Page 151 of Power Play
The next morning, the press is on fire. Not just about the game or the charity total raised, butus.
Photos of Sophie standing over Tabloid Girl like a triumphant gladiator. Memes of Jacko holding Ollie back with the caption “Protecting the Himbo.” A video of our high-five that’s been looped to dramatic music. Even the team’s official account posted a photo with the caption;The real MVP of the night? Sophie Hart.
I text it to her.
Murphy: I think you might’ve replaced me as team fan favourite.
Sophie: Finally, some justice.
I grin and stare at the screen for a second, heart thudding with something dangerously close to hope.
Later that day, Coach calls me into his office.
“That speech last night,” he says, arms folded across his chest, tone unreadable.
I brace for it. “Yeah. I know. Probably crossed a line,”
“It was ballsy,” he cuts in. “And it worked.”
I blink.
He gestures toward his laptop. “Socials blew up. The club’s getting tagged in TikToks with ten million views. Sponsors are thrilled. Management’s already milking it for next week’s broadcast package.”
“Wait, seriously?”
Coach gives a dry smile. “You and your emotion-drenched redemption arc are ratings gold, apparently.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Didn’t exactly do it for clicks.”
“I know that.” His smile fades, and his expression settles into something more serious. “And for what it’s worth, I think it took guts. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“This team doesn’t need weekly rom-com episodes at centre ice,” he says. “We need you focused. Steady. Playing your game.”
“Right.” I nod. “Understood.”
“And Murphy?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you need glitter for anything team-related, clear it with me first.”
I grin. “Deal.”
As I leave his office, the viral buzz still ringing in my ears, I don’t feel the urge to top it. No new stunts. No plans brewing.
Because this isn’t about winning her back in one big moment.
It’s about what comes next, every quiet, ordinary day where I prove I’m worth the second chance she hasn’t even fully given me yet.
And maybe that’s the biggest gesture of all.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
SOPHIE
Iwake up the morning afterThe Great Ice Incidentto twenty-three unread messages, three missed calls, and at least a dozen tagged videos of me body-checking Tabloid Girl into the next tax year.
