Page 21

WILLOW

I manage to push those thoughts to the back of my mind and straighten my shoulders. I’m prepared for whatever he’s going to throw at me.

"Sanchez," he says.

"Dalton," I reply.

“Here to complete your article or to write another one?"

"Same one. Sports isn't my beat." I resist the urge to fidget with my bag. "Congratulations on the win."

"Thanks," he says, but his blue eyes say a whole lot more. They stay locked on mine for another beat before he gestures to the mark on his jaw. "Worth it, though."

I find myself nodding before I can stop myself. "That hit you laid out in the second period was...impressive."

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly. "You actually watched the game?"

"Hard not to when I'm sitting in the media section."

"Right," he says, running his free hand through his damp hair. "Journalism duties."

The hallway feels smaller suddenly. I'm also very aware of how close we're standing and what this could look like if the wrong person walked up on us. Not to mention I’m supposed to hate him.

Supposed to? I do.

Blaise opens his mouth to say something else when a burst of laughter echoes down the hallway. We both turn to see Wilder making his way to the locker room.

"Anyway," I say quickly, desperate to end whatever moment was building between us. "I should let you go. You probably want to shower."

His eyes widen slightly at my comment, and I immediately want to crawl into a hole. "I mean—you know—after the game—" I stammer. Calm the fuck down, Wills.

"I know what you meant," he says, and there's that twitch at the corner of his mouth again. Not quite a smile, but something close to it.

"Dalton!" Coach Johnson's voice bounces off the walls but it’s coming from further down the hallway. "Need you for a minute."

Blaise nods in acknowledgment, then turns back to me. "See you around."

"Yeah," I get out and I do everything in my power to stop myself from watching as he walks away.

What the hell was that? One minute I'm enjoying hockey like a normal person, which is weird in itself. And the next I'm...what? Noticing the way sweat makes Blaise's hair curl slightly at the nape of his neck? Pathetic.

"Earth to Willow," Isla's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I jump because she's standing beside me, and I hadn’t heard her approach.

"Fine," I say too quickly. "Perfectly fine.”

"Uh…okay,” Isla says. "Bailey should be here soon with whoever this content creator is. I'm hoping it won't take long."

I nod, grateful for the change of topic. I’m glad she doesn’t know me as well as Ari does because she would have given me the third degree. "Maybe I can catch Coach Johnson before he gets too wrapped up in post-game stuff."

"Good luck with that." Isla laughs. "Dad's probably already deep in stats and game footage. But we can try."

We start walking toward the coaching offices when I hear a familiar voice that makes my blood run cold.

"...and the engagement numbers would be insane. Hockey content is blowing up right now."

I freeze mid-step. That voice. I'd recognize it anywhere.

Leo Kent. Why the fuck is he here again?

I turn slowly, hoping I'm wrong, but there he is, coming down the hallway with Bailey.

Leo's frame fills the space, and if you didn’t know different, you would think he was another player on the team.

His signature smile plastered across his face as he gestures animatedly while talking. He hasn't seen me yet.

"Oh," Isla says beside me, her voice dropping. "That must be the content creator Bailey was talking about."

My stomach plummets. "Leo Kent?"

"You know him?" Isla asks, glancing between us.

Before I can answer, Bailey spots us and waves enthusiastically. "Isla! Perfect timing. This is Leo Kent. He's a gaming streamer with a huge following. Leo, this is Isla Johnson, our photographer."

Leo's eyes slide past Isla and land directly on me. His smile doesn't falter, but something cold flashes in his gaze. I think back to when he approached me at the Senior Night game and nausea fills my body again.

"Willow," Leo says. I hate the way he says my name. "What a surprise to see you here."

"Leo." I keep my voice flat, devoid of emotion. He will not get a rise out of me. He will not get a rise out of me. He will not?—

Bailey looks between us, her eyebrows rising. "You two know each other?"

"We go way back," Leo says before I can respond. The implication in his tone makes my skin crawl.

I force myself to maintain eye contact. "Not that far back."

Isla shifts beside me, and I know she’s curious about what is going on. Guess I’m going to have to fill her in later.

"Leo's going to be collaborating with some of the players on content," Bailey explains, oblivious to the tension bouncing between us. "Gaming streams, behind-the-scenes stuff. We're hoping it'll boost our social media presence."

It’s then that it clicks for me that this is the reason he was here during Senior Night.He was here on business. Interesting.

"Sounds great," I manage to say although the words taste bitter. "I should go find Coach Johnson for that quote."

"Actually," Leo says, taking a step closer, "I'd love your input on this, Willow. You always had such...creative ideas."

