"The smartest."
We're quiet for a moment, and it's not uncomfortable. Just two people standing in Northbound Outfitters, being honest about things most people hide.
"Actually," I start, then stop. Because what am I doing? Am I really about to suggest fake dating the woman I promised I'd wait four games to figure things out with?
"Actually what?" She's watching me with those hazel eyes that seem to see through every defense I've built.
"My agent called this morning." The words come out before I can reconsider them. "He suggested that being seen together might be good for both our careers. You need content, I need visibility. A mutually beneficial arrangement."
Her expression shuts down so fast I actually take a step back. "A mutually beneficial arrangement."
"That came out wrong?—"
"No, I think it came out exactly right." She's already moving past me, the purple parka clutched against her chest like armor. "Thanks for the coat advice, Lockwood. Very neighborly of you."
"Piper, wait?—"
But she's gone, moving fast enough that I know I've screwed this up. I stand there like an idiot, surrounded by thermal underwear and camping equipment, trying to figure out how I managed to make things worse.
"Smooth," a voice says behind me.
I turn to find Chief Walsh examining work gloves, his expression a mix of disappointment and amusement. "How much of that did you hear?"
"Enough." He tests the flexibility of a glove, not looking at me. "Let me guess—your agent suggested fake dating for publicity, and you just pitched it to her like a business merger?"
"Something like that."
"Son." He sets down the glove with that deliberate care that means I'm about to get a lecture. "If you're actually interested in a woman, you don't lead with 'mutually beneficial arrangement.' That's how you negotiate equipment purchases, not relationships."
"We're not in a relationship."
"Not yet. But you want to be, which is why that pitch went over like a lead balloon." He picks up another pair of gloves, examines them with more attention than they deserve. "That girl's dealt with enough fake people using her for content and clout. What she needs is someone genuine. Someone who sees her as a person first, not a career move."
"I know that."
"Do you?" His eyes meet mine then, and there's something sharp in that gaze—the same look he gave me when I was fourteen and trying to run into burning buildings to prove something. "Because from where I'm standing, you just treated her exactly like everyone else has. Made her feel like she's only valuable for what she can do for you."
The words hit harder than any check I've ever taken on the ice.
"How do I fix this?"
"Start by figuring out what you actually want." Chief moves toward the checkout with his gloves, but pauses. "Do you want her because she's convenient for your career? Or do you want her because when she's around, you remember there's more tolife than proving yourself to scouts who don't know you from Adam?"
He doesn't wait for an answer, just heads to pay for his purchase, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the uncomfortable realization that he's absolutely right.
I want Piper. Not for Preston's compelling narrative or social media visibility or any of the strategic reasons that make sense on paper. I want her because she deleted footage to preserve something real. Because she named a moose Morris and takes notes on fire-starting like there'll be a test. Because when she looks at me, she sees past the captain's jersey and the pressure and all the walls I've built.
But I just offered her a business arrangement.
"Fuck," I mutter to the thermal underwear display.
My phone buzzes. Piper's name lights up the screen:
Piper: For the record, I'm not for sale. Not for content, not for visibility, not for whatever "compelling narrative" your agent wants. I thought you were different. Guess I was wrong.
Before I can respond, another text comes through:
Piper: Also, Morris says you're an idiot.
