Page 81 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
"What the actual fuck?" I scrolled down, each paragraph worse than the last. The piece dismissed my research as "alleged," implied I was using Austin for attention, and suggested I was just the latest in his "string of rink side conquests."
"I'm going to fucking end this guy," Austin said, already dialing his agent.
"Wait." I put my hand on his arm, mind racing. "Let me think about this scientifically."
"Kate, this isn't a lab experiment. This asshole is attacking you."
"Exactly. And the most effective counter to misinformation is accurate data presented compellingly." I sat up, brain shifting into problem-solving mode. "If we react with anger, we validate the emotional framing. We need to recontextualize the narrative."
Austin stared at me. "Sometimes I forget how brilliant you are."
I grabbed my own phone, already formulating a plan. "Does the team have a social media manager?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because we're going to craft the perfect response." I smiled, a plan forming. "How do you feel about educational content?"
Two hours later, we posted a photo of us in Austin's kitchen—me in a lab coat over his jersey, him in full hockey gear minus skates. I was holding a hockey stick like a pointer, gesturing to a whiteboard covered in scientific diagrams while Austin looked studiously attentive.
The caption read:
"Hockey lesson #47: Microbiology. When @StoneCold4 isn't teaching me about blue lines, I'm teaching him about bacterial resistance. For the record: Dr. Kate Ellis, PhD, University of Minnesota Department of Microbiology, published researcher, terrible at fantasy hockey drafts, excellent at killing superbugs. Also, 'puck bunny' is so 2010—preferred term is 'hockey evolutionary biologist' #ScienceOnIce #RelationshipGoals"
We tagged both the original reporter and his publication. Within an hour, the post had gone viral in both hockey and scientific circles.
"Take that, asshole," Austin said, wrapping his arms around me from behind as we watched the likes and supportive comments pour in. "Nobody messes with my brilliant scientist."
I turned in his arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss him. "And nobody calls my hockey player 'Stone Cold' except me."
His eyes darkened with heat. "I like the sound of that."
"Good," I murmured against his lips. " Because I'm pretty sure your heart rate recovery could use some hands-on evaluation."
"Of course," he agreed, already lifting me onto the kitchen counter. "I'm fully committed to your research methods, Dr. Ellis."
"That's very generous of you, Mr. Callahan," I said, wrapping my legs around his waist. "The scientific community appreciates your sacrifice."
His laugh vibrated against my neck as he carried me to the bedroom.
CHAPTER 20
AUSTIN
The camera flashes were blinding, each pop like a tiny detonation against my retinas. Media day had always been a necessary evil, but after my comeback game—complete with two assists and a highlight-reel defensive play—the vultures were circling with renewed hunger.
"Austin, how's the knee feeling after your first full game?"
"Any lingering concerns about durability?"
"Stone, talk about that hit in the second period!"
I gave them the usual recycled answers—feeling strong, taking it day by day, grateful for the team's support. The script hadn't changed in ten years of professional hockey, just the injuries we discussed.
Then a reporter from some clickbait sports site thrust his phone in my face, displaying a photo that made my heart skip. Kate and me at the team's postgame celebration, her head thrown back in laughter as I whispered something in her ear, my hand possessively settled on her hip. Her green eyes sparkled, even in the grainy club lighting, and myexpression showed something I'd never seen on my own face before—pure, unguarded joy.
"Care to comment on your new relationship? Dr. Ellis seems quite different from your usual companions."
I could read between his lines.Differentmeant smart. Accomplished. Not the Instagram model or professional "influencer" type that most players dated.