The way he emphasizes "creative" makes me want to scream. Or vomit. Or both.

"I'm sure Bailey has everything covered," I say, backing up slightly. "And I really need to finish this article."

Before anyone can respond, the locker room door swings open. Knox emerges, followed by Blaise. They both stop short when they see the group assembled in the hallway.

Knox's eyes narrow instantly when they land on Leo. The look in his eyes tells me he’s about to go from zero to hundred in two point five seconds flat. "Kent. What are you doing here?"

Leo's smile doesn't falter."Just talking business with Bailey," he says as he extends his hand toward Knox. "Congrats on the win tonight."

Knox ignores the offered hand, stepping closer to me instead. The protective big brother mode is in full effect. His jaw clenched tight enough that I can see a muscle twitching.

"Thanks," Knox says coldly, positioning himself subtly between Leo and me. "Bailey, what's this about?"

"The athletic department approved my proposal to boost our social media presence. Leo has an impressive following online, and we're discussing potential collaborations with the team," Bailey offers.

"With the team," Knox repeats. "As in us?"

"Several players, yes," Bailey continues. "Gaming streams, day-in-the-life content. His demographic overlaps perfectly with our target audience."

I catch the way Blaise's eyes flick between Leo and me as if he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. But he doesn’t say a word.

"I should get going," I say, desperate to escape this situation. "Isla, I'll text you later about those photos. And I’ll shoot Coach Johnson an email." The quicker I leave, the less likely Knox is to throw a punch.

"Thanks for stopping by, Willow. Isla, we have some details to work out, but that’s basically the gist of what I was thinking," Bailey says before glancing at her phone. "Leo and I need to nail down a schedule with some of the players. Knox, I'd love your input."

"I'll pass," Knox says flatly, not taking his eyes off Leo. "I need to talk to Coach about this."

"Come on, Sanchez. Let's keep it professional. This is a great opportunity for the team's exposure," Leo says with a smirk.

"I said I'll pass." Knox’s warning is evident in his tone. "I'm going to talk to Coach about this first."

“Coach was okay with it as long as it didn’t interfere with what you guys were doing on the ice or with your studies. This wouldn’t start until next semester,” Bailey adds.

I can see that she’s trying to ease the tension, but it doesn’t do a thing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Blaise shifts toward to Knox which means he closer to me now. It’s as if he’s preparing to intervene if needed. His movement is enough to get me to make my feet move. “Good night, everyone.”

I break apart from the group and walk away. I’m several feet away when two people flank me on my left and right. With a quick glance, I confirm it’s Knox and Blaise. Outside of what just happened, I kind of like having what looks like two bodyguards escorting me away from that shitshow.

"I can handle myself," I mutter just loud enough for the two men next to me to hear.

"Never said you couldn't," Knox replies. "But I'm not letting that asshole anywhere near you if I can help it."

"What's the deal with that guy?" Blaise finally asks.

Knox's jaw tightens further. "Ask Willow."

"It's nothing," I say quickly, picking up my pace. "Ancient history."

"Bullshit," Knox says. "That guy's a manipulative piece of?—"

"I don't want to talk about it," I cut him off. "Not now. Not here."

We reach the end of the hallway, and I stop, turning to face them both. "I'm heading back to my dorm. You two can go back to...whatever."

Knox studies my face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I lie. "Just tired. It's been a long day."

"I'll walk you to your car," Knox offers, but I shake my head.

"Seriously, I'm good. Go celebrate your win. I'll text you tomorrow."

Knox hesitates, then pulls me into a quick, tight hug. I can’t remember the last time we gave one another a hug. "Fine. But we're talking about this Leo thing later. I don't like him being this close to you or the team."

"Trust me, neither do I," I say against his shoulder before pulling away.

"I'll make sure Coach knows about this," Knox says, his voice taking on that determined edge I recognize all too well. "And Bailey. This collaboration or whatever isn't happening."

"Good luck with that," I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "Bailey seemed pretty set on it and thinks it’s a great idea."

Knox shrugs. "We'll see about that."

"Well," I say, turning so that my back is to the exit and then taking a step backward. "Congrats again on the win. I should go."

"Thanks. Text me when you get home,” Knox responds.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad. I will.” Then I glance at Blaise before shifting my gaze to some random spot in the hallway. "I'll see you in Puerto Rico, I guess."

“Guess so,” Blaise says quickly.

I wait a beat for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.

I give a small nod and turn on my heel and leave the Red Wolves’ arena. I replay the scene that happened just a few minutes ago three times on my walk to my car. Once I’m safely inside my vehicle, I lock the doors and rest my forehead on the steering wheel.

Ari isn’t going to believe this shit.