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“I don’t know her well,” he admits, “but it seems like she’s got a strong head on her shoulders.

And if she doesn’t get a spot with the Penguins, she probably will with New York’s team.

Then they’ll say it’s nepotism that got her there.

Look, I’m not saying it’s fair. But it’s the name of the game sometimes.

Life isn’t always fair, but nothing we want comes easily anyway. ”

Damn if he isn’t right. “If it were Belle in her shoes going through this, what would you do?”

Clarkson’s eyes darken. “I’d tell the public to mind their own business and support Belle in whatever she wanted to do.”

“Even if it puts her in front of the public for the vultures to pick apart? If she gets this internship, she’ll be with the team a lot.”

I can see the subtle tic of his jaw. “Would Olive stop you from playing hockey if it meant getting bad PR sometimes?”

The answer is easy. “No.”

He gives me a pointed look.

I wet my lips. “Fair point.”

“Give her the form, O’Conner. Give her the opportunity before you take it away.”

My gaze drops back down. “I’m used to being the logical person who has no choice but to make the decisions, no matter how hard they are.

I’ve been that way since I was younger. And I know this life isn’t for everybody.

Some people in my life can’t handle the kind of attention that comes with knowing me. ”

Clarkson is quiet, watching me.

“My mom…” I swallow the words for a minute and take a deep breath.

“My mom is sick. She’s in Pennsylvania at a mental hospital, and I put her there.

She doesn’t want to be there, but it’s what she needs.

I know it is. I’m afraid of the day she’ll finally be okay enough to get out only to go down whatever dark rabbit hole that my life puts her in.

I don’t want this—the media or the outsiders—to destroy her.

I don’t want the press getting their hands on the story.

She’s not a story to be told. She’s a person. ”

His eyebrows arch. “I get that, man. And I’m sorry it’s been tough with your mom.

That’s got to be hard. But Olive isn’t your mother.

You don’t need to be the one who makes all the tough calls to protect her.

All you can do is be there for her and set those boundaries with everybody outside of your relationship.

You can’t stop living your life for others.

Not even for your mother. Is this what you want to do? Hockey?”

“Hockey is the only thing I’ve been sure about my whole life.” My lips rub together. “And Olive.”

“You’ve worked your ass off to be here.” He grips my shoulder. “So don’t throw it away because of what could happen. There are a lot of people who are able to keep their personal lives private. As long as you’re open about wanting that, people will understand.”

He has a lot more faith in humanity than I do.

“Everybody needs to set limits with the press,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with saying your family is off limits.”

“Won’t that make them more curious?”

“Sometimes, you have to have a little blind trust, O’Conner,” he tells me, clasping my shoulder.

I huff. “I don’t know if I have that in me.”

“Relationships are built on trust,” he points out. “Do you trust Olive?”

“Yes.”

“Everybody has the capability of hurting us, but that doesn’t mean they’re all going to. Let go of what’s holding you back. Open up a little. Draw the line. I think you’ll have better luck than you think.”

Public speaking is the last thing I want to do, especially if it brings more attention to the people I want out of the limelight. But maybe he’s right.

And I’m willing to do what I need to if it means protecting the women in my life that I love.

Love.

Christ.

*

The suit jacket feels a little looser than I remember, which is a reminder that I need to start hitting up the gym again and do Clarkson’s training exercises to bulk up before getting back on the ice. I button it and adjust the tie, frowning when I see how crooked it looks in the mirror reflection.

“You look nice,” Olive says from the bathroom doorway. “It’s not game day, though. Why are you so dressed up?”

I try to redo the tie, remembering how my old college coach did it when he showed me. “I had Kyle, my agent, set up a press conference.”

Olive walks in and stands in front of me, moving my hands away from the mint green tie that I bought a year ago because it reminded me of her eyes.

Kyle told me I’d need nice clothes for press junkets, so I picked out three suits using the money I got, and five different ties. This one is my favorite.

“But you hate public speaking,” she notes softly, her fingers moving skillfully until my tie is straight and tucked into my jacket.

I flatten my hand down the front of it and look at her. “I hate what people are saying about you more.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re doing this for me ?”

Is she really that surprised? “You can pretend like this isn’t impacting you, but I know it is. I can see it. The light in your eyes that’s always burned so damn bright has dimmed. I’m going to make sure people know that’s not okay with me.”

Her lips part, a gaping expression leaving her cute and speechless.

My hand moves to her face to graze her cheek with my knuckles. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I could definitely use one of your famous pep talks before I sit down in front of the cameras.”

I see her throat bob with a thick swallow as she releases a long breath. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? We both know people are going to say whatever they want to.”

“We have a say in the narrative, though.” My thumb brushes her bottom lip.

“And I have every intention of letting them know that I have a thing for the girl in those pictures who can outsmart any hockey fan with stat shots on players without googling a single thing. And if they have a problem with it, they’ll have to deal with me. ”

A small smile tilts her lips. “I don’t think threatening them will do any good. If it did, one of my friends offered a particular skillset with laxatives.”

My brows go up. “That’s fucked up.”

She doesn’t disagree.

“Today is about letting people know what, and who, is important to me. That’s you.

That’s the game. My team. My mother. If they want me to talk to them, then they need to show me some respect.

If fans want to call themselves that, then they need to prove it.

I hate getting in front of people and talking, but I’m willing to do it for you. We’re a team too, right?”

Those green eyes start to glisten. “We are.”

I lean my forehead against hers. “So will you come? Will you give me a pep talk so I don’t piss myself in front of a crowd?”

The lightest laugh escapes her. “You’re Alexander O’Conner. You’re talented. You’re caring. You can do anything life sends your way—more than any of those people know. You love more than anybody knows. You’re persistent and determined no matter what. But do you know what else you are?”

I feel her warm breath reflect off of my lips as my nose grazes hers. “What?”

“You’re mine.”

Two words.

Two. Goddamn. Words.

And my heart does the kind of shit people write books about.

“If I didn’t have to leave, we’d both be naked right now and I’d be buried inside of you,” I tell her, letting my lips hover above hers.

I can feel her smile against me. “You might want to calm down before you walk in front of a bunch of cameras sporting a giant boner.”

I chuckle. “That would be unfortunate.”

“They’d definitely stop talking about me,” she agrees, pressing hers lips against mine once before pulling away.

Brushing hair behind her ear, I give her one last look before I nod to myself. “I should get going soon. But I want to give you something first.”

Her brows furrow together when I dig through the papers collecting on my kitchen island before passing her the internship application.

“It’s up to you what you want to do,” I begin, watching her read it over.

“But if we’re really a team, then be part of mine.

You already know your shit. The Penguins could utilize someone like you. And I…”

She looks up at me.

“Well, you won’t see me complain if you decide to apply,” I conclude, lifting a shoulder. “But if you decide to go somewhere else, or do something else, know I’ll support you there too.”

Her eyes dip back down to the paper.

“Just think about it,” I say, gesturing toward the door. “If you’re ready, we can head out.”

She stops me by the wrist, squeezing it once and locking eyes with mine. “This means more to me than you know, Alex.”

I glance down at our hands. “I get to claim you too, you know. I can’t be yours unless you’re mine.”

“So this is you claiming me?”

My lips curl up. “It’s one of the ways I plan to. The other involves a lot less clothing and a lot of cum.”

Her eyes flash. “Not fair.”

“Don’t you know?” I tease, pecking her cheek. “Life isn’t fair, baby.”