Page 34 of Guarded Love

She shrugs off her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair before sitting down. "I need quotes from you for the article. Should we find a study room?"

"Actually..." I look around. "It's pretty quiet here. Unless you'd prefer somewhere more private?"

Her green eyes narrow slightly. "This is fine."

She pulls out her notebook and phone, setting them on the table between us. "Do you mind if I record this?" she asks, already pressing a button on her phone.

"Go ahead."

She nods, all business. "Great. So, same questions I asked the others. What's been the most memorable moment for you this season?"

I lean back in my chair, trying to look relaxed even though my heart is hammering against my ribs. "Probably the game against Westlake. That overtime goal against them was amazing."

"You didn't score it," she points out.

"No," I admit. "But I set it up. Sometimes the plays that don't make the highlight reels matter more."

She writes something down, her handwriting quick and neat. "As a defenseman, you're often the unsung hero. Does that bother you?"

"No." The answer comes immediately. "I'm not in it for recognition."

"Then what are you in it for?"

Her question catches me off guard. It’s not just the words, but the intensity behind them. For a split second, it feels less like an interview question and more like she's asking me something deeper.

"The game," I say finally. "The strategy. Finding order in chaos."

She doesn't write that down. Instead, she looks up, her green eyes meeting mine directly. "And how does that translate off the ice? Finding order in chaos?"

There's something in her tone I can't quite place. It's not just professional curiosity. It's something else.

"It's how I approach most things," I say carefully. "Breaking complex situations down into manageable pieces."

"Including people?" The question comes out sharper than I think she intended for it to, or maybe she wasn’t expecting to ask it at all. I pick up on it because she immediately glances down at her notebook as if she can’t look me in the eye.

"People aren't puzzles to solve," I reply quietly. "They're more complicated than that."

The corner of her mouth twitches, and for a moment I think she might smile. She doesn't.

"The others talked about legacy," she continues, steering back to safer territory. "What do you hope the underclassmen take from your time here?"

I consider this, genuinely wanting to give her something useful for her article. "That there's value in doing the unglamorous work. Not every contribution is accounted for and that’s okay. As long as it means the team is succeeding and winning games, that’s what I prefer."

She nods, writing again. "And looking ahead, beyond graduation? What will you take from being a Red Wolf?"

"Perspective," I say. "Learning when to push forward and when to hold the line. When to take risks and when to play it safe."

Her pen stills. "And which are you doing right now?"

I blink. "What?"

"Playing it safe," she clarifies, her voice neutral but her eyes challenging. "With this interview."

I tilt my head slightly. "I'm giving you honest answers."

"Are you?" She sets her pen down. "Because it sounds like you're giving me carefully constructed quotes that your coach would be very proud of."

I lean forward slightly. "What do you want me to say, Willow?"