Page 12

I sat rigid in Coach Evans' office, my knees practically touching his cluttered desk, as the words I'd been waiting eleven seasons to hear finally came out of his mouth.

"Matthews, the 'C' is yours. Harold Whitman approved it this morning."

The captaincy. Mine. Finally.

I should have been wholly focused on this moment but my first thought was of Riley. I needed to tell her. She was the reason this was happening, after all.

"Thank you, Coach." I managed to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through me. "I won't let you down."

"You better not," Evans said. "Press conference at three. Don't be late, Captain."

Captain. The word sent a thrill through me that was almost physical.

As soon as I left his office, I pulled out my phone to text Riley.

It worked. I got the C.

Her response came almost immediately:

Never doubted you for a second, CAPTAIN! Congratulations!!!

I couldn't help smiling as I typed back:

Dinner tonight to celebrate?

Her reply was swift:

Absolutely! Let's try that new French place everyone's been talking about. Impossible to get reservations... unless you're the new captain of the Boston Blizzard

I grinned at my phone. Over these past few weeks, I'd learned that Riley had a practical mind that could be surprisingly devious when needed.

I'll get Diane on it. She'll make it happen.

Perfect. Now go be brilliant at your press conference, Captain Matthews.

I slipped my phone into my pocket, still smiling as I headed to the locker room to change for the media. Max was already there, sprawled across the bench in front of his stall.

"There he is!" he shouted when I walked in. "The chosen one! The anointed one! The one who sold his bachelor soul for a letter on his jersey!"

"Shut up," I said, but I was laughing.

"Seriously though, congrats, man." Max stood to give me a back-slapping hug. "Well deserved and only about three seasons overdue."

"Thanks."

"So how's the little woman taking the news? Proud of her captainly husband?"

I rolled my eyes at his teasing. "She's happy for me. We're celebrating tonight."

"Ah, a romantic evening. Very convincing." Max waggled his eyebrows. "Though I notice you're not denying she's 'your little woman' anymore."

"Because arguing with you is pointless," I said, changing into my media suit. "She's my wife, not 'my little woman.' And she suggested that new French place."

"Fancy." Max whistled. "You know, for a marriage of convenience, you two seem to be enjoying each other's company an awful lot."

I shot him a warning look. "Keep your voice down. And it's called being professional."

Max held up his hands in surrender, but his smirk remained firmly in place. "Whatever you say, Captain."

An hour later, I sat at the press conference table, flanked by Coach Evans. The questions were mostly what I'd expected—how I felt about the responsibility, what kind of captain I planned to be, whether I'd spoken to our previous captain who'd retired last season.

And then came the curve ball.

"Caleb," called a reporter I recognized from the Boston Paper, "many would say this past year has seen significant changes in your personal life. How has settling down and getting married changed your approach to leadership on the ice?"

The room went quiet. It was exactly the question I'd been prepped for, yet I hesitated. The canned answer Diane had prepared felt hollow suddenly.

"Marriage has..." I paused, searching for the right words. "It's given me perspective. When hockey is your whole life, it's easy to get lost in the pressure. Every win feels like salvation, every loss like the end of the world."

"Riley—my wife—she works harder than anyone I've ever met.

She puts her whole heart into her restaurant, but she still finds time to ask about my day, to care about things beyond her own world.

She's taught me that leadership isn't just about what happens during the game.

It's about seeing the whole person, not just the player. "

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware I'd said more than I intended.

"So yeah, I guess marriage has changed me. For the better."

The room was silent for a beat, then erupted with follow-up questions. Coach Evans shot me an approving nod.

Later, in the car driving home, I replayed my answer in my head. The words had felt genuine despite their calculated origins.

My phone buzzed suddenly with a text from Riley:

Just saw a clip from your press conference. Nice things you said about your wife, Captain

I smiled and typed back:

Just keeping up appearances. But you do work harder than anyone I know. That part's true.

Her response made me laugh:

Thanks. Remember to bring your appetite tonight. I heard the portions at this place are microscopic. We might need to hit a drive-thru on the way home.

As I pulled into the parking garage of our building, I found myself looking forward to tonight more than I'd anticipated. Celebrating the captaincy was important, but somehow, celebrating it with Riley mattered even more.