Page 2

two

CAROLINE

I’m here. It’s really happening.

There must be over a hundred people crammed into this room, all shouting at once, all fighting for attention. The cameras flash like a strobe light. It’s a blur of bodies and noise.

And yet, when he finally takes his place behind the podium and raises his head, his eyes land straight on me.

Just like they always do.

Like he knows when I walk into a room. Like he can sense it.

Like I’m a magnet for trouble, and he can’t help but be drawn to it.

Like he’s a recovering addict, and I’m the one temptation he can’t seem to kick.

And right now, as usual, his body reacts before his mind even has a chance to catch up. He relaxes some, even with the stress hanging around him like a cloud—something I can’t exactly blame him for, given the situation.

Or maybe I can.

And then—the final blow. The cherry on top of this poison-laced cake .

The smirk.

I know it’s coming, but still, even with twenty feet between us, my neck burns with heat when it hits. His lips curl, his jaw shifts, the left corner of his mouth lifts. His tongue pushes into the inside of his cheek, his chin lowers. Like clockwork.

And I have no chance. No chance of stopping the scoff escaping my mouth before it’s already out—no more than I can stop my eyes from rolling back into my head.

Just like that, the spell is broken. Time resumes its normal pace. And this little dance Rhett Sutton keeps making us do drags on for another day.

When my eyes settle back into place, his gaze is no longer on me. He’s scanning the room now, jaw tense as reporters shout over each other, demanding soundbites and statements about his new role.

A role I still can’t wrap my head around.

Just thinking about it twists my stomach. Every headline makes it worse. And now, watching it unfold in real time, my heart sinks all over again—just like it did when I found out.

But, unfortunately, the decision wasn’t mine to make.

Because it belonged to the man standing behind Rhett now. The one gripping his arm as he leans in, murmuring something low and gruff—probably some mix of encouragement and a subtle threat to get his act together.

The one with the same level of patience and sharp blue eyes as me.

Coach Jim Barrett. Or Bear, as the players call him.

But I just call him Dad.

I exhale through my nose and raise my phone, snapping a picture of Rhett behind the podium—the shiny new "C" stitched on his green jersey on display for the world to see.

I grit my teeth and open my social media app, type out the caption, and hit post before I can change my mind .

Because as an aspiring NHL commentator, my job is to stay objective. Know the stats. Report the news. Keep personal opinions out of it.

And the fact is—Rhett Sutton is the new captain of the Texas Storm.

Rhett “Sutty” Sutton.

The golden boy from Toronto. Drafted second overall after giving the University of Toronto their best two seasons in decades. He was supposed to be the league’s next shining star.

Instead, Chicago cut him before his second year.

Why?

The rumor mill has churned out theories for the last ten years—but no one knows for sure.

Everyone has their opinion on him.

I know I do.

Even if I’m not supposed to.

But I’m not blind. And I’m definitely not naive.

Rhett Sutton’s charm has no effect on me.

Even if he somehow resurrected his career.

Even if he turned Texas into believers.

Even if he’s now one of the NHL’s hottest commodities.

The boy with the golden curls, the eyes of a wolf, and a grin that makes people forget he’s dangerous. A loose cannon on the ice, a smooth talker off of it. Every opponent's worst nightmare and the media’s dream.

Every woman wants him. Every man wants to be him.

I think you can guess where he falls on that spectrum for me.

Because Rhett Sutton’s been a recurring feature in my life for years.

The difference is, before, I could pretend to ignore him.

Now? Not so much.

I’ve finished my master’s in broadcast journalism. I’ve spent every spare moment reviewing NHL footage and memorizing stats like scripture.

I worked under the Storm’s rinkside reporter—Courtney Evans—learning the ropes, getting my hands dirty in NHL media. But now? It’s my time.

The Storm’s television analyst is retiring. That role is mine. I’m sure of it. I know hockey, especially Texas hockey.

I’ve put everything into this. Stepped in when Courtney was sick and crushed it. Been a perfect professional. Now I’m just waiting for the final word. And I may just get it today. I have a meeting after the press conference.

“Rhett!” a journalist calls. “What was your reaction when you got the call-up to captain?”

I watch Rhett exhale slowly, dragging a hand over his stubble. “Honestly? It was something along the lines of, ‘I think you’ve got the wrong number.’”

A wave of laughter ripples through the room. I cross my arms, fighting the urge to shake my head.

In sports broadcasting, image is everything. But when you’re a woman and the daughter of a head coach? The scrutiny is amplified tenfold.

“But isn’t it true that Bennett James personally recommended you for the position when he left the Storm at the end of last season?” the reporter presses.

I notice Rhett’s easy smile flicker, just for a moment. “That’s something you’d have to ask him.”

“So are you saying you didn’t discuss with Bennett James—your former teammate at the University of Toronto and friend since childhood—the possibility of his role as captain being handed over to you upon his exit?”

“I…” Rhett trails off. “Well—no?—”

“No, there was no conversation between you two?” the reporter pushes again .

