Page 7

Chapter 7

Paige

T he office was bathed in the soft glow of my laptop screen, the only light breaking the shadows that had settled over the room. It was late—far later than anyone else in the building usually stayed—and the silence was calming. I thrived in this atmosphere. When the noise of the world faded and the emails stopped pinging, I could focus on the task at hand: managing the PR fallout from the team’s scandal.

I had a long list of things to tackle. The statements from the players had to be perfect, the media strategy needed to address the tension without fueling the fire, and every decision had to protect the team’s reputation while ensuring we didn’t lose sponsorships or fan support. This was what I was trained for, and I didn’t mind the long hours. This was my moment to prove I was more than just the new Assistant GM—I was capable, dedicated, and ready to handle whatever came my way.

I sat back for a moment, letting my eyes rest from the screen’s brightness. I hadn’t noticed how tired I was until that moment, but my focus hadn’t wavered. I had to get this right. For the team, for myself. I stretched my neck, rubbing the tension from my shoulders, ready to dive back into work.

I barely heard the footsteps until they were right behind me. I turned, startled, to find Ryker standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but his eyes intense. My heart skipped a beat—I hadn’t expected anyone to still be here, let alone him. He stepped into the office, his presence filling the room with a quiet tension.

“Still working?” he asked, his tone almost casual, though his eyes were sharp.

I forced a smile, though I could sense something more behind his words. There was no way this was a casual conversation. “Yeah. The scandal isn’t going to clean itself up.”

Ryker crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of my desk, watching me closely. “You’re putting in the hours. Impressive. And here I thought you'd bail."

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, or an observation laced with sarcasm. “It’s my job. And I don't run from things."

He scoffed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence thick with unspoken tension. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and it unsettled me in a way I didn’t like. I was about to turn back to my work when Ryker broke the silence.

“Why are you really here so late?” His voice softened, losing its earlier edge.

I glanced at my laptop screen, then back at him. “I need to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow’s press release. It has to be airtight.”

He studied me for a long moment, as if searching for something beneath my words. “What are you trying to prove?"

My hands stilled over the keyboard. That wasn’t what I expected from him. “Nothing,” I said quietly.

“I’ve been hearing things,” he said, his tone casual but his words cutting. “About your time at Michigan. Specifically, about your relationship with the assistant coach. Around the time you left Brendan. Convenient, isn't it?"

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, freezing in place. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I turned slowly, meeting Ryker’s gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. How did he know about that? I had worked hard to bury that part of my past, to keep my personal life separate from my professional reputation.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice calm but with an edge of warning.

Ryker raised an eyebrow. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I heard about the rumors. You and the assistant coach. From what I gather, you did a pretty good job of keeping things under wraps. Even with Brendan, when you were with him."

My blood ran cold. I stood, the tension in my body building. “That’s none of your business,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

Ryker didn’t flinch. If anything, my reaction seemed to amuse him. “It is my business if you’re pulling the same tricks here. If you fucked my brother over because your spread your legs like a fucking slut."

The words stung like a lash, anger boiling up inside me. Before I knew it, my hand flew across his face, the sound of the slap echoing in the empty office.

His head snapped to the side, and for a split second, there was silence. Then his eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous. He grabbed my wrist with a vice-like grip, squeezing it hard enough that I could feel the bones grinding together.

"You have no idea what you just did," he growled, his voice low and threatening as he loomed over me.

I yanked my arm, trying to break free, but his grip tightened. Pain shot up my arm, but I refused to show any weakness. "Let go of me," I hissed, glaring up at him.

His eyes bore into mine, a storm brewing in their depths. "You think you can just waltz in here and do whatever you want? You have no idea what this world is like."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to be intimidated. "And you have no right to judge me based on rumors and lies."

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. "Is that what they are? Lies?"

My pulse pounded in my ears. "Yes. And even if they weren't, it's none of your damn business."

He finally released my wrist, but his presence was still overpowering. "You're playing a dangerous game, Adams."

I rubbed my wrist, the skin already red and tender. "Maybe it's time someone taught you that not everyone is out to get you."

He stepped back, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You're na?ve if you think that."

"And you're a coward if you can't see past your own paranoia," I shot back.

For a moment, we stood there in silence; the tension crackling between us like electricity. His eyes dropped to my lips and for a fraction of a second, I thought he might kiss me.

