Page 33

Iris

I sat at the long table in the conference room, absently tracing my fingers over the cool surface as Coach Callahan set the tone for the morning meeting. The air felt thick with anticipation and something else—an edge I couldn’t quite place.

He stood at the front, hands clasped together, his gaze sweeping over us like he was trying to gauge our readiness for whatever was coming next.

“All right, team,” he began, his voice steady but charged.

“Today, we have some sponsors joining us. They’re looking to invest in our program, so let’s make a good impression.

” He gestured toward a pair of older men sitting across from us.

They looked bored, barely hiding their yawns behind cups of coffee.

Then came her.

She entered with a confidence that cut through the stale atmosphere like a knife. Dressed in an expensive blazer and her red lipstick bright enough to demand attention, she commanded the room. Late thirties or maybe early forties, she moved with an ease that screamed authority mixed with charm.

I felt my stomach tighten when her gaze locked onto Knox.

He straightened in his chair, instantly transforming from coach to charming player—flashing that signature smirk of his that could light up any room. She approached him like a predator sizing up her prey.

“Knox Callahan,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Sloane Harding.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he replied with that effortless charm I had grown both accustomed to and irritated by.

Sloane laughed too hard at his joke, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm as she leaned in just enough for everyone to notice. My heart sank into my stomach as I watched Knox play along—polite smile firmly in place while he engaged with her easily.

There was something about their interaction that made me feel off-balance. Her laughter filled the space between them like a warm blanket while Knox's eyes sparkled—not just out of courtesy but genuine interest.

My pulse quickened as I wrestled with a mix of jealousy and anger; this wasn’t just business—it felt personal. And here I was, stuck watching from the sidelines as another woman slipped effortlessly into his orbit, capturing his attention without even trying.

“Let’s show them what we’ve got,” Coach Callahan continued after introducing Sloane and the other executives, pulling me back to reality as they all prepared for practice discussions ahead.

But all I could focus on was Sloane's touch lingering on Knox’s arm—a subtle reminder that someone else might see him in ways I hadn’t dared to admit I wanted to explore myself.

I felt it in my gut—hot and sour and fucking wrong. The sight of Knox laughing with Sloane twisted something deep inside me. It was irrational; I knew that, but it didn’t matter.

She was beautiful, polished, a successful businesswoman who glided through the room like she owned it. I watched her lean into him, brushing her fingers against his hand as if they shared an intimacy I could never hope to replicate.

And me? I was just a player—a risk in his eyes. A kid playing at a game I couldn’t fully understand. He had to see that, right? How could he look at me the same way he looked at her?

Except I also knew that wasn’t true.

Not after what he did to me last night.

My skin still tingled where his hands had branded me, that electrifying connection lingering long after he stepped back. I remembered the way his breath had felt against my neck, how every word seemed to pull me deeper into him, closer to a reality I had only started to confront.

Watching him now, engaged in conversation with her, made my heart race in ways I couldn’t control. There was a darkness behind those eyes when he looked at me—a heat that promised something dangerous yet intoxicating.

I hated how much I wanted him, how seeing them together made me feel small and insignificant. It made my throat tighten; the very thought of losing what we’d begun left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Knox was out of reach, flirting with someone who wore confidence like a second skin while I fumbled for words every time he turned his attention toward me. My mind spiraled as insecurities clawed their way back to the surface.

What if this was all just some reckless game for him? What if last night had meant nothing? Would he ever see past my jersey and realize I was more than just a kid on his team?

A flicker of doubt gnawed at me—an unwanted reminder of the distance between us. And all the while, Sloane’s laughter echoed through the room like a cruel taunt, mocking my silent battle with myself.

I sat in the conference room, forcing myself to pay attention to the sponsors as they spoke about funding and gear deals.

But all I could hear was Sloane’s laugh, a bright sound that pierced through the seriousness of their discussions.

It echoed in my mind like a cruel reminder of what I was missing.

