"Close the door," he says without looking up.
I do.
He watches the entire thing—all two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of snowball warfare culminating in an almost-kiss interrupted by wildlife. When it ends, he closes the laptop with deliberate care.
"Scouts are coming tonight," he says.
"I know."
"They're not coming to watch you flirt with pretty girls in driveways."
"I know that too."
"Do you?" He leans back in his chair, studying me with thirty years of coaching experience. "Because right now, you're all over social media for everything except hockey. And in three hours, you need to be the captain who leads this team. The player who deserves an NHL contract."
My jaw tightens. "I'll be ready."
"Will you?" He taps his laptop. "That video shows a guy who's distracted. Unfocused. More interested in romance than the game."
"That's not?—"
"I don't care if it's fair, Lockwood. I care if it's true." He stands, moving to the window overlooking the rink. "Your teammates are down there running drills. You're up here trying to explain why your personal life is trending internationally hours before scouts watch your every move."
The words land exactly where he aims them. He's right. I asked Piper for four games to focus, then proceeded to get into a snowball fight that went viral. Real focused, Lockwood.
"Get your head together," Coach says, not unkindly. "Figure out what matters most. Then play like it."
I'm a disaster at practice. Miss passes I should catch. Fumble shots I normally make in my sleep. My timing is off by microseconds that might as well be miles. Every mistake compounds until Coach finally benches me for the last drill.
"Take a lap," he says. "Cool down. Get your head straight."
I skate the perimeter alone while my team runs plays I should be leading. Through the glass, I catch sight of Chief Walsh in the stands, watching with the same expression he wore when I was fourteen and trying to run into burning buildings.
After practice, I find him waiting by my truck.
"Heard you had a rough morning," Chief says, examining his coffee cup with intense focus.
"News travels."
"Small town." He takes a sip. "Also, the entire team group chat is discussing your viral video. Bobby sent me the link."
Of course he did.
"Coach thinks I'm distracted."
"Are you?"
The honest answer sits heavy in my chest. "Yeah."
"By the girl? Or by everyone's reaction to the girl?"
I lean against my truck, letting the cold metal seep through my jacket. "Both. Neither. I don't know anymore. Preston wants me to use the viral moment—make it work for my image. Coachwants me focused on hockey. And Piper—" I stop, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Piper wants what?" Chief prompts.
"I don't know. We haven't actually talked about what's happening between us. Just that we'd wait four games. Except now we're trending and everyone has opinions and—" I drag my hand through my hair. "I'm handling this badly."
"Son, you're handling it like someone who's never been in the spotlight trying to navigate a very public situation." He sets down his coffee. "Here's what I know about you, Ryder Lockwood. You're one of the best hockey players I've ever seen. You're also one of the best firefighters I've trained. But you're also just a man trying to figure out if he can have both a career and a life."
