Page 4

Chapter 4

JAMIE

T he Sasquatch's high-tech meeting room screams money and professionalism, way more impressive than anything we had in Florida. My sneakers barely make a sound on the carpeted floor as I slip into a seat near the middle, not too close to the front like an eager rookie but not hiding in the back either.

Being fifteen minutes early probably makes me look like an ass-kisser, but it's better than being late and making a bad first impression. My leg bounces under the built-in desktop as I try to appear casual.

The first few guys filter in a few minutes later. A tall, dark-haired guy, a defenseman, I think, drops into a seat near the front, immediately getting into conversation with a redheaded guy with a British accent about some Netflix show. Their comfortable back-and-forth, complete with inside jokes, reinforces my status as the outsider in the room.

More players arrive in small groups, and the room slowly fills with the boisterous energy that comes from reuniting after the off-season, with guys comparing summer tans and sharing vacation stories. I recognize a lot of the faces from having played against them, but not everyone.

A few curious glances are thrown my way, along with some polite nods, but no one approaches me. I get it—I'm the dude with the asshole reputation, and no one's sure it was smart to bring me onto this already struggling team. I'm aware of the whispers, but I keep an easy smile on my face. If the last three seasons have taught me anything, it's 'never let 'em see you sweat'.

Louis Tremblay, the starting goalie, walks in with his signature grin. I know he and Rylan Collings are tight, I think they come from the same small town in Canada

Tanner Sinclair, my fellow trade acquisition, arrives next, looking as uncertain as I feel. We exchange quick nods, but he sits down next to Lou. Makes sense, wanting to sit next to the other goaltender. It's not like we knew each other well in Florida, since he was on the farm team, but still, his not taking the seat beside me feels like a rejection.

I make a conscious effort to stop drumming my fingers on the desktop. First impressions matter, and I'm hyper-aware of every move I make being watched. But after the mess of my last three years, I cannot screw up this chance. It could be my last one in the league.

Coach Shaw and GM Carson Wells walk in together, their presence shifting the room's energy, and conversations quickly dying down. Rylan slips in behind them, moving to a chair in the front row with quiet confidence.

The GM clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention."Welcome back, gentlemen. It's great to see all your faces again, and some new ones too."He nods in my direction, and I sit up a little straighter.

"We've got a big season ahead of us. The last couple of years have been disappointing, but we're putting that behind us right now. This is a new beginning, a chance to start fresh."

Murmurs of agreement come from around the room. I glance at Rylan again, but his eyes are fixed on Carson, his expression unreadable.

"Part of that fresh start is bringing in some new blood, both on the ice and off. As you're all aware by now, we made a significant move at the last minute."More noises of acknowledgment follow that, and a few guys send looks my way.

"I understand this kind of change isn’t always easy. We'll miss the guys who've moved on, but I truly believe we've put together a group that can do something special this year. So I want to take a couple of minutes to introduce our newest teammates."

He introduces all the new guys, starting with the rookies, and everyone stands up and says a quick hello until he gets to me.

"And last, but not least, joining us from the Florida Jaguars, is forward Jamie Pirelli."

I stand, forcing a smile onto my face. My palms are sweaty as I nod at my new teammates.

"Thanks, guys. I'm excited to be part of this team. Can't wait to see what we'll do this season,"I say before sinking back into my seat. Yeah, that was a bit lame, but no one expects a huge speech. The only way I'm going to earn anyone's respect is with my actions. The shit I say during a welcome meeting isn't going to count for shit if I don't live up to expectations on the ice.

Carson introduces Coach Shaw next, who steps forward with a friendly smile on his face. Even with his open expression, his presence commands the room. He’s not a huge guy, but he’s solidly built with thick, gray hair and steely blue eyes that look like they cut through bullshit like a hot knife through butter. He has that rare combination of natural authority and approachability that the best coaches have.

