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Chapter Sixteen

Viggy

Hockey Rule #45: Own your mistakes Media Rule #45: Control the narrative

My call to Lily rang straight to voicemail. Again.

I tossed it to the foot of the bench and slammed another plate onto the bar. The weight room hummed with the usual morning energy—metal clanking, the guys grunting through their sets, pop music bouncing in through the speakers.

“Need a spot?” Silver hovered at my left shoulder as I squared up under the bar.

I shook my head, but he stayed close anyway. Smart guy. Good instincts. He’d wear my C well next season.

I tightened my grip on the bar. I didn’t begrudge Silver my spot. The taste of resentment had faded. Another thing I could thank Lily for. But I sure as hell envied the years he still had in the game. I pushed the thought away and heaved the weights up, launching into my reps with an edge of annoyance.

Twenty-four hours since I’d heard Lily’s voice. Since I’d woken up to her warmth beside me. Since I’d traced the line of her spine, pressed my face into her hair and breathed in the mix of citrus and something warmer that still hadn’t let go of my sheets.

She used to haunt my every step, driving me crazy with her constant questions, her annoying questions. Should have seen this coming. Because even then, I’d tracked her every movement like a cat mesmerized by a squirrel outside a window. Now? Her absence set my teeth on edge.

The shift from barely tolerating her to craving her touch hit me like a check at center ice, unexpected, sharp. Distracting.

Twenty-four hours without a fucking peep? After being skin-to-skin for days?

Was she blowing me off?

Not Hollywood’s style. Whatever else I might have said about her, she was a straight shooter. Never pulled her punches, even when it pissed me off. Especially when it pissed me off. This sudden silent treatment? Out of character and unacceptable.

My jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. I powered through another set, my knee shrieking with each rep. The familiar throb pounded deep in the joint, but the tension knotting between my shoulder blades? That was all Sutton.

Silver stepped forward as I racked the weights. “You good?”

Silver’s words hung in the air between us. He wasn’t just another teammate checking my form—he was doing what a good teammate does. What a good captain does—putting the team first, always. Personal drama had no place in hockey.

“I’m fine.” I sat up, swiped a towel across my face.

My phone taunted me from the end of the bench. Still dark. Every instinct in my body screamed. The same instincts that told me Silver was a man I could trust with my team. Instincts that let me read the ice like a book.

Chicago would hit our arena tomorrow for the first round of the playoffs. I needed laser focus. Not this fog of questions bordering on worry. Not this ache that had nothing to do with my knee.

But that voice in my head wouldn’t shut up. The one that said Lily’s silence meant something. Last I’d seen her, she’d been dodging traffic in the hallway, making a beeline away from me.

“Earth to Viggy.” Silver waved his hand in front of my face. “You sure you’re good? Never seen you miss a count before.”

I blinked. Had I lost track of my sets? “Just planning how to crush Chicago’s soul.” The lie rolled off my tongue with practiced ease. Leadership 101—never show weakness. Never let them think your head’s not in the game. “Speaking of which, your backcheck was garbage this morning. We need more from you against their top line.”

Silver’s smirk told me he saw through my deflection, but he played along, snapping up to his full height. “Yes, Captain, my Captain. Whatever you say, Captain.”

I rolled my eyes at the old movie reference, waved him off and grabbed my phone.

Miss you, Hollywood.

The words stared back at me, too soft, too needy. Delete.

Where the hell are you?

Too aggressive. Delete.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Since when did sending a text message require this much thought? When had I turned into some rookie working up the nerve to talk to a pretty girl, not a grown man checking on my woman?

Because Lily was mine. We’d skipped the whole label conversation, too busy exploring each other’s bodies to waste time on definitions. But in my head, in my heart, she belonged with me. No question. No doubt.

I pictured waking up to her wild bed head, stealing kisses between her endless cups of chai. Her cat judging us from his perch while she burnt another grilled cheese at midnight. The way she fit against me, all curves and sharp edges wrapped in citrus-spice that drove me crazy.

The future stretched ahead crystal clear—her curled up on my couch, working on her laptop while I did whatever-the-fuck I decided to do for retirement. But whatever it was, I’d be coming home to find her and Bright had taken over another corner of my space. Building something permanent, together.

So why did sending one text feel like skating through concrete? I’d faced down enforcers twice my size without flinching. But this woman? She knocked me off balance with just a look.

Fuck this.

You around?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself again.

Three dots appeared immediately. My heart kicked against my ribs, only for the dots to disappear.

Silver’s low whistle cut through the chaos of my thoughts and brought me back to the weight room. “Must be some girl to have you this wrapped up, Cap.”

“Done here.” I shoved to my feet, ignored Silver’s snickering, and pounded through the weight room door.

