Page 2 of Cold Comeback (Richmond Reapers #1)

Coach's whistle shrieked. "Again."

The next rep, Gideon cut off my lane with a hip that reminded me why he had a C on his chest.

"You okay?" he asked as I shook it out.

"Yeah. You always this charming?"

"When people try. See what happens when you try harder."

We ended with suicides. My lungs burned. My legs seared with lactic acid buildup. Sweat stung my eyes under the helmet. It felt right. I hadn't felt right in months.

I coasted to the line at the last whistle and bent over my knees, sucking air. When I looked up, Gideon was watching me again. Approval? Curiosity? Annoyance?

Coach gathered us at center ice. "Media day tomorrow. Home opener in a week. We're not a charity. You want to play, you earn it. You want to trend, you can shovel snow in the parking lot for the kids' clinic. Drake, Sawyer—office."

Wren was already in Coach's office, perched on the windowsill like a warning label. Coach took his chair. Gideon leaned against the filing cabinet and crossed his arms. I tried to be a calm, normal adult who hadn't just been escorted here by a man in a death costume.

Wren pointed at me. "Ground rules. Thatcher, you don't go live, you don't cozy up with anyone who says they're a fan journalist, and you don't sing in public unless there are candles on a cake. You check with me before any brand deals. You keep your head down. You let your play talk. Easy?"

"Easy." I meant it.

Coach rubbed his jaw. "We're putting you on a line with Linc and Pluto tomorrow. You keep it simple. Boards to net. No cute."

"No cute," I echoed.

"And," Wren added, glancing at Gideon, "given your… history and our budget, the captain's going to be your player liaison."

I blinked. "My what now?"

"Babysitter," Gideon mumbled. "I make sure you show up on time. I make sure your alarm works. I make sure you learn the systems. If you don't like the word, play like a professional, and I'll stop using it."

"I can set an alarm."

"Good. Set two."

Wren slid a paper across the desk. It had a schedule. Morning skate. Systems meeting. Community outreach. Video. Lift. Media. Skate again. I swallowed.

"You'll get a locker-room keycard. Curfew is midnight on non-game nights, 1 AM on wins, 10 PM after losses."

"Wait. That's… backwards."

"Welcome to the minors," Coach said, with a chuckle. "Nothing makes sense."

Gideon pushed off the cabinet. "Keys." He fished in his pocket and tossed me a fob. "Building access. And this—" He held up my phone between two fingers. "Try not to make me regret handing this back."

"I won't." I took it. Our fingers touched again. Same zip of electricity, more noticeable this time. He didn't flinch. I pretended I hadn't noticed at all.

"Practice at 9," Coach said. "If you're late, you're benched. If you're late twice, you're gone. Reapers don't need more baggage. We've got enough."

"Understood."

We filed out. In the hall, Gideon stopped.

He lowered his voice. "Look, whatever brought you here, leave it outside. I don't care if you were a star once. Here, you're another guy trying not to lose the puck at the blue line."

"I can handle that."

He studied me for a beat. "We'll see."

I watched him walk away, shoulders straight, stride relaxed. I imagined what it would feel like to skate behind him on a penalty kill, his body between me and a slapshot, trusting he'd take it if I missed.

"Drake!" Linc popped up beside me with a towel over his head. "Lunch mission, or are we standing here having feelings about Captain America?"

"I'm not—"

"Cool. We're trying a new spot. Wings, fries, and salad if you're trying to impress the trainers. Pluto's got a coupon."

"I always have a coupon." Pluto appeared on my other side. "Savings are a spiritual practice."

We hit the parking lot, the three of us. The sun was higher and the heat more intense. Jet was out by the doors, skull tucked under his arm, smoking a vape, and looking like a reaper off shift.

"You live close?" Linc asked.

"Hotel for now."

Pluto had a suggestion. "We'll fix that. Team house has a room. Cursed, but like, constructively cursed."

"What's a fun curse?"

"You'll see." He opened the back door of a beat-up Corolla and shoved in a pile of shin guards. "You riding?"

I hesitated, phone warm in my pocket like a small dog begging to be petted. Wren's rules tapped the back of my head. Gideon's eyes did, too.

"Yeah, I'm riding."

We rolled to lunch with the windows down and the radio too loud. Pluto told a tale about a possum in the equipment bin. Linc demonstrated how not to tape a stick. I answered texts from numbers I didn't know with thumbs-up emojis and sent my agent a single line:

TDrake : I'm in

By the time the fries hit the table, I'd sweated out the last of the airport and half of my panic.

Back at the hotel, later, I fell onto the bed without turning on a light and stared at the ceiling.

The AC clattered on with a cough. Somewhere above me, someone thumped the floor.

I thumbed through my timeline, ignored the comments, and liked a photo of a kid in a too-big Reapers jersey holding a foam stick.

My name trended under sports and not under disaster. Progress.

A text came in from an unknown number:

Unknown: 9:00—don't be late

No signature. It had big jawline energy.

I saved the number as Gideon—Do Not Annoy and typed back:

TDrake: I'm setting two alarms. Three if it makes you sleep better

Dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Gideon—Do Not Annoy: It would

I stared at that for a second, then set three alarms. Apparently, I was now the kind of man who listened when the captain told me to do something.

I wasn't in Richmond to be cute or trend. I'd keep my hands quiet. I'd move the puck. I'd earn it.

My phone buzzed again—this time a link to the team's private group chat. BONE YARD lit up with a flood of GIFs of grim reapers doing dumb dances and a single message from Linc:

Linc: if u die of nerves we're not refunding your deposit

Pluto: linc thinks clif bars count as dinner. this is why we can't have nice things

Gideon—Do Not Annoy: Be on time

I sent back a skull emoji because I didn't know the local language yet, but that felt close.

I put the phone face down and told my heart to settle. It didn't listen. Hearts don't, when there's ice in the morning and a captain who looks at you like you might be salvageable.

I slept with my skates in the corner and three alarms ready to prove it.