Every time I glanced at Knox, he wore that easy grin—one that didn’t belong to me.

His laughter came so naturally with her, while with me, it was always tension.

Always charged with anger and heat. I wanted him to look at me like that.

To share something genuine, not just moments tangled in conflict.

Sloane leaned closer to him, her fingers brushing against his arm again, as if she had every right to invade my space. I hated how effortlessly she slid into his orbit, while I stumbled over my words whenever he came near. It felt like a punch in the gut each time he turned his charm on for her.

“...and with this funding, we can enhance our training programs significantly, maybe even fully commit to expanding female ice hockey at Crestwood,” one of the sponsors said, but the words blurred together.

They faded into background noise as I focused on Knox's easy interactions with Sloane instead.

The way he looked at her stirred something ugly inside me—jealousy clawing at my insides. What made her so special? She could walk away with his number and slip into his bed tonight without a second thought. Meanwhile, I was stuck here pretending not to want him—pretending not to care.

My heart raced as frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

This was supposed to be about hockey; it should have been about the jersey—the goal I had been working toward since I could remember.

Yet here I was, fixated on a man who seemed perfectly content flirting with someone else while keeping me in this twisted limbo.

Every moment Sloane spent next to Knox only deepened my resolve to fight for him, but each laugh she shared with him chipped away at my confidence like ice melting under a spring sun. How could someone else make him smile so easily?

I shifted in my seat, trying to concentrate on the discussion again, but my mind betrayed me—my thoughts still tangled up in envy and desire for something that felt completely out of reach.

My chest tightened, a knot of panic coiling tighter with every laugh that slipped from Sloane’s lips. This was new territory for me—more than just wanting his hands on my body; this was wanting him, completely.

The idea of someone else having him twisted my insides like a vise grip.

It wasn’t just jealousy; it was a desperate fear of losing him before I’d even had the chance to claim him for myself.

I gripped the edge of the bench under the table, my knuckles turning white as I fought to steady my breathing.

I needed to focus on the meeting, on the sponsors and their pitch about funding and gear deals. But all I could see was Knox's smirk—the way he looked at her with that playful glint in his eyes that made my heart race. It made me want to scream at him, demand he stop flirting like it didn’t matter.

“...the jerseys will get a significant upgrade as well,” one of the sponsors droned on, but their words faded into background noise as Sloane’s whispers echoed in my ears. It grated against my skin like nails on a chalkboard, filling me with a simmering frustration I couldn’t shake off.

I tried to remind myself this wasn’t real—Knox and Sloane were just two people having a conversation—but every flicker of their chemistry ignited something inside me that threatened to spill over.

The heat radiated from where Knox sat, alive and vibrant; it called out to me like a siren song while I felt trapped behind an invisible barrier.

I clenched my jaw and focused harder on the table in front of me, wishing desperately for the ground to swallow me whole or for time to freeze until Knox looked back at me with that same fire he always did—before Sloane had entered the picture.

Finally, after what felt like eighty-four years, the meeting wrapped up with the usual flurry of excitement and handshakes.

I stood up, forcing a smile as the sponsors began to file out.

Coach Callahan was deep in conversation with Sloane, and they both laughed like they were old friends.

I felt an urge to roll my eyes at the sound—familiar laughter that only amplified the tension coiling in my gut.

“Great presentation, everyone!” one of the sponsors said, clapping his hands together. “We’re looking forward to what this season brings.”

Knox exchanged pleasantries with Sloane, his demeanor professional and polite. But as he turned slightly, I caught a flicker of something in his eyes—a hint of awareness that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could sense my unease lurking just beneath the surface.

I crossed my arms, trying to suppress the rush of jealousy that bubbled up again as he leaned closer to her.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled brightly at him, but I barely registered her words.

My focus narrowed on Knox’s expression—the way his lips curled into a casual smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Then, finally, his gaze landed on me.