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thirty-five

CAROLINE

“Caroline?”

I hear my name just as I’m pulling away from my father’s congratulatory hug, seconds before he heads off to a post-game press interview.

I turn to find Tom Dunn approaching.

“Tom,” I say, still processing the surreal feeling of having just called a live NHL game next to one of the most respected voices in hockey. “Hi. Thank you so much—for tonight, for your help, your patience, and for being so kind. This opportunity meant the world to me.”

“You earned it,” he replies with an easy smile. “That was all you. I’ve worked with career broadcasters who’ve been in this business for decades and still don’t come that prepared—especially stepping in at the last minute.”

I nod, a flicker of pride stirring in my chest. “Thank you. My goal is to always be ready. I’m just glad I could support the broadcast.”

“It showed,” he says. “And you didn’t just support the broadcast—you carried it.” He pauses, crossing his arms before adding, “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“The Storm are underutilizing you as a rinkside reporter. I’ve been doing this a long time, and you? You’re built for the broadcast desk. You’ve got it.”

Something shifts in my chest—not doubt, but recognition. Because I’ve known it too.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “That’s the goal. And I plan to get there.”

Tom studies me for a second longer, then leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Keep this between us, but I was in New York last week. Had dinner with some old colleagues. Word is the Titans’ color commentator is leaving for one of the major networks.”

I blink. The New York Titans. Top-tier. Huge market. Huge reach.

“They’re going to start looking for someone new soon,” he continues, pulling a card from his inside pocket. “And I think your name should be in the mix. I’m going to make sure they hear it.”

I take the card, my hand slightly shaky as I meet his eyes. “Thank you. Truly. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“I can’t make promises,” he says, “but I’ll put in the word.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” I reply. “That’s all I need.”

He gives me a long, measured look. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If you get a chance—take it. Even if this one doesn’t pan out, take the next one. I know you’ve got ties to Texas, but opportunities in this business are rare. Especially for women. If a door opens—walk through it. Don’t get complacent. ”

I nod, slowly, firmly. “I could never,” I say softly. “I promise.”

I’m still staring at Tom’s business card as I push through the revolving door of the hotel. My feet carry me automatically toward the elevators, but a sudden burst of cheers to my right stops me in my tracks.

I skid to a halt, the card nearly falling from my fingers. I steady it, slipping it into my coat pocket before taking in the scene.

The entire Texas Storm roster is crowded into the hotel bar, glasses raised, clapping and cheering.

“Caroline!” Ronan calls, weaving through the group. “There you are! Come celebrate!”

He loops an arm around me, pulling me into the group before I can ask what’s going on. He grabs a glass of champagne from a nearby table and hands it to me.

“Oh… thanks,” I say, still trying to catch up. I glance down at the bubbling glass, then back at the grinning faces around me.

“What?” Ronan teases. “Not a champagne girl?”

“No, I like champagne,” I say, smiling faintly. “I just… why are we celebrating? You guys lost.”

Luke appears, slinging an arm around Ronan’s neck. “Sure, but you didn’t.”

I blink, a grin starting to pull at my lips. “Wait… did you guys really do this for me?”

“Of course we did,” Ragnar says, ruffling my hair from behind.

I shrug off my coat and drape it over the back of a chair just as Luke adds, “We couldn’t believe it in the locker room.”

My brows lift. “What do you mean?”

“When we saw you on TV during intermission. We were all watching.”

“You were? ”

He nods, and John chimes in, “You were incredible, Caroline. Like you’ve been doing it your whole life.”

My smile widens. “Thanks, Wiz.” I lift my glass. “Thank you—really. This is… this is so sweet.”

We clink glasses. I sip. The champagne is crisp, bubbly, but there’s a strange heaviness in my chest. A weight I can’t explain.

More teammates come over to congratulate me. I smile. I thank them. I raise my glass over and over—but with each interaction, the pit in my stomach grows. It makes no sense. Tonight was everything I’d worked for. I should be floating.

So why do I feel like I’m sinking?

“Hey,” Luke says gently at my side. “You good?”

I nod automatically. “Yeah. Totally. Just…”

I glance around.

“Do you know where Rhett is?”

Luke hesitates. “Uh…”

I face him fully. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly.

“Buck.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay. I mean… I saw him earlier. But not recently.”

My smile falters. “What’s going on?”

He winces. “He… went out.”

And just like that, my eyes burn.

“Out.”

“Yeah.”

My throat tightens. I hand him my glass. “Here. You can finish that.”

“Caroline, wait?—”

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

I grab my coat and turn toward the elevators, ready to disappear—until the sound of shoes squeaking against the tile cuts through the noise .

“Alright, I’m here! I made it!”

I freeze.

Somewhere behind me, Ronan says, “Hey—” but he doesn’t finish before another voice cuts in, sharp and urgent:

“Where is she?”

I turn slowly.

And there he is.

Rhett. Still in his suit from the game, breathless, cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold, curls dusted with snow under a beanie. In one hand, a massive bouquet of white peonies. In the other, a teddy bear with a ribbon around its neck.

