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“Hey Iris!” one shouted over to me, breaking my reverie. “Ready for practice?”

I forced a smile, shoving aside my unease about Knox Callahan joining our team dynamic. If it was even true. Which I doubted. Coach Callahan always put the game first. I doubted that was going to change. “Always.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

I turned as more players filtered onto the ice, laughter mingling with the sound of skates. The chatter picked up as teammates filled in around me, and I felt a rush of energy sweep through the group. The familiar faces eased my earlier tension, but a sense of anticipation crackled in the air.

Coach Callahan strode onto the ice, his presence commanding attention. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a faded Crestwood jacket over his typical black workout gear. His hair, once a dark chestnut, had started to gray at the temples—a testament to years spent shaping us into competitive athletes. He held his whistle like a sword, ready to lead us into battle.

“Gather ‘round!” he called out, voice booming over the hum of conversation. The team quickly formed a loose circle at center ice.

“Most of you know who I am,” he began with a nod, but I could see how he glanced at me before continuing. “But I’m here today to introduce someone who will be assisting during our off-season training.”

A ripple of whispers passed through the group, nerves thrumming beneath our excitement.

“Knox Callahan,” Coach announced, “will be joining us for preparations leading up to the national team announcement and our annual friendly with Crestwood’s sister school in Canada.”

The words hung heavy in the air. A few teammates exchanged glances; others stifled nervous laughter. Everyone knew Knox’s name. The infamous incident—the punch that had sent shockwaves through Team USA—was etched into hockey history like a scar.

I could almost hear the thoughts racing around me: Wasn’t he supposed to be in exile after that? Would this bring bad luck? Knox Callahan—the player who’d become synonymous with disgrace—would be on our ice now.

A girl in front leaned over to whisper, “Isn’t he banned from anything hockey related?”

“Guess not anymore,” someone else muttered under her breath.

Coach Callahan’s gaze swept over us, and the room fell silent, tension thick enough to cut. He cleared his throat. “Look,” he began, his voice steady but edged with an urgency I recognized. “I know there’s a lot of chatter about Knox joining us. Let’s address it.”

I exchanged glances with my teammates. Whispers flitted through the group like a restless breeze.

“Knox made mistakes—big ones,” he continued. “Trust me—I wasn't happy with what happened. And quite frankly, I'm not sure I agree with him being here. But USA Hockey and the NHL believe he's done a lot for this sport and for our country. The NHL saw fit to give him this olive branch after everything he’s done. You all know what he achieved before that incident.”

A murmur ran through the circle; some nodded, while others frowned.

“Believe me,” he added, raising his hand for silence, “this isn’t just about his past. This is an opportunity for us tolearn from someone who has faced adversity head-on and still emerged on top.”

“Adversity?” I scoffed under my breath, loud enough for the girl next to me to hear. “More like a disaster.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she didn’t argue.

“Now,” he pressed on, undeterred by my outburst, “I expect you all to treat Knox with respect as he assists me with coaching and training.” He locked eyes with me for a moment—like he could sense my frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Remember,” he continued, “everyone deserves a second chance if they’re willing to put in the work.”

The thought twisted in my gut as I crossed my arms over my chest. A second chance? After what Knox had pulled? He didn’t deserve it—not when people like me worked hard every single day without scandal hanging over our heads.

“Knox will lead drills and share his insights,” he finished, casting another glance toward him before turning back to us. “Let’s keep our focus on hockey.”

A low groan echoed from one of the girls behind me. She whispered, “What insights can he share besides how not to get banned?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that as unease settled into my bones like ice water. We had two weeks until the announcement—a chance to prove ourselves—and now we had Knox Callahan lurking around like a storm cloud threatening to rain on our parade.

“We’ll be focusing on building our skills together as we head into these crucial games.” His gaze sharpened as it swept across us all. “We can’t afford distractions. This is about coming together as a team. Let's get started."

The weight of his words settled over me like thick fog—Knox Callahan’s shadow loomed larger than ever before.

Knox stepped onto the ice, and I felt my heart quicken. The moment he glided across the surface, he filled the space like a storm cloud ready to burst. Bigger than I expected—thicker, with that ex-enforcer build that screamed muscle and power. He wore a dark hoodie that hugged his shoulders, accentuating every inch of his frame as he moved with an easy confidence.

But it was his eyes that caught me off guard. Sharp, calculating, they flicked over the rink like he was assessing prey rather than teammates. Dangerous in a way that went beyond fists; I sensed an intensity in his gaze that made me shiver.

My stomach twisted at the sight of him. Disdain bubbled up like hot oil as I crossed my arms tighter against my chest, unwilling to let him see how much he affected me. This was Knox Callahan—the guy who had thrown it all away for a moment of madness. I shouldn’t have felt anything but contempt for him.

But curiosity nagged at me beneath the disdain. We all watched him grow up on highlight reels, saw his talent before it spiraled into chaos. He had been great once—skating like the wind and scoring goals like it was second nature. Every kid in our town dreamed of being him before violence swallowed him whole.