Page 10 of The Captain's Curfew
The video has almost half a million views by the time I finish my morning skate.
I don’t check the numbers myself, of course.I hear it from CJ, who’s grinning like a kid who just discovered sugar.
“Captain Grump is trending,” he says as we towel off in the locker room.“Did you know you have fan cams now?One of them is you scowling in different lighting.”
I glare at him.“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
He pulls out his phone and shoves it in my face.Sure enough, there I am, in all my brooding glory.Skating, glaring, lifting weights.There’s music and slow motion and—God help me—sparkles.
"Why are there sparkles?"
CJ laughs."The internet loves a man with a dark past and biceps.You’re basically a walking trope."
I snatch the towel off my neck and head for the showers without another word.But the damage is done.My teammates are laughing, talking, liking, sharing.And I know exactly who’s responsible.
Violet.
I don’t have proof, not directly.But I know her.She’s got that smile that screams mischief and a brain that never stops working.She probably dug up some old footage and thought she’d do the team a favor.And sure, it’s working—the fan engagement is higher than it’s been in months—but still.
I told her not to post anything without checking with me.
And she ignored me.
By the time I get home, my jaw aches from clenching it all day.The whole ride back, I replay the clip in my head.Cornhole.The damn backyard BBQ.Her laughter in the background.The way I smiled—just once—and she caught it.
And posted it.
She’s on the couch when I walk in, legs curled beneath her, laptop on her knees.She’s wearing glasses—thick-rimmed ones that make her look entirely too cute for my sanity—and a blanket is draped over her legs like she’s made herself completely at home.
“Hey,” she says, not looking up.“How was practice?”
“Take it down.”
Her fingers still.“What?”
“The video.Take it down.”
Now she looks up, brow lifting.“You’re serious?”
“I told you not to post anything of me without approval.”
She sets the laptop aside, rising slowly like I’m a wild animal she doesn’t want to spook.“Logan, it was harmless.You were just playing cornhole.It’s not like I caught you crying in the shower.”
I cross my arms.“You didn’t ask.”
“It was from my phone.From years ago.Before I even worked for the team.”
I shake my head.“That doesn’t matter.”
She stares at me, mouth pressed into a line.“It’s good for the team.Engagement is up, merch is selling, and we’re trending for something fun instead of the usual drama.”
“I’m not interested in being a punchline.”
“No one is laughing at you, Logan.”Her voice softens.“They’re… connecting.You act like people caring is some kind of curse.”
“Because it is,” I snap.“They care until you mess up.Until you lose one too many games.Until you stop smiling in the right way and you’re suddenly the villain.I don’t need fans.I need focus.”