My core trembled with…

No. That was impossible. He would never?—

He hated me.

“I’m not pulling tricks. I’m doing my job.”

Ryker leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re spinning this whole situation just like you did back then.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to keep my voice steady. “You don’t know anything about what happened back then.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Ryker’s tone dripped with skepticism. “Enlighten me then.”

I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my composure. “There were rumors, yes. But they were just that—rumors. Nothing more.”

He watched me closely, his eyes searching for any sign of weakness. “And why should I believe you? You left my brother at the altar, Adams."

"Did you even ask why he?—"

"You… left… him," he said slowly, like I was an idiot. "Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

“Because,” I said quietly but firmly, meeting his gaze head-on, “I’ve done nothing here to deserve your suspicion. My work speaks for itself.”

"I wouldn't know," he drawled. "It seems like your assistant coach helped you take care of your job, from what I hear."

My heart pounded, frustration rising in my chest. Ryker’s accusation felt personal, and I hated that he had the nerve to dig into my past like this. I took a step closer to him, refusing to back down.

“What happened at Michigan has nothing to do with this,” I said, my voice low but firm. “What happened with Brendan has nothing to do with this. I’m here to clean up the mess you and your teammates made, and I’m doing it because it’s my job—not because I’m trying to spin some story for personal gain.”

Ryker’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read—anger, maybe, or something deeper. “And what about the assistant coach? What was that? Just part of the job? A reason to leave Brendan, who did nothing to deserve?—"

"You don't know anything about what Brendan did to me," I said through clenched teeth. My chest tightened. The memory of that time, with Brendan and at Michigan—the tension, the rumors, the way I had been forced to keep everything under wraps for the sake of the team. But Ryker didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know how complicated it had been, how much I had sacrificed to protect the people involved.

“Again, that’s none of your damn business,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “And it has nothing to do with what’s happening now.”

Ryker studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “Doesn’t it? You’ve got a history of covering things up. And not just team scandals. But things that could break a team, things that could ruin them. Who’s to say you’re not doing the same thing here?”

I clenched my fists at my sides. I couldn’t believe he was questioning my integrity like this. “I’m trying to protect this team,” I said through gritted teeth. “You think I’m enjoying cleaning up after your mess? I’m doing this because I care about the team’s future, not because I have something to hide.”

Ryker’s gaze softened for a split second, but then his guard went back up. “You might care about the team, but I care about my reputation. I’m not letting you twist this into something it’s not. I'm not letting you destroy something and run away from it."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm despite the anger boiling inside me. “Look,” I said slowly, measuring each word, “we’re on the same side here. We both want what’s best for the team.”

Ryker’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he were considering my words but still not fully convinced.

“I’ve put everything on the line for this job,” I continued, stepping even closer until we were almost eye-to-eye. “I don’t need your approval or your trust right now. What I need is for us to work together and fix this mess.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, locked in a standoff of wills and unspoken histories. The weight of our shared responsibilities hung heavy in the air between us.

Ryker finally broke eye contact, looking down at his feet before glancing back up at me with a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered reluctantly, “but don’t think for a second that I’m letting my guard down around you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” I replied tersely before turning back to my laptop screen and diving into work once more.

The room fell silent again except for the soft tapping of keys as I continued typing away furiously while Ryker lingered by my desk—a reluctant truce forged under fluorescent lights and unspoken tensions.

I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, but my thoughts were tangled in Ryker’s accusations. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wrong about me, but also that maybe he wasn’t entirely off base. It made me want to confront him, demand answers.

“Can I ask you a question?” I turned to face him, my voice cutting through the silence. Before he could respond, I pressed on. “What is your problem with me? What did I do to make you… hate me? Is it just the Brendan thing?"

"Just the—" He scoffed. “Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like a child.”

I arched a brow, refusing to back down. “And what’s this?" I gestured at him. "A tantrum?”

He stepped closer, his jaw tightening. “You want to know why I have a problem with you?”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.

Ryker moved even closer until we were almost nose-to-nose. “You come in here acting like you know everything, trying to fix things that aren’t broken. You think your fancy degree and your shiny resume mean anything here? This is real life, Adams. Not some case study. Shit happened at Michigan that you covered up. Shit that you covered up.”

"Which was my job."

"Not at the expense of the team."

I held his gaze, refusing to let his words cut deeper than they already had. “I’m just trying to help.”

