Mac's mind was racing. Derek Matthews. Why did that name feel familiar in a way that had nothing to do with hockey?
"What are we going to do?" Tyler asked.
"Right now? Nothing," Coach Davies said, his voice carrying the authority of fifteen years coaching. "We don't respond to every troll with a microphone. We focus on playing good hockey. We trust our PT staff and I trust Ellie Winters with every player on this team. We don't engage with his bullshit. Clear?"
The team murmured agreement, but the tension didn't dissipate.
"Now get back to practice," Coach Davies said. "But Cole, you and Ellie talk to the league office if you need to. This kind of public attack on staff isn't acceptable."
As they broke apart to resume drills, Mac's mind kept circling back to that name. Derek.
18
Mac
Mac sat in his truck outside the rink, phone in hand, reading the Hockey Weekly article for the third time.
"Elite PT Derek Matthews: 'Small Market Teams Are Failing Their Players'"
The article was smooth, diplomatic even. But the implications were clear: teams like the Eagles were second-rate. Their staff unqualified. Their success built on luck rather than skill.
And then, near the end, one line made Mac's blood run cold:
"I've seen firsthand how relationships can compromise professional judgment. When a therapist becomes personally involved with a player, objectivity goes out the window. It's a liability the sport can't afford."
He was talking about Cole and Ellie.
Mac scrolled to a related article:"Derek Matthews Headed to Vermont? Sources Say Elite PT Considering Consultation Role."
Vermont. This guy was coming here.
Mac thought about Rachel's face last night when she'd asked, too casually, if he'd heard of anyfamous physical therapists making news lately. The way she'd said Derek's name instead of Brad's, then quickly corrected herself.
He hadn't paid enough attention. Now he wondered if he should have.
Mac's fingers moved almost on their own, typing: Derek Matthews Brad Reese
The photo loaded immediately: Derek Matthews and Brad Reese at some hockey charity event, arms around each other's shoulders, both grinning. The caption read: "PT Dr. Derek Matthews with client and friend Brad Reese."
Client. And friend.
Mac stared at the screen, his stomach twisting. Rachel's ex-fiancé, the one who'd humiliated her at their engagement party, who'd told her she wasn't enough, had been friends with Derek Matthews.
And now Matthews was stirring up controversy in the hockey world, heading to Vermont, right when Rachel was finally building a life here.
This wasn't a coincidence.
Mac didn't know what Matthews wanted or why he was doing this. But if that man thought he could come to Evergreen Cove and hurt people Mac loved, he had another thing coming.
He checked his phone. Rachel would be at his apartment in two hours.
Tonight, he'd cook her dinner. Make her laugh. Show her she was safe.
And tomorrow, he'd figure out what the hell Matthews was planning.
Because one thing was crystal clear: Matthews wasn't just attacking small-market hockey.
He was targeting the people Mac loved.