His eyes scan the room wildly until they land on me.

“Cub.”

I shake my head, stunned.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, already moving toward me. “Turns out flowers are hard to come by in the middle of a Detroit winter. I had to hit four different shops before I found ones I thought you’d actually tolerate. I just?—”

I don’t let him finish. My coat falls from my hands as I run straight into his arms.

His voice cuts off as he catches me, wrapping me tight while shifting the bear and flowers to his other arm. He lifts me easily, his free hand burying into the back of my neck. My chin lands on his shoulder, and a laugh slips out—half joy, half relief.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs.

“I did it,” I whisper.

“Hell yes, you did. And you were amazing.”

“Like I was born for it?”

“No,” he says, pulling back just enough to brush my hair behind my ear, smirking. “Like you worked your ass off for it.”

I stare up at him. He sets me back on my feet, but the moment stretches between us—warm, electric.

Then —

“So… are you still heading out?” Luke asks, holding my champagne glass with a grin.

I glance at him, then at Rhett, and just as I’m about to answer, the exhaustion from the day hits me all at once.

“You know what?” I say. “I think I am. Please tell the guys thank you for the surprise.”

“You’re leaving?” Rhett asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I’m wiped. And I need to review the other games from tonight.”

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll walk you up.”

I smile faintly. “Sure. Thanks.”

The elevator ride is quiet, but the air hums with something unspoken. Rhett hands me the flowers and bear, and I can’t help the way my lips curve as I run my fingers between the soft petals. It was sweet. Unexpected. Almost too much.

But the smile fades the moment we step into my room and I hear the faint rustle of Rhett digging through his wallet behind me.

I turn, watching him at the threshold, something in me shifting.

I glance down at the flowers and bear before setting them carefully on the armchair. Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall as he fishes out his keycard.

“Good call,” I say softly.

He looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Walking me to my room. The flowers. The teddy bear. All of it.” I offer a dry smile. “Very husband of you.”

He tilts his head. “You think?”

“In front of a bar full of teammates—and probably some fans? Linda would eat it up.”

Rhett drags a hand over his jaw, thoughtful. He steps forward, eyes flicking to the gifts I just set down.

“Well, Cub,” he says quietly, “I hate to break it to you, but that wasn’t me playing the part. That was just me trying to be a decent person.”

My arms fall to my sides. “You mean you didn’t… You weren’t thinking about the image? Our arrangement? How it would make you look?”

He stares at me like I’ve missed the point entirely.

Then, without warning, he closes the space between us. His hands cup my face—gentle, careful, like I’m something both precious and fragile.

“The only thing I’ve thought about since I saw your face on that TV screen in the locker room is how fucking proud of you I am.”

The words hit harder than I expect. I freeze, warmth flooding my chest, my throat tight.

He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead—soft, lingering. When he pulls back, I’m not sure I’m breathing.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I meant it,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

He nods and quietly turns toward the door.

“Rhett?”

He stops.

“Do you maybe… want to stay? Just for a bit? I’m going to watch highlights from the other games. You could hang around. Unless you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to,” he says, voice careful. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I study him. “Okay…”

“Goodnight,” he says softly, already pulling the door closed.

I move without thinking. My hand shoots out, pulling the door back open, stopping him mid-step .

“Why not?” I ask.

He turns slowly, tension working through his jaw.

“I mean…” I mutter, “just because I can’t give you everything you want doesn’t mean we can’t have anything .”

He exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face. When he looks back at me, his expression is strained, like he’s holding something in.

“Cub… you don’t get it.”

“Then help me get it,” I say.

He hesitates, then shakes his head slightly. “I spent years watching you. Wishing I could have something—your attention, your time, a shot in hell. And now that I’ve had it… now that I know what it’s like to actually touch you, to feel you that close…”

He swallows hard, eyes dark.

“I can’t go back to pretending I’m okay with less.

I can’t un-know it. I’ve done nothing but try these last few weeks.

” He grips the doorknob like it’s keeping him upright.

“Trying to act like I’m fine just being around you as friends is like standing next to an open bottle when I’ve spent years learning not to drink. ”

I blink, my breath catching.

“There are things you don’t know about me,” he says quietly.

“Things I’ve never shared with anyone. But the point is—I know what it’s like to crave something so bad it takes over everything.

I know how easy it is to justify one more hit.

One more high. And being near you when I’m not allowed to want you? Feels a hell of a lot like that.”

He looks down, then back up, meeting my eyes.

“I’ve worked hard to get control. But you?” His voice drops. “You might be the hardest temptation I’ve ever had to resist.”

The air between us turns heavy. Loaded.

“I have limits,” he murmurs. “And you’re dangerously close to all of them.”

I stare at him, my brows pulling together .

“What?” he asks softly.

“I owe you more credit,” I say.

His lips tug into a sad half-smile. “No, you don’t.”

And then he’s gone—leaving me alone with a bouquet, a teddy bear, a hundred unanswered questions, and a slow, unfamiliar ache for a man I never thought I could feel anything for.