He scoffed. “Help? You’re meddling where you don’t belong. And that's not including what you did to my brother."

His words stung, but I pushed back the tears threatening to well up. “So it’s about control? You think I’m here to take something from you?”

“You don’t get it. You can’t just walk in and change everything without understanding what’s at stake.”

“What’s at stake?” I echoed, incredulous. “You mean your ego?”

His face darkened, and he took another step closer until our faces were inches apart. “No,” he said quietly but fiercely. “The team’s future.”

The intensity of his words hung between us like a live wire, crackling with tension and unspoken truths.

“So Brendan is why you don't trust me?” I whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of understanding. "What I did to him?"

Ryker didn’t answer immediately; instead, he stepped back slightly as if considering my question more deeply than before.

Finally, he spoke again—his voice softer but still edged with resolve: “It's not just that,” he said.

"No?"

His eyes locked onto mine. "Trusting people has never gotten me anywhere good.”

"Maybe, instead of coming at me, you should look in the mirror," I pointed out, my voice steady. "We wouldn't be in this position if you hadn't?—"

"Don't you think I know that?" Ryker cut me off, his voice tinged with frustration. "I lost it. Some asshole who's never picked up a stick in his whole goddamn life has the audacity to tell me how to play a sport I've been playing since I was four. And on top of that, instead of just leaving it as it was—hockey—he starts to bring in personal shots. I was already drunk."

"You? Drunk?" I asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with anger and a hint of regret. "Not my finest moment," he admitted, the words sounding almost painful for him to say. "But there you have it. There's the truth."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the soft hum of my laptop. I studied Ryker's face, searching for any sign of vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior. It was clear that he was grappling with his own demons, but that didn't excuse his behavior.

"Look," I said finally, my voice softer but still firm. "We all make mistakes. But if we're going to fix this mess, we need to work together. That means being honest with each other and owning up to our actions."

He ticked his jaw, but he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"And I need to do my job without interference or accusations. Without you letting the past dictate what's going on now."

The air between us thickened, tension simmering just beneath the surface. It wasn’t just anger fueling it. I could feel the heat of Ryker’s body so close to mine, and despite my frustration, an undeniable pull tugged at me. I had been so focused on the job, on managing the crisis, that I hadn’t allowed myself to feel anything else. But standing here, arguing with Ryker, my emotions became harder to control.

I saw it in his eyes too—that flicker of something more, something he was trying to suppress. The intensity of our argument had brought us closer, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was filled with everything we weren’t saying.

I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by him, not now. Not ever.

“I need to do my job without interference or accusations,” I repeated, my voice steadier this time.

Ryker’s gaze bore into mine, his jaw still clenched. “And I need to know you’re not hiding anything.”

“I’m not,” I said firmly. “And you have no right to dig into my past like that.”

“Trust is earned.”

“So is respect,” I shot back.

We stood there, locked in a silent standoff, neither willing to back down. My heart pounded in my chest, the mix of anger and something else making it hard to breathe. Ryker took a deep breath and finally stepped back.

“Fine,” he muttered, his tone resigned but still guarded.

“Fine,” I echoed, trying to steady my racing heart.

“I’m not here to ruin your reputation, Ryker,” I said, my voice softer now. “I’m here to help. Whether you like it or not, that’s what I’m doing. Whether you trust me. And regardless of what happened between me and Brendan, between me and–"

Ryker stared at me, the tension in his jaw slowly easing. For a moment, it seemed like the fight was leaving him, replaced by something quieter, something neither of us wanted to admit.

“Just stay out of things you shouldn’t be involved in,” he muttered, though his tone lacked the bite from before. He turned to leave but not before glancing back at me one last time, his eyes lingering a little too long.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My pulse raced, not just from the argument but from the confusing mix of emotions Ryker had stirred in me. I sat back down, staring at the screen, but it took me a few moments to refocus on the work in front of me.

I typed out a few sentences of the press release before deleting them again. The words felt hollow and inadequate compared to the storm brewing inside me. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples as if that could erase the memory of Ryker’s intense gaze.

Why did he get under my skin so easily? It wasn’t just his accusations or his infuriating arrogance. There was something else—something about the way he looked at me that made my heart pound in a way it shouldn’t.

I shook my head.

No.

Now wasn't the time for distractions.

Especially from him.