I prowled down the hallway, my footsteps echoing against the concrete floor. Most of the guys were still in the weight room or hitting their cardio. But plenty of team staff members filled the corridor. They slid to the side as I powered down the hall. Lily usually camped out near the ice or equipment room when she wasn’t holed up in that closet the Unleashed crew called an office.

I spotted dark hair rounding a corner ahead of me and picked up my pace. Before I could call out, Riley stepped into my path.

“Cap! Hold up a sec.”

I shifted my weight, ready to brush him off, but the kid’s expression stopped me cold. His usual puppy-dog enthusiasm had vanished, replaced by something darker. “What’s going on?”

He shot a glance over his shoulder, lowered his voice. “I was hanging around the Unleashed guys earlier. You know, helping Adele with some editing stuff.”

His cheeks flushed. Kid was about as subtle as a freight train when it came to his crush on the older woman. He avoided my eyes. “Adele stepped out, but the tall guy, Traver, he and one of the other camera people started talking. They referred to it as the bye-week episode, tonight’s ep.”

The rookie dragged his hand through his hair, his eyes fixed over my left shoulder. Impatience rode me. I couldn’t care less about the next Unleashed episode. I’d yet to watch one and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. I needed to catch up with Lily, have it out with her. But I was still the captain of this team. “Spit it out, Puppy.”

He scratched the back of his neck, rolled his lips, then blurted, “It’s about you. This week’s episode is about you.”

The words slammed into me with the force of a crushing hit I never saw coming—the kind of shot that leaves you with ringing ears and no fucking clue which way is up.

“What?” My voice sounded hollow, distant. Some other poor bastard’s voice who just found out he’d been sucker-punched by the woman he’d let into his bed. Into his heart.

“Yeah. They’re saying it’s this special episode about your last season.” His eyes darted around the hallway. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about doing it. But the way they were talking…” He trailed off, shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Seems like it might be kinda intense.”

The words landed hard. No warning. No time to spin out of the way. No time to brace for the hit.

My mind whirled in that weird space where your body hasn’t caught up but your gut already knows.

The pain hadn’t even started yet.

Lily had pushed for an episode about me. That time behind the food trucks. And I’d shut her down. Made myself crystal fucking clear.

She wouldn’t have done one anyway. Not without telling me. Not after everything. Not after nights spent tangled in my sheets, her sweet little moans in my ear, her scent all over my skin. Not after we’d become... whatever the hell we were.

Without another word to Riley, I barreled around the corner, past the social media office and the video editing rooms. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out everything except the need to confront her. To know what the hell was happening.

I entered the makeshift space the organization had given the Unleashed crew. Let the door slam behind me with a crack that echoed off the walls. Lily stood at a folding table with her back to me, shoulders pulled bowstring tight.

When she turned, the sight of her gutted me. Shadows bruised beneath her eyes, her skin sickly pale under her usual tan. That messy bun I loved to unravel now pulled tight against her scalp, severe and unforgiving.

“Jack.”

My name slipped from her lips, a thin and hollow whisper that sent an icy spike down my spine. “What’s going on, Lily?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, curling inward like she could physically hold her pieces together. “I need to tell you something.”

“Funny way of showing it, avoiding my messages” The thundering in my head drowned out everything else. “Riley says your show tonight is about me.” My gut clenched as devastation flashed across her face. “Thought I made it pretty clear I wasn’t interested.”

Her gaze flicked up, met mine for a heartbeat before dropping away again. That split second showed me everything—guilt, fear, desperation. My chest squeezed until breathing hurt.

“I messed up.” Her whisper hung in the space between us.

“You messed up?” Fire erupted in my chest, blazed up my throat. Seventeen fucking years maintaining a captain’s composure through injuries, losses, press conferences—worthless now. Her fumbled explanation shredded what remained of my trust, cut deeper than any hit I’d ever taken on the ice. “That’s what you’re calling this?”

She reached toward me, fingers quivering in the empty air. “Jack, let me explain—”

“Sure, go ahead.” I invaded her space, the smell of her citrus shampoo mixing with the acrid burn of betrayal. “Lay it out for me. What kind of bullshit explanation could possibly validate you going against me?” My fingers raked through my hair, scalp stinging with the violence of it. “No, wait—explain how you went behind my back after I explicitly said I wanted nothing to do with your idea. Better yet, explain how you fucked me all the while knowing you were fucking me over.”

Color rushed to her cheeks, painting blotchy patches across her skin. “It wasn’t like that. You know—”

“No?” I huffed out an angry excuse for a laugh. “Then tell me what it was like, Lily?” Her name tasted sour on my tongue. “ Tell me how you justify this shit. Getting close to me, crawling into my bed. What—did you think I’d change my mind if you spread your legs? That I’d just magically sign off on your little expose? But you never even worked up the balls to ask again, did you?”

She dropped her arms, fists clenched at her sides. “Dammit, Jack. I didn’t need your permission to do the episode; the Aces organization authorized everything. I had nothing to gain by sleeping with you. You’re mixing things up.”