“Like you said,” Rhett snaps, his tone suddenly colder, “Bennett’s one of my closest friends. We talk all the time.”

“Right, I’m sure. And were any promises made in those friendly talks?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

The reporter leans in, sensing an opening. “Well, you have to understand, it’s interesting, given your past.”

“My past?” Rhett says, clearly caught off guard.

“Well, it’s no secret that when you were released from Chicago, many figured you wouldn’t be picked up by another NHL team. But you were. By the same team your close friend was making a name for himself with. So, it’s probably safe to say Bennett helped you out, right?”

Rhett’s expression hardens as he shoots back, “Bennett James is one of the greatest players of all time. He’s a leader and an inspiration to well over half the league?—”

“Was,” the reporter interjects.

“Excuse me?” Rhett’s eyes narrow.

“He was all of those things,” the reporter continues, his tone sharp. “But he’s not playing in the NHL anymore.”

And that’s when my father steps in.

“You’re right, Ted,” Dad says calmly. “He’s not.

And the Storm will miss him greatly. But we’re an organization focused on the future.

And Rhett Sutton is now the leader of that future.

The decision to name him captain wasn’t made lightly, but with the consideration of many factors by a select, trusted few behind the scenes.

We are proud to have him, and I have every ounce of faith in him. ”

The reporter looks like he’s about to ask more, but my father cuts him off.

“Unfortunately,” he says, glancing down at his watch. “We’ve run out of time. We’ve got a practice to get to so we can prepare for our first game of the season tomorrow. ”

The room erupts as people scramble to shout last-minute questions, cameras flashing as Dad all but drags Rhett offstage.

I run a hand through my hair as I make my way out of the room, quickly flashing the security pass around my neck to be let into the back halls of the Storm’s headquarters.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out, a scowl immediately crossing my face when I see the social media notification responding to my post about Rhett’s press conference.

Mick_DavisTX: The obvious choice! A Texas boy since day one and our points leader for years. Bring on the #SuttyEra.

Mick Davis—or as I not so fondly call him, Dick—was my top academic competition. His father played football for the University of Texas, made millions in business, and now holds political office. Mick’s got connections, charm, and a decent sports brain—but he’s no hockey expert.

His focus is scattered—football, baseball, basketball—while mine has always been hockey and hockey alone. He may have finished right behind me in our master’s program, but he’s never been a real threat.

And here, he proves it.

Rhett wasn’t the obvious choice.

He hasn’t been in Texas since day one—though casual or recent fans wouldn’t know that. His rookie year in Chicago has all but vanished, a forgotten blip after nine successful seasons with the Storm.

And he hasn’t been the points leader for years—Bennett held that title for nearly a decade, Rhett just overtaking him last season. But there were other circumstances involved there?—

My phone vibrates once more, and I look down at it to find one of the very circumstances in question.

Addie: Nice view you got there.

She sends a screenshot of my photo of Rhett.

Me: I promise yours is better.

Addie: Well…I may have to agree. But they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

And that’s when another photo from her comes through. But this one’s taken from her personal camera, showing the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance while a plate of pasta, a glass of wine, and none other than Bennett James himself sits across the table in front of her.

Addison Dixon. My sweet Addie. My best—and sort-of-only—girl friend.

The Texas Storm’s former social media manager and the reason Rhett Sutton is standing before all of us today as the team’s new captain.

Because Bennett James had to go and fall in love with her so hard that he left the Storm for a team in the European Hockey League so he could follow Addie to her new career opportunity in Paris.

I can’t blame Bennett in the slightest for loving Addie, or for his decision to leave the Storm. But that choice set off a ripple effect—one that did, in fact, end with Bennett recommending his longtime best friend to take his place as captain.

And now here we are.

Me: Well, this eye isn’t beholding anything beautiful on this side of the world at the moment.

Addie: Give him a chance, Caroline.

Me: Addie, I know you mean well, but please save it. I’ve known Rhett a long time.

Addie: And in the short time I’ve known him, he’s shown me he’s someone worth cheering for.

Me: I assure you, he is not lacking in screaming fans by any means.

Addie: That doesn’t mean he couldn’t benefit from a little faith from you too.

My steps slow as I reach the end of the hallway, eyes still locked on my phone. I twist my lips to the side, hesitating. When I don’t reply for a few beats, another message lights up the screen.

Addie: Any word on the TV analyst role?

Me: Headed into a meeting about it now.

Addie: Do you think it’s THE meeting?

Me: Well, I don’t want to be too presumptuous…

Addie: Care, you’re always presumptuous.

Me: Or too overly confident…

Addie: You’re the most confident person I know. It’s my favorite thing about you.

Addie: You’ve got this. You always do.

A grin pulls at my lips, but then the sound of a voice stops me cold .

“I’m sorry, Bear. I’m trying.”

I freeze.

I know that voice anywhere.

And just like that, the smile slips away.