Shaw is a former player, but he was more of a journeyman than a star. He was the kind of player known for always having his teammates' backs. He's been coaching in the farm system for a few years, but this is his first head coaching job at this level, so I'm sure he's feeling the pressure as much as we are.

"Thanks, Carson,"he says in that voice that makes you sit up and pay attention. Commanding without being intimidating.

"The past couple of seasons have been tough on everyone in this room,"he continues."But that's behind us. We're going to focus on the present, on putting in the work every single day to get back to where we all want to be."

There are nods and murmurs of agreement from around the room. I find myself nodding along, feeling the spark of excitement that I've been missing for the past couple of years.

Sometimes I still can't believe I get paid to do what most kids only dream about. During all the toxic locker room drama with the Jags, I kind of forgot how much I genuinely love playing hockey. Maybe his trade means more than just a chance to save my reputation—maybe it's what I need to reconnect with the game itself. To find the pure thrill that used to hit me every time I stepped out on the ice.

"The talent in this room is incredible,"he continues."But talent alone doesn't win championships. It takes hard work, dedication, and most importantly, it takes coming together as a team. And the responsibility for that falls equally on all of our shoulders."

It could be my imagination, but I feel like he looks at me when he says it. I swallow hard, sitting up a little straighter.

"The coaching staff has spent the last couple of weeks laying out some tentative game plans for next week, which we'll be covering during practices but there is one off-ice change that I want to bring up right now."He pauses, as everyone's ears perk up.

"All players, regardless of the number of years in the league, will be sharing a room with a teammate while we're on the road this year."

RYLAN

The coffee I'm drinking takes a wrong turn when Coach Shaw drops the bomb about the new roommate policy. I fight to mask my sudden, choking cough as a simple throat clear, but it doesn't work. Louis gives me a worried glance, but I refuse to meet his eyes, concentrating on keeping a straight face while surprised whispers spread through the room.

Sharing rooms isn't the norm anymore, especially for veterans. Anyone who's not on their entry-level contract gets their own room. It's kind of an unwritten rule, part of"making it"in the league.

"I'm aware this is a bit unorthodox,"Travis continues,"But I'm a firm believer that building strong bonds off the ice translates to success on the ice. We're going to get to know each other better than we know our own families this year."

Through my peripheral vision, I catch Jamie Pirelli shifting in his seat, his casual posture betrayed by the way his fingers drum against his thigh. But his expression remains composed, an easy half-smile playing at his lips.

Travis must sense the room's uneasiness because he holds up a placating hand."Look, I understand it's going to be an adjustment, but I've put a lot of thought into the roommate pairings. When I met with each of you during the off-season, I tried to get a sense of who you are as people, not just as players. My goal is to facilitate connections between you all. I'm not looking to force anyone into an uncomfortable situation. If anyone has a serious problem with sharing a room, you can come speak to me privately, but my hope is that you'll give it a real shot."

He gives us a grin before continuing."And just to show you how invested the coaching staff is in this idea, we'll all be sharing rooms this year too."That's met with some laughter and a few of the assistant coaches roll their eyes in an exaggerated fashion, which breaks some of the tension.

"Okay, so before the speculation gets too out of hand, I'm going to go ahead and tell you who you're rooming with this year,"Coach Shaw grins as he pulls out a sheet of paper and puts on his reading glasses.

My stomach clenches as he starts reading names."Marshall with Darbyshire. Reese-McLeod and Gagnon."Some guys fist-bump, others maintain their professional masks as Coach goes down the list.

"Sinclair with Tremblay."Louis shoots his new backup an encouraging smile.

"Collings with Pirelli."

The words hit me like a check from behind. Austin sucks in a sharp breath, but I'm still trying to control the rushing sound of blood in my ears. Oh my god, he's not just my teammate... I jerked off to thoughts of my roommate less than 12 hours ago.

Fuck. My. Life.

Okay, tet it together, Collings. I need to set the example here and show everyone this isn't a big deal.

Evenif the thought of sharing a room with Jamie Pirelli makes my heart race in a way that has nothing to do with hockey.