My teeth ground together, pain sparking in my jaw. “You didn’t need my permission.” The words landed low and rough, scraping against the raw edges of my anger.

She pressed shaking fingers to her lips, her eyes glassy. “Mark was threatening to pull the plug on the show. We needed something big for the playoffs and he killed all my other ideas. Then I messed up, let Mark know what I’d seen at Lady Bird Lake...”

The laugh that ripped from my throat burned. “Ah, I see. Your career on the line, so fuck everyone else. Is that it?”

“That’s not fair.”

“ Fair ?” I closed the last bit of space between us, towering over her. “You want to talk about fair ? An episode about me after I told you no? After I made it damn clear I didn’t want this kind of attention? I trusted you, Lily. Let you close. And you—” The words jammed in my throat, harsh and cutting. “What’s even in this thing? How bad is it going to be?”

She lifted her chin, steel flashing through the hurt in her eyes. “I had a job to do. Malone was making demands. I did what I could to—”

I barked out another laugh, sharp enough to slice.

She flinched, dropping her chin, her shoulders rounding. Her voice lost its fire when she spoke. “You signed the same contracts and releases as everyone else, Viggy. You’ve been notified of the cameras, you know me and my team are constantly talking to the players, the coaches, everyone involved in the organization. Nothing we did broke any rules.”

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” I exhaled hard, my pulse slamming against my ribs. “Because you know you didn’t break any rules?” I shook my head, the rage simmering into something sharper, heavier. Colder. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly what it would cost.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “I knew you’d react like this, yes! I knew you’d hate me, and I couldn’t stand—” She cut herself off, dragging in a ragged breath.

I waited. Gave her a chance to defend herself. To tell me she’d at least tried to do right by me. That it wasn’t the evisceration I expected.

But she didn’t say it.

She didn’t fucking say it.

Something in my chest twisted, hard and brutal.

I exhaled slowly, controlled, even as my hands curled into fists. “What’s in the episode, Lily?”

Her gaze darted away.

I took a step forward. “ What’s in it ?”

She flinched but still wouldn’t look at me. “Malone wanted drama.” Her voice barely made it past her lips. “And I—I gave him what he wanted.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut.

I huffed out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Of course you did.”

“Jack—”

“ Save it .” My words iced the air between us. “I’m sure your audience will eat it up. The broken-down captain. His greed for the Cup more important than anything. Or did you go for something even more dramatic? Maybe a tragic downfall? A cautionary tale?”

Her face crumpled. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like, Hollywood?” The nickname came out twisted, ugly and foul on my tongue. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re no better than the vultures you pretend to hate. Worse, actually. At least they’re honest about what they want.”

She flinched, as if I’d landed a blow. “Jack—”

“It airs this week?”

“In our usual slot, day after tomorrow.”

Perfect fucking timing. Distraction right when my team needed to be focused the most.

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Considerate of you. Hard to believe, too, considering you’ve ignored my messages for two days.” My words dripped acid. “Anything else I need to know? Any other bombs you want to drop before I go explain to my team why their captain’s private business is about to be made public for everyone and their mother to see?”

Her lips parted, hesitation flickering across her face. She braced herself as though about to step straight into oncoming traffic. “I know about your knee, Jack.”

My stomach dropped.

“It happened in that game against Seattle, right?” She hesitated. “Coach Mack reviewed the hit with me. You were slammed into the boards from behind. You never saw the hit coming. Johannsen got your revenge. Coach said it was just unlucky—”

No.

The air in my lungs turned to ice.

Of all the things, all the betrayals, I’d let myself hope she wouldn’t go there. That even if she’d fed Malone his clickbait, she would’ve shielded me just a little. Just enough to not ruin my life.

The unspoken secret between us. The one we’d never talked about, but she’d known ever since Paddle for the Playoffs.

And she’d used it anyway.

My blood froze.

Then it burned.

She rolled her lips, tipped her face up to mine, eyes wide. “The team will understand—”

‘I let out a sharp breath, cutting her off. “The team?” The words ripped from my throat. Blood pounded in my ears. I shot my hand out, swiped across the folding table. The crash of the monitor landing didn’t even take the edge off the pressure building in my chest. I couldn’t fucking breathe . “‘They’ll understand,’ she says. You’ve been in our space for eight fucking months and you still know nothing. You think they’ll just shrug this off?”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“Bullshit. There’s always a choice.” I straightened to my full height, let every bit of the contempt clogging up my thinking fill my voice. “You made yours. Hope it was worth it.”

I pivoted, my knee protesting, the pain swallowed by the riot of emotions inside me. Behind me, she gasped, loud in the sudden quiet.

“Jack, please—”

“We’re done here, Sutton.” I yanked the door open. “Stay the hell away from me.”