Page 6

six

CAROLINE

Tomorrow comes entirely too quickly.

I lean back from the mirror, checking my work.

A tiny smudge of nude lip liner clings to the corner of my mouth, so I wipe it away with a practiced flick.

Then I run my hands through my chin-length blonde waves—making sure I’ve put just enough effort into my “effortless” look.

Because, you know, women on TV are supposed to look drop-dead gorgeous, but not like they tried to be.

Just another layer to this career path I’ve chosen.

The only one I’d put up with all this bullshit for.

I glance down at the watch on my wrist. Fifteen minutes until I’m due to meet Courtney outside the Storm’s locker room.

We ran through tonight’s talking points an hour ago with the rest of the broadcast team.

I managed to get through the meeting without launching my heel at Mick Davis’s smug face, which frankly feels like a personal victory.

“Caroline Barrett? No way,” Mick said, tone practically oozing superiority. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

As if I don’t practically lived at this arena for the last few years. As if everyone in our master’s program didn’t know my one and only goal was to work for the Storm’s broadcast team.

“If only I could say the same about you, Dick,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Great to see you, Mick,” I replied, flashing my best fake smile.

He looked me up and down. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“I’m the rinkside reporter this season,” I said through gritted teeth. “Or will be once Courtney Evans goes on maternity leave. I’m shadowing her until then.”

“Huh,” he tutted. “Didn’t think you’d be into something like that.”

“And I didn’t think you were even into hockey.”

“It’s not exactly a requirement,” he said, adjusting his tie—which, of course, was the wrong shade of green for the Storm. “Gotta get your foot in the door somewhere, right?”

I bit my tongue—literally—to stop myself from telling him where I’d like to put my foot. Thankfully, Courtney arrived then, glowing and visibly pregnant, which meant the meeting could finally start.

I shove all that from my mind as I head toward the Storm’s locker room.

And then I see Rhett.

Down the hall, full gear minus the helmet—he never wears it for warm-ups—twirling his stick like it’s an extension of his hand. He’s leaning against the wall, Sutty smirk in place, charming two VIP women who are looking at him like he hung the moon.

He leans in, says something out of the corner of his mouth, and they both burst out laughing. Then, smooth as ever, he lifts the blonde’s badge to read her name and brushes the brunette’s hair off her shoulder .

Fifteen seconds, and I can see it happening.

That pull. That force field he carries without even trying.

I turn my body away, scowl locked in place.

New season, new title. Same old Rhett.

I don’t know why I would’ve expected anything different.

I pull out my phone, planning to review the stats I recorded last night and go over my notes from the broadcast meeting. That’s when I notice the time.

Courtney should be here by now.

I glance up, scanning the hallway. No sign of her.

I open my messages and start a new one to her.

Me: Hi, Courtney. I’m just outside the locker room. Still good to meet her?

I switch to my notes app, tapping my foot as I wait. A couple minutes pass.

Me: Just checking I’m in the right place. You’re on camera at 6:45, right?

That’s in thirteen minutes. I’m usually calm under pressure, but a flicker of panic creeps into my chest.

Me: Courtney?

“What are you doing down here?” a voice asks suddenly—way too close behind me.

I jump, spinning around. “Jesus Christ.”

“Nope. Your other savior,” Rhett grins. “Feel free to worship me.”

“Yeah,” I scoff, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. “Try that line on your VIP fan club. Where’d they go, anyway?”

“Who?”

“The women you were just talking to. ”

“Oh.” He glances back. “I don’t know.”

“They just disappeared into thin air?”

He shrugs. “I saw you.”

My brows pull together. “What?”

“So I came over here.”

I clear my throat. “Shouldn’t you be in the locker room…captain-ing? Instead of bothering women?”

“Probably,” he nods. “Shouldn’t you be up at the TV analyst desk?”

“Yes,” I say instantly.

Because it’s the truth. I should be up there.

“So you got it?” Rhett asks, brows raised. “You got the job?”

I hum, smiling tightly.

Not a lie. Not really an answer.

“That’s amazing, Care Bear!” His grin widens. “I was a little worried yesterday. I saw you leaving the office. Thought you looked upset.”

I say nothing. You usually don’t have to for Rhett to carry a conversation.

“But I guess that was tears of joy,” he adds, bumping my shoulder. “And now here we are—both shirking responsibility.”

A humorless laugh escapes me, and suddenly—my blood is boiling.

Because I’ve never shirked a responsibility in my life. I’ve gone above and beyond, over-prepared, over-performed, and still got passed over. Meanwhile Rhett Sutton—handed a title others would kill for—can’t even pretend to care.

“We are not the same,” I tell him.

His smile flickers. “Trust me. I know.”

“What is your problem?” I blurt.

“What do you mean?”

“Can you at least act like you give a shit?”

“About what? ”

“Anything!” I throw up my hands. “You’re Captain, Rhett. This is the first game of the season. So many people would kill to be in your position.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve told your dad to give it to one of them.”

I scoff. “Or maybe you should grow up.”

“Big words from a baby bear.”

I rear back.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he mutters.

“I don’t have to,” I snap. “You made the commitment—so figure it out.”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “And for the record? I did tell my dad to give it to someone else. Anyone else. He didn’t listen.”

Rhett’s mouth falls open, stunned into silence—just as my phone rings.

Courtney.

I turn away and answer. “Courtney, hey?—”

“Change of plans,” she cuts in, breathless and frantic. “Baby decided to come early. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“Oh my God?—”

“Caroline, I need you to take over. Please, can you?—”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. My heart’s pounding, but my brain flips into gear. “I’ve got it. No problem.”

“I’m so sorry?—”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” I assure her. “Focus on you and the baby.”

“Thank you,” her voice cracks. “Bryan should be coming to get you.”

“ Gentlemen, line up—let’s go! ” my dad’s voice booms down the hall.

I lift my head and immediately spot Bryan hustling toward me. “I see him,” I tell her .

“Great,” Courtney sighs. “Good luck, Caroline. You’ve got this.”

“Right back at you.” I hang up, exhale, and look back at Rhett.

He’s still standing where I left him.

His face is unreadable now. No teasing grin. No smirk.

I blow out a shaky breath. “Rhett?—”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Cub,” he says flatly, tossing his stick up and catching it before turning away.

The arena announcer calls the team to the ice.

Rhett starts to walk off, then glances back. “Congrats on getting the job,” he says. “I knew you would.”

And then he jogs down the tunnel, joins his teammates, and steps onto the ice—smirk sliding right back into place like a perfect mask.