Page 7 of Face Off
Jacko doesn’t answer. Which tells me it’s more like ten.
The room roars again, tension easing just a notch, and for one glorious second, it feels like the Raptors again, before Murphy’s scowl drags the temperature right back down.
“Murph?” I aim the grin at him, though his glare could cut glass. “Don’t say digestive. Too boring.”
He ignores me. Chloe doesn’t. From her corner, notebook balanced on her knees, she tilts her head the tiniest fraction, pen hovering like she might actually write it down. And I’m mesmerised by the way the light catches her long, titian hair.
And my chest does that stupid lurch thing. I shouldn’t notice. Shouldn’t care. But I do.
She’s so goddamn composed it drives me mad. Like every second she spends in this locker room is a chess move, calculated and neat. The more she tries to vanish into professionalism, the more I see her.
Murphy notices too. And he hates it.
Practice is fierce, as always. Coach has us running suicides until my lungs are burning, then throws us into battle drills. Jacko’s steady. Dylan’s a wall. Murph’s playing like every check is personal revenge. The rookies are struggling to keep up.
And Chloe?
She watches. Always watching. Eyes sharp, pen flashing, lips pressed thin like she’s holding back judgment. I shouldn’t notice that either. But I do. Every time I crash into the boards, I find myself glancing over to see if she flinched.
Half the time, she does. And God help me, I like it.
Because it means she’s not as bulletproof as she pretends to be.
After practice, the tension doesn’t break. It sharpens.
Murphy’s waiting until showers are done, until the rookies are gone. He’s pacing like a caged wolf, towel tight in his fists. “This isn’t working,” he snaps finally. His voice carries, even over the hiss of the showers. “She shouldn’t be here.”
I freeze mid-lace. Here it comes.
Jacko looks up, calm but steel underneath. “She’s got clearance from management.”
“Management doesn’t know her,” Murphy bites back. “She’s poison. She nearly wrecked everything once. I’m not letting Sophie go through that again.”
The name hangs heavy. Sophie. That’s the sore spot, the wound that never really healed. Murph almost lost her because of Chloe. I was there. I remember the fallout. I also helped put them back together. Watching Sophie shove Chloe onto the ice that night is forever etched in my brain.
I also know Murph’s love for Sophie runs deeper than any grudge. He’s not doing this because he’s petty. He’s doing it because he’s terrified. Terrified that Sophie won’t understand why Chloe’s here.
And I’d back him to the ends of the earth, he’s my teammate and that’s where my loyalty lies, or at least it should. Except I can’t ignore the pull in my chest every time Chloe looks up from that damn notebook. There’s something about her that I didn’t notice before, during Murphy-gate. I can’t put my finger on it. But now she looks so tiny and fragile, and as though this job is some kind of turning point for her. There’s an edge to her.
I clear my throat, and go for levity. “Come on, Murph. She’s just scribbling notes. Not exactly MI6.”
He whirls on me. “Don’t defend her, Ollie. Not you.”
That hits harder than I expect. He trusts me. Always has. I’m the guy who cracks the jokes, keeps the peace, makes sure the lads don’t kill each other. Murph needs me on his side. And I was on his side; I am on his side when it comes to protecting what he and Sophie have.
And yet, I can’t stop my mouth. “Maybe give her a chance?”
The silence after that could freeze water. Even Jacko looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.
Murphy’s nostrils flare. “No. I’m telling Coach. She’s out.” Then he storms out, towel snapping behind him.
The locker room exhales, all at once.
Jacko shakes his head, muttering, “This is gonna be a nightmare.”
Dylan, from the corner, finally speaks, voice low and cutting. “Don’t make it worse, Ollie. The last thing any of us needs is Murph on the war path.”
I bite my tongue, swallowing down the retort. He’s right. Hell, they’re all right. I shouldn’t be looking at Chloe, shouldn’t be bantering with her, shouldn’t be inviting Murphy’s wrath.
