“Thanks.”
“You held them to one goal. Made highlight-reel saves. That’s how you win over a city. That’s how you start a season.”
I shrugged. Compliments were fine. Compliments with strings attached were something else.
She reached for a comb on her desk, gesturing. “Come here.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because you’re about to be on camera and you look like a guy who wrestled a grizzly.”
“I did. The bear was wearing a Blackhawks jersey.”
She gave a small laugh but didn’t back down. “Seriously, Callahan. Cameras magnify everything. You can’t be sweaty and unkempt. Youhave to look the part.”
I stayed put. “I’m a goalie, not a senator. I look the part as is.”
“You’re about to become the new darling of the NHL if you let me do my job.”
I leaned back until the old chair threatened to stop holding me up. “I’m not interested in being anyone’s darling.”
Her eyes flicked up, locking with mine. Calm, direct. “Then be interested in helping your team. PR is part of that.”
The room felt even smaller. She stepped closer, comb in hand, and before I could protest, she smoothed a piece of hair back from my forehead. Her perfume was different to how she acted sometimes. Softer. It cut through the lingering smell of sweat coming from my gear.
“Hold still,” she murmured.
I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. Her fingers were warm on my jaw, holding my head in place while she fixed my hair.
“Alright. Listen. Post-game scrum. You stick to the script.”
I exhaled. “I’m not a dog on a leash, Holly.”
“No,” she said with a measured tone. “But you’re the face of a franchise now. You can either control the narrative or let it control you.”
I looked at her. “You really think coaching will fix me?”
“I know it will.”
We held the stare a beat too long. She was still standing close, one hand flat on my chest where she’d just adjusted my shirt. Her expression gave nothing away, but I could’ve sworn I saw something flash behind her eyes.
Finally, she stepped back. “Key points: Team effort. Excited for the season. Respect for Chicago. No mention of Trey. None. You got it?”
“I got it.” I sighed and readjusted my shirt that suddenly felt like it didn’t fit me.
“Say it back to me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
I sighed. “Team effort. Excited, uh, excited about respect?”
“You’re not even trying,” she said, waving an arm in frustration. She rounded her desk and dropped into her chair. Leather. The only nice thing in here. Aside from her, of course.
“Just let Coach and Griffin do the talking.” I got up and paced the length of the room. Which wasn’t much, and had me turning every three strides. “Or even Mason. Everybody loves him.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but Bob’s right.” She looked like she might gag. “About you being the story. It’s your time, Callahan. You gotta take it.”
