Page 111 of Shots & Echoes

“All right, ladies!” Coach Callahan's voice cut through the noise as he stepped up to the front of the room. “Let’s talk about expectations for tryouts next week.”

The room quieted, and I focused on him, forcing myself to look at his face instead of getting lost in Knox's eyes that had seen too much of me already.

“We’ve got a solid group this year,” he continued, hands resting on the edge of the table. “But it’s going to take more than skill to make this team. You need heart. You need grit.”

A knot formed in my stomach at his words. Heart and grit—that was all I thought about lately, but not just in terms of hockey.

He glanced around at us before locking eyes with me again. “I want you pushing each other harder than ever before—this isn’t just about making it; it’s about proving you belong.”

I swallowed hard. It felt personal; it felt like a challenge meant for me alone.

And I could feel it.

Feel Knox looking at me.

It sent heat pooling low in my belly, stirring memories I was desperate to keep buried.

“Know your positions inside out,” Coach added, pacing slightly as he spoke. “You should be able to anticipate plays before they happen.”

“Got it!” someone called out from the back.

“And remember," Coach continued, "no one gets a free pass here. We’re not playing nice; we’re playing for keeps.”

I nodded along with everyone else but felt detached from their enthusiasm as my mind raced back to last night—his hands gripping my hips, that dark promise hanging between us.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that; Knox’s face faded into background noise as I struggled to find solid ground again. All I could think about was how every moment brought me closer to crossing an invisible line that could ruin everything I'd worked for—everything I’d ever wanted.

After the meeting, I spotted Chris leaning against the wall, his easy smile cutting through my turmoil like a lifeline.

“Hey, Iris!” he called out, his voice warm and inviting.

I forced a smile in return as I approached him, trying to shake off the tension coiling in my stomach. “Hey, Chris.”

“Want to grab some food later?” He shifted slightly, his hand reaching out to rest lightly on my shoulder. The touch sent a strange jolt through me—too gentle, too careful. It felt wrong compared to what I’d just experienced with Knox.

“Sure,” I replied, even though part of me recoiled at the thought. “That sounds good.”

His face lit up with that genuine grin of his, and for a moment, it made me feel guilty for what I had been thinking about Knox—what we had done. “Great! There’s that new place downtown; I’ve heard they have killer burgers.”

“Sounds perfect.” I nodded along as he spoke about the menu items. The normalcy of it should have comforted me; instead, it twisted in my gut.

I watched Chris as he animatedly described their signature dish, but all I could think about was how his hand rested on my shoulder—a far cry from the grip that had held me against those lockers last night. Knox's hands were rough and demanding; Chris’s felt too light, like he was afraid to leave a mark.

The guilt twisted tighter inside me. This wasn’t just about protecting myself anymore; it was about lying to Chris—a guy who genuinely cared for me. He didn’t deserve this confusion or my deceitful heart pulling in two different directions.

“All right then,” he said, brushing aside his concern with a soft chuckle. “Let’s meet up at six?”

I agreed again, desperate for the cover—desperate to maintain some semblance of normalcy even if it meant pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

After everyone filtered out of the meeting room, I found myself wandering back to the locker room, though I didn’t even know why. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing off the world outside. The air felt thick, charged with memories that seemed to cling to every surface.

I sat on the same bench where Knox had fucked me yesterday—where he had made me his in a way I never thought possible. My skin tingled at the memory, and I traced my fingers along the cool metal of the locker beside me. The echoes of his voice still rang in my ears, a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me—the roughness of his grip, the heat radiating from his body against mine. It wasn’t just lust; it was something deeper, something that scared me more than losing my shot at Team USA.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t scared of losing the jersey—I was terrified of losing him. Knox wasn’tjust a coach or a momentary distraction; he had burrowed under my skin and taken root in my heart.

The weight of what we had done settled heavily on my chest. I could still feel him there—the ghost touches lingering like a brand on my skin. Had I really given him just my body? Or had I surrendered everything?