Page 7 of Puck Your Feelings

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My phone rings. Dad again.

This time, I answer.

"Before you start," I say, "yes, I saw it. Yes, I know it was unprofessional. No, I don't need a lecture about optics."

"You took the bait." My father's voice is measured, controlled. "That's what concerns me. You're supposed to be better than that."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. "It's handled. The captain already talked to us."

"Good. Make sure it stays handled." Another pause. "You requested this transfer to get away from scrutiny, Jayden. Not to create more of it."

"I know."

"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, you just handed the media a storyline that's going to follow you all season."

He's not wrong, which makes it worse.

"I'll fix it," I say.

"See that you do. And Jayden?" His tone shifts slightly. "Maybe invest in some media training. The stiff answers aren't helping."

He hangs up before I can respond.

I sit in the empty conference room, staring at my phone, trying to figure out how everything went sideways so fast.

Four hours in Chicago. One press conference. Fifty thousand views and counting.

And now I'm spending three weeks in a cabin with Riley Becker.

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

I pull up the team's group chat—added this morning by someone in admin—and scroll through the messages I've been ignoring.

Groover:Anyone see the press conference???

Wall:New guy just murdered Becker's podcast dreams on live TV

Petrov:Is best content Becker has ever produced

Ace:Becker's views are up to 75K??

Groover:Should we intervene?

Wall:Absolutely not. This is hilarious.

Washington:You're not enemies, you're teammates ffs

Becker:Tell that to the Hockey Robot

I should probably say something. Establish that I'm a team player, not the villain in Becker's podcast drama.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard.

Kane:Tell that to the failed comedian

I hit send before I can second-guess it.

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