Page 20

CHAPTER 20

ELLE

T he arena usually feels like putting on my favorite sweatshirt: familiar, cozy, and like I can handle anything. It’s a place where the buzz of activity and the chill in the air make everything sharper, clearer. Most days, it’s like a second home, but today, it feels heavier, like the walls know I’m carrying something I shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong here.

As I step through the doors, Ben’s voice calls out. “Elle!”

I stop mid-step, turning to see him jogging toward me. He’s wearing his usual grin, the one that says he’s either about to tell me something important or ask me to take on yet another task.

“Hey, Ben,” I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in,” he says, his hands settling on his hips. “How’s everything going with the guys?”

“They’re good,” I say, with a nonchalant shrug in my voice. “Focused, working hard. Dixon’s really been setting the tone.” I immediately regret mentioning Dixon. His name feels too loaded after last night, but Ben doesn’t pick up on it.

“Glad to hear it,” he says. “Listen, I wanted to let you know Mitch’s substitute goalie coach starts next week. So you’ll be back to defense only.”

“Great,” I say, forcing a smile. I should be elated, if we were to go off my reaction of being tasked with coaching the goalies a couple weeks back. Ironic that I’ll miss it to some degree. “I’m ready to get back to my lane.”

Ben chuckles. “Not that you haven’t been killing it with the goalies, too. Seriously, Elle, you’re a rockstar.”

Before I can respond, I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“She’s more than that.”

I turn to see Sutton walking toward us, her heels clicking against the tile floor. She’s in one of her signature power suits, looking every bit the owner of a professional hockey team.

She loops her arm through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Elle is the one person I trust with everything,” she says, looking at Ben. “She’s the best. I’ve never had to worry about her letting me or anyone else down.”

Ben nods in agreement. “That’s the truth.”

My stomach clenches, the weight pressing on my chest doubling. They’re both looking at me like I’m some kind of infallible saint as my stomach hitches with guilt. And all I can think is I don’t deserve this.

Sutton gives my arm a squeeze before stepping back. “Anyway, I’ve got a call in five minutes. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

As she starts to walk away, something in me snaps. I know I’d hinted to Dixon I’d let things sit for now, but it’s just not who I am.

“Sutton, wait.” It’s time. I’m doing it now.

She stops, turning to me with a curious look. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk for a second?” My heart pounds as I glance at Ben. “Alone?”

Sutton’s eyebrows lift, but she nods. “Sure.”

I lead her toward the lobby, away from the bustling hallway. The farther we get from the others, the more my nerves start to spiral. By the time we’re standing by the empty concession stand, I’m pretty sure my heart is going to beat out of my chest.

“What’s going on, Elle?” Sutton asks, her tone softer now.

I take a deep breath, my hands twisting the strap of my bag. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something you deserve to hear from me before anyone else.”

My heart slams inside my chest, to the point I’m worried a rib could break. I know I intimated to Dixon I wouldn’t say anything yet, but seeing Sutton spurs me on. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. And do it here at work, no less. There is so much to this moment that is wrong and unthought out—which is very unlike me—but it needs to happen. Sutton deserves the truth and I want to be the one to tell her.

“IkissedDixon,” I blurt out, the words running together, before stopping and taking a calming breath. “What I mean to say is, I kissed Dixon.”

“Okay.” Sutton blinks, her expression unreadable for a moment before she tilts her head. “And?”

“It’s Dixon.” My eyes bug out of my head. “I kissed him a lot.”

Her head wobbles back and forth on its axis, as if she’s weighing my words. “Yeah? Define ‘a lot.’”

My brow furrows. What is she asking me? “Like…a lot. Everywhere. Even the next town over.”

Sutton’s lip twist. “And?”

“And?!” I repeat, my voice pitching higher.

“Well, was it a good one?” My eyes slam into hers and she winks. “A kiss. Was it good?”

My jaw wants to go slack but I won’t let it. “I kissed Dixon . One of our players. That’s breaking every ethical rule in the book. Sutton, this is bad. Really bad. You need to fire me.”

“Fire you?” Sutton’s eyebrows shoot up, and then she outright laughs. “Elle, come on. I’m not firing you for that. In fact, I’m not firing you at all.”

“But it’s against ethics!” I insist, throwing my hands up. “It’s a violation of the code of conduct.”

“No, it isn’t,” Sutton says, her tone calm but firm. “You don’t think we thought about this? We have a policy for players and employees that says as long as you make us aware of any changes in relationships, it’s fine.”

“ How is that fine?” I ask, incredulous.

“Because hockey is a small world,” she says, shrugging. “It can be really incestuous.”

“Ew,” I deadpan.

“You know what I mean.” Sutton smirks. “This person dates that person’s sister, or someone’s brother marries someone else’s cousin—it’s messy. And don’t even get me started on the brothers playing against their brothers on opposite teams, even though it makes for a great game. Or the dads who are on the same team as their sons. Talk about family lines being crossed left, right, and center.”

“We’re not talking about family, we’re talking about Dixon.”

Sutton sighs. “When I took over, we made that policy more inclusive and modern. As long as you’re being smart about your relationship and you’re both consenting adults, there’s no issue.”

“But the team dynamics?—”

“Oh, please,” Sutton interrupts, waving her hand. “Family is family. Look at you and Dixon. You already had history before you got here, and you guys worked through it, right?”

“Yeah, we did,” I admit softly, thinking of how far we’ve come since our initial awkward reunion. “We are.”

“Exactly. Not every situation will be that smooth, but as long as everyone acts like grown-ups, it’s fine. If things get ugly, then I’ll step in, and someone might have to leave. Simple as that.”

I chew on her words, but my doubt still lingers. “What about public perception?”

“Are you kidding me?” Sutton grins. “Public perception is going to be amazing. One hundred bucks says River City will love the idea of their goalie dating powerhouse Elle Carter. You’re a fan favorite. Just tell the team, tell everyone when you’re ready, and lean on the people who will support you. Don’t hold it in. That’s when things get messy.”

Her words hit me like a jolt, and I realize she’s right. Sutton’s giving me the green light—or as close to it as she’s willing to go.

“Thanks, I think,” I say, my voice quieter now.

She squeezes my arm. “Don’t thank me yet. Just don’t make me regret it, okay?”

“Deal,” I reply, feeling lighter than I have in days. Maybe, just maybe, everything will turn out okay.

As Sutton walks off, leaving me with a sense of tentative relief, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance down at the screen, and my heart skips a beat when I see the name.

It’s Jim Wells, the reporter I’ve been trying to track down.

Elle, sorry we haven’t connected sooner. I’d really like to organize a time to talk. Let me know when you’re free so we can clear the air.

Clear the air? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.

I stare at the message, my stomach flipping. Part of me wants to shove the phone back into my pocket and pretend I never saw it. The other part knows I can’t avoid this. If he’s offering to “clear the air,” that probably means he’s got something on me. Or Dixon. Or both of us.

Perfect timing. Just as I was starting to feel like I might not be the walking definition of a PR nightmare, here comes reality to slap me in the face.

I type out a quick reply before I lose my nerve:

Thanks for reaching out. I can talk tomorrow afternoon. Does that work?

I hit send, my fingers trembling slightly. I don’t know what he’s going to say, or if he’ll be open to talking to me about the article, but I can’t keep wondering how he got the info. If I want a clear start with Dixon, I need this. We need this.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. The ice is waiting, and so is Dixon. If I’m going to juggle all of this, I need to focus on one thing at a time.

Still, as I walk toward the locker room, the words “clear the air” echo in my mind like a storm warning.