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CAROLINE

Austin, TX, USA

I have a good feeling as I knock on the office door.

“Come in.”

I push it open gently, smiling when I see Bryan Johnston, the Texas Storm’s director of broadcasting, sitting behind his desk.

“Hey there, Bryan,” I say.

“Caroline,” he grins, waving me in. “Thanks so much for coming.”

I open the door wider, and my smile grows when I spot Amy, Storm’s head of human resources seated next to him.

“Oh, hi, Amy. I wasn’t expecting you to join us today,” I say—even though that’s kind of a lie—and grin. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You as well, Caroline,” she replies, smiling back.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Bryan offers, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

“I’m fine standing,” I tell him, setting my bag down on the chair and planting my feet next to it. “But thank you. ”

“Suit yourself,” he says, brows pulling together slightly.

He probably thinks it’s strange that I’m refusing a seat, but I honestly don’t care. I’ve always felt more confident standing. And right now, I’m too wired with anticipation to sit still even if I wanted to.

“So, I think you know why I asked you to come in today,” Bryan says.

“I have an idea,” I confirm.

“The TV analyst role we’ve been discussing?—”

“Yes,” I nod, cutting him off before he can finish. It makes him chuckle.

“Well,” he says, clapping his hands together, “what can I say, Caroline?” He glances at Amy, then back at me. “You’re so well-suited for the role.”

I can’t stop myself from beaming. “I’m really glad to hear you say that.”

“Of course,” he continues. “I know you’re young, but frankly, you’re more knowledgeable about hockey than half the men in this office—and I’d say that to their faces.”

My throat tightens unexpectedly.

“You’re bright. You’ve proven yourself both academically and on the job working with Courtney this past season. You’ve got a strong personal connection to the Storm, which, in my eyes, is nothing but a plus.”

He gets it, I think.

“You’ve got the personality. The skill. No doubt in my mind—you’d be amazing.”

“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks starting to ache from smiling so much.

“Which is why I’ll make sure you’re top of mind when the next opportunity on the broadcast team opens up.”

“I promise I won’t let you down, Bryan. I really just want to thank you so much for the?— ”

I stop. Blinking. My brain finally catches up to what he just said.

“Wait…” I breathe. “What do you mean when the next opportunity arises? Hasn’t it already…” I motion vaguely with my hand, “arisen?”

Bryan’s lips twist. “Why don’t you take a seat, Caroline?”

“No, thank you,” I say, locking my eyes on his even as he starts to avoid mine. I swallow hard and fasten one of the buttons on my white blazer—anything to give my hands something to do.

“So I didn’t get the job?” I finally ask.

“Here’s the thing, Caroline…”

“Who got it?” I blurt, cutting him off. I know it’s not professional, but I’m giving myself grace right now.

Bryan’s throat bobs. He attempts a smile. “Someone I believe you actually know quite well, believe it or not.”

I raise my brows.

“Michael Davis. I believe you were in the same master’s program?”

It’s like the entire room melts around me.

“Dick…” I mutter under my breath, barely audible.

But apparently not quiet enough. Bryan nods. “Mick, yes.” Clearly he heard me wrong. “He actually mentioned you quite a bit in his interview.”

A scoff slips out before I can stop it.

Of course he did. He probably needed something to talk about, considering?—

“He doesn’t know anything about hockey,” I say aloud before I can think better of it.

Bryan’s brow creases, and he adjusts his tie. “That’s not true. He knows a fair bit. And he actually said you inspired him to become more invested in the sport—his classmate’s father being the head coach of the Storm and all. ”

I say nothing, staring down at him, jaw tight. If I speak now, I know I’ll regret it.

“And, in fact, his family actually has some ties to the team as well,” Bryan adds.

I squint, confusion creeping in. “How?” I ask. Because that can’t be true. I’d know.

“Well, his father has made sizable donations to the Texas Storm Foundation.”

My spine stiffens. “How sizable?”

Bryan folds his hands on the desk. “Five million dollars.”

“And when did that happen?” I ask, voice low and even.

The way Bryan hesitates—and the pitying glance from Amy—is all the confirmation I need.

“Let me guess,” I say. “Recently.”

“Caroline—”

I step back, holding up both hands as I clear my throat. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Caroline—” Bryan tries again, but I’m already halfway to the door.

“I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you again,” I say.

“Caroline, please wait,” Amy calls. It’s her voice—not Bryan’s—that stops me.

“There’s more to discuss.”

I spin back, forcing my face to stay neutral. “More?”

Amy nods gently, motioning for me to come back. “Please.”

