"Can you?" Cooper's expression isn't hostile, just assessing. "Because tonight suggested otherwise. We need players who can compartmentalize. Who don't let personal drama affect their game."
My chest tightens. He's right. They're both right. I let the viral video, Preston's pressure, Piper's proximity—all of it—get into my head. And it cost me.
"I understand," I say quietly. "I'll do better."
"We hope so." Dawson stands, offering another handshake. "You've got four more games to show us you're the player weneed. The one who leads his team, not the one distracted by trending hashtags."
They leave, and I sit in the empty conference room, staring at motivational posters about focus and dedication that mock me from the walls.
My phone has seventeen texts. Three from Jax checking if I'm alive. Two from Sage, my sister, asking what's wrong because apparently, my sister has ESPN alerts for my games. One from Mom saying she loves me regardless of hockey, which somehow makes it worse.
And one from Piper:
Piper: I'm sorry. This is my fault.
I stare at her message for a long moment, then call her instead of texting back.
She answers on the first ring. "Hey."
"This isn't your fault."
"Ryder—"
"I'm serious. You didn't ask for that video. You didn't ask for any of this." I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes. "I'm the one who can't get my head straight."
"Because of me."
"Because of everything. The scouts, Preston's pressure, the viral video—" I stop. "Can we talk? In person?"
"Now?"
"Now."
Twenty minutes later, we're sitting in my truck in the arena parking lot because my cabin feels too intimate and The Ashwood Café is too public. She's wrapped in that purple parka, hair pulled back, face bare of the makeup she usually wears for content.
She looks beautiful and terrified in equal measure.
"Preston called again after the game," I start. "Said the scouts are concerned about my focus. Said if I'm going to be in a relationship, I need to make it work for me instead of against me."
"So he still wants the fake dating thing."
"Yeah." I turn to face her fully. "And I've been thinking—maybe he's right."
Her expression shuts down immediately. "Ryder?—"
"Hear me out." I hold up a hand. "Not because I think of you as a marketing opportunity. But because whatever's happening between us is clearly already affecting both our careers. The video proved that. So maybe instead of fighting it, we lean into it."
"Lean into it," she repeats, her voice giving nothing away.
"We're already trending together. People already think we're dating. What if we make it official—publicly—with clear boundaries and expectations? It helps my image with the scouts. It helps your brand recovery. Win-win."
"Mutually beneficial," she says, and each word has an edge to it.
"Piper—"
"Let me make sure I understand." She's looking at me now, hazel eyes bright with something that might be anger or hurt or both. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend—for the scouts, for my followers, for everyone watching—because it's good business?"
"That's not—" I stop, because that is what I just said, even if it's not what I meant. "It's not just business."
