probably six-foot-five and built like he enjoys hitting people for fun. “I’m Pocock. We’ve been needing someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone who plays with an edge but isn’t stupid about it. Someone who can score but isn’t afraid to get dirty.” He shrugslike it’s obvious. “We’re a young team. Need some guys who’ve been through shit and know how to handle it.”

The casual acceptance hits me harder than expected. Not because I needed their approval. I’ve never been the type to beg for acceptance, but because it feels genuine. Like they actually want me here instead of just tolerating the management decision to sign me.

“Alright, ladies,” Coach Watson’s voice cuts through the locker room chatter. “Ice time in five. Hendrix, you’re with Parks and Foster on the second line. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Practice is exactly what I hoped it would be. Fast, physical, competitive without being hostile. The kind of environment where you can push each other because everyone’s pushing toward the same goal. My linemates are skilled, smart players who don’t need me to be something I’m not. They just need me to be good at what I do.

Which, it turns out, I still am.

The puck feels right on my stick. My timing’s sharp. I’m hitting passes I haven’t made cleanly in months, finding space that seemed impossible in Boston’s more rigid system. It’s like remembering a language you thought you’d forgotten.

“Looking good out there,” Pocock says during a water break, breathing hard but grinning. “You’re gonna fit in just fine.”

“Thanks. Feels good to be playing instead of thinking so much.”

“Yeah? What were you thinking about in Boston?”

“Everything except hockey.”

He nods like he understands exactly what I mean. “Fresh start’s a beautiful thing.”

After practice, I’m feeling better about this move than I have since the trade was announced. The team chemistry is real, notjust something management says to make everyone feel good. These guys actually like playing together, and they’re making space for me to be part of that instead of treating me like a necessary evil.

I’m heading to my car when I spot Chelsea leaning against a sedan in the parking lot, looking like every fantasy I’ve had about successful women in business casual. The sight of her stops me dead. Not because I’m surprised she’s here, but because seeing her in this context, at my new team’s facility, makes this feel real in a way it hasn’t yet.

“Hey,” I call as I approach. “Thought you were working late tonight.”

“I was. Then I got a better offer.” She pushes off the car, moving toward me with that particular walk that makes my brain forget how to form complete sentences. “How was the first practice?”

“Good. Really good. The guys are—” I stop, noticing she’s got that look. The one that usually means she’s got news I’m either going to love or hate. “What’s going on?”

“My father’s in town.”

“Shit.”

Chris Clark. The man who spent months treating me like a disease that infected his daughter, who made it clear that choosing me was the worst decision she’d ever made. Here. In Seattle. Where we’re supposed to be building something new.

“Chelsea—”

“He wants to have dinner. With both of us.” She reaches for my hand, fingers interlacing with mine. “Nothing formal. Just... dinner. He said he’d like to get to know you properly this time.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No. But I think it might be necessary.”

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