“A lot went into this decision-making process, Caroline,” Bryan says.

“Oh, I’m sure,” I reply, my voice flat with barely veiled sarcasm.

“The overall consensus was that Mick was a good choice for the analyst role,” he continues, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “But even more so, the unanimous consensus was that you were the perfect—more obvious—choice for another one.”

I blink. “Another one? What do you mean? What other role is open?”

“Well…” Bryan starts, both he and Amy smiling so broadly I start to wonder if I’m missing something. “Courtney’s, as it turns out.”

My lips part. “What?”

“She’s going on maternity leave in about two weeks,” Amy says.

“Courtney’s… pregnant?” I ask.

Amy nods. “She only found out at the end of last season. But after the summer break, she’s about ready to pop.”

I press my lips together, thinking back to all the times Courtney wasn’t feeling well—especially the day I filled in for her. Suddenly, it all makes sense. “Good for her,” I murmur.

“Yes, very good,” Amy claps. “That said, she’s considering taking the entire season off to adjust to motherhood. And when it became clear she had the perfect replacement, it all just made sense.”

My brows lift. “The perfect replacement?”

“That’s right,” Bryan nods.

“And that’s me?” I ask. When they just look between each other, I clarify, “Rinkside reporter?”

“Well, yes,” Bryan confirms. “Isn’t it great?”

“Why am I perfect for rinkside reporting and not for the TV analyst role?” I ask, my voice colder now.

Bryan’s face falls. “We thought this would be a perfect stepping stone for you to work your way up?—”

“So I need a stepping stone, but Mick Davis doesn’t?” The words are sharp. My professionalism is gone.

“Well, Caroline, that role requires a certain level of experience and knowledge?— ”

“You just said I know more about hockey than half the men in this office. I do know more than Mick Davis. And I already have experience—both personally and professionally.”

“Which is why we felt you were the best woman to take over this role,” Bryan interrupts.

My shoulders stiffen. “The best woman?” I repeat, my voice dropping.

He clears his throat. “The best person.”

“No,” I cut him off. “You said woman. Because rinkside reporting is a woman’s job, right?”

“Caroline—”

“Stand there, smile, ask the questions I already know the answers to, right? While the men in the studio get to do the real commentary?”

“Caroline,” Bryan says, standing now. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

Am I? Or am I just saying what you won’t?

I cross my arms and let him continue.

“Like I said, a lot went into this. It wasn’t a decision we took lightly. I know what you’re capable of. I’ve known you since you were a kid.”

I bring my eyes back to his.

“I’m not the only one making decisions,” he adds. “There are a lot of factors at play.”

“I get it,” I tell him flatly.

“I know it’s not your dream job. But almost no one gets their dream job right away. You’ll get there. Just show a little patience.”

I exhale through my nose. The silence that follows is heavy, but I let it stretch.

“Okay,” I finally say.

“Okay?” Bryan repeats.

“Yes,” I nod. “ Okay.”

He raises a brow.

“Thank you for considering me. Thank you for offering me the rinkside reporter role,” I say, lifting my bag onto my shoulder.

“So… do you accept it?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” he and Amy ask in unison.

“Yes,” I say again, smoothing my skirt. “Is that all?”

“Um, well, yes,” Bryan says.

“I assume I can start tomorrow?”

“That would be preferred?—”

“I can make it work. Thank you again.”

I turn and head for the door.

“Sorry, Caroline? We’ll need you to sign some paperwork?—”

“Can it be done over email?” I ask, pausing.

“Well, I suppose?—”

“Send it over,” I say. “I’ll have it back before the end of the day.”

And then I’m gone.

I don’t stop until I’m out of the back offices and into the main hallway. I pass the windows overlooking the Storm’s final practice before tomorrow’s game. I don’t mean to look, but my eyes flick over on instinct.

And I see him.

Rhett.

He’s standing still while the rest of the team skates laps. Helmet off. One hand on his hip. The other clutching the helmet loosely by his side.

Our eyes meet.

It lasts only a second—maybe less.

But it’s like he sees it all.

Everything in me stills .

His brows lift slightly, just enough for me to see the question in his face. The concern. And worse—the understanding.

He sees too much.

He always has.

My jaw locks. I rip my gaze away and keep walking.

I don’t let myself glance back.

Not even once.

It’s not until I’m safe in my car, the door shut behind me, that a single tear slips down my cheek.

I wipe it away. Sniff once. Steady my breath.

There’s no time for tears.

I have a new job to prepare for.

And it starts tomorrow.