He obeyed, because he didn’t have much choice, though I could see the muscles in his jaw flexing. I watched him for a moment, my usual professional detachment tightening around me like a shield.
I launched into it, instructing him to keep his tone measured, to avoid defensiveness, to answer questions without the snark that reporters would jump on. I emphasized repetition, the way posture affects perception, the importance of neutral facial expressions and expecting surprises.
Hunter tried to interject once, a joke, a sidestep, something to lighten the mood. I didn’t let it land. “No. Do it again.”
I could feel his frustration building but held my ground. We were slipping back into that teacher versus student tantrum rhetoric and I didn’t want to lose the progress we’d made.
We went through the lines, over and over, his natural charm clashing with my insistence on control. Somewhere between repetition five and six, I caught a glimpse of him exhaling through his nose, the way his hair fell damp across his forehead from training earlier. Even exhausted, even frustrated, he carried that energy that made him magnetic.
I reminded myself to stay out of it. I reached for my tablet to go over the media schedule, to ignore the stir the sight of him caused in my chest. All because of that stupid DM. I had to get it together, and fast. Hunter was slow on the uptake, but even he’d notice something soon if I didn’t.
“Don’t let the reporter bait you. Don’t give them a reason to twist your words.”
“I’m never baiting anyone!” he shot back. “You make it sound like I go up there to deliberately provoke them.”
“Yes, but it’ll happen if you don’t prepare,” I countered. “Which is why we’re here.”
The fight of wills was electric, but I held my cool. The tension between us was there, yes, but I refused to let it crack my mask or derail the point of this time we had together.
“Alright,” I said, eyes narrowing. “Let’s run a scenario. Ready?”
“Do I get to be charming, or are you just gonna be a nightmare?” he muttered, already bracing.
“Charming doesn’t fix poor answers,” I replied without missing a beat. “Let’s go.”
He sat up straight and actually looked like he was listening. I took it as a good sign, and wasted no time in launching right into it.
“Hunter, the fans are talking about you and some teammates partying last night when your focus should be on the next game, especially at this point in the season. What do you say to that?”
He tapped a fake mic in front of him, laughing at his own stupid joke, and said, “I’d say we all deserved a night off. It was team bonding, which gives us an edge for the upcoming game.”
“Wrong,” I said immediately, deflating his pompous facade. “You sound defensive, like you’re explaining yourself. Try again. And this time, don’t apologize for having a life outside hockey. It makes you weak.”
“Okay… uh…” He tried again, slower. “We all needed a break. I made sure it didn’t affect practice. The team’s ready.”
I tilted my head, eyebrow raised. “Still defensive. Still weak. Let me give you some advice: admit nothing, deflect lightly, and never give the impression that the reporters know more about your life than you do. Try again. And this time, don’t sound so human. You’re a corporate press machine.”
“You want me to lie?”
“I want you tolook like you’re winning the game off the ice,” I said sharply. “Answer.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. ‘We had a little downtime. Team’s ready. Next question?’”
“Better,” I relented. “But watch your tone! You sound like a bored teenage robot. Imagine the entire city is listening, and theywilljudge you. Are you really going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you like this? Control it.”
He groaned out loud. “Holly… have I done something to upset you?”
The question landed like a lightning strike. My stomach tightened. I blinked. No, I told myself. Absolutely not. Professional. No feelings here. Nothing.
“Of course not,” I said immediately, eyes on my screen. But in the very back of my mind, that DM flashed. Just for a second, just enough for me to notice it had never really left.
10
Hunter
The air inside the arena was thick enough to chew. Boards rattled as the Anaheim Ducks slammed another shot on goal and I barely got my glove up in time to deflect it. The puck ricocheted off the post, whistling past Theo’s stick and sliding into the corner.
“Clear it!” I barked, my voice hoarse.
