Mac skated to the bench, pulling off his helmet and grabbing his water bottle. Cole had already headed to the locker room, probably needed to tape his stick or something.
Mac was chugging water when he spotted him.
A man in an expensive suit standing near the entrance to the rink, watching practice.
Derek-fucking-Matthews.
Mac was glad Cole had left. He'd been holding himself back around Derek, but Cole? After what that asshole had done to Ellie? Cole would've thrown punches first and dealt with the suspension later.
Mac's hands clenched around his stick so hard his knuckles went white.
Coach noticed immediately. He followed Mac's line of sight, his weathered face hardening. "Want me to kick him out?"
"No," Mac said quietly. "I'll handle it."
"Don't do anything stupid."
"I won't."
But Mac was already skating toward the boards where Derek stood.
Derek smiled as Mac approached. That professional, reasonablesmile that made Mac want to punch something. Him especially.
"Ryan MacKenzie," Derek said pleasantly, like they were old friends meeting for coffee. "Mind if we talk for a moment?"
"Yes, I mind. You should leave." Mac's words dropped the temperature in the room. "This is a closed practice."
"The door was unlocked. I assumed visitors were welcome." Derek's tone was maddeningly casual. "I wanted to see the team in action. Very impressive. You have real talent."
"Cut the bullshit, Matthews. Why are you here?"
"I understand you're upset about the article. But I want you to know, it's nothing personal against Ellie. It's simply professional concern about proper medical oversight and qualified care for athletes—"
"Bullshit." Mac kept his voice low, controlled, but the fury was evident. "You targeted Ellie because she succeeded where big-city doctors failed. You can't stand that a small-town practitioner is better at her job than you."
Derek's smile never wavered. "I understand that's how it might appear from your perspective. You're loyal to your team, to this town. That's admirable."
"You stay away from the team. From Ellie. From Rachel."
Derek raised his hands slightly, his expression amused. "So aggressive. Just like every other hockey player I've worked with, all passion, no strategy." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But Mac, can I offer you some professional advice? Athlete to athlete?"
"No."
"I will anyways. Rachel Morrison is a lovely woman. Intelligent, stable. All excellent qualities for someone settling down." Derek's tone was conversational, like they were discussing playoff brackets. "But I've worked with professional athletes for fifteen years. I've seen what happens when talented players tie themselves to small towns and relationships that limit their potential."
Mac's jaw locked. His stick felt like it might snap in his grip. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're young, talented. You have real potential beyond minor league hockey in Vermont. But staying here, playing for the Eagles, dating a small-townlibrarian, you're actively limiting yourself." Derek paused, letting the words sink in. "I saw the same pattern with Brad Reese. His relationship with Rachel held him back from opportunities that could have transformed his career."
"Brad was an asshole who publicly humiliated Rachel because you told him to."
"I encouraged Brad to prioritize his future and his potential. Is that really so terrible?" Derek's expression was maddeningly sympathetic. "Mac, I'm not telling you to leave Rachel. I'm simply asking; have you thought about what staying in Evergreen Cove means long-term? What you're giving up for a relationship that may or may not last?"
"I've turned down bigger offers for years. Long before I met Rachel."
"Have you? Or have you told yourself that to justify staying in your comfort zone?" Derek tilted his head, studying Mac like a specimen. "Mac, you're limiting yourself. And eventually, you'll realize that. And Rachel knows that. Deep down, she knows you'll eventually leave, just like Brad did."
Mac wanted to punch him. Wanted to grab Derek by his expensive suit and throw him out of the rink.
