No one in here wants anything from me besides what I give on the ice.
No one is tallying favors, or looking for a return on investment, or threatening to disinherit me if I don’t do what they ask.
My family was never like this.
In my family, everything comes with strings attached. Every conversation is a negotiation. Every relationship is a transaction.
Even my sister was collateral. A bargaining chip to be traded.
I promised my mother on her deathbed that Katerina would be safe.
Scottie carries most of that weight now, but I’ll never stop watching. Never stop listening. Never stop being ready to step in if I have to again. That centerfold was a reminder to my father that he has no control over us anymore, and the message was loud and clear.
The locker room noise swells again, pulling me back.
I finish dressing quickly, sling my duffel over my shoulder, and head for the door. Always the first in, always the first out.
Cold air slams into me the moment I step outside the arena. It bites at my lungs, a welcome contrast to the stale heat inside. I take a deep breath as I cross the parking lot, sneakers crunching against the ice and asphalt of the players' lot.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I don’t look at it.
Then it buzzes again.
And again.
"Jesus," I mutter, reaching for my phone and answering as I reach my car. "What?"
"You don’t get to say ‘what’," Randolph snaps immediately. "You’ve blown off two PR teams in three weeks."
I unlock the truck and toss my bag into the back before sliding in. "I didn’t ask for them."
"They were there to help you, Luka."
"I didn’t need help," I say, sliding into the truck and slamming the door closed beside me.
"The Olympic Committee disagrees."
"It’s done. There’s nothing more I can do about the magazine publishing the images now," I say.
"There’s nothing you can do about it now? That’s all you’re going to say? You know better than anyone that using those medals without prior consent was going to get you in deep water with them," Randolph huffs back. "They’re furious."
Of course they are, and I understand why.
"They’re saying it’s a violation," he continues.
"It’s just a threat as of now," I say, hitting the push-start button. My engine roars to life under the hood, though it’s not quite loud enough to drown out the sound of my agent’s voice… unfortunately.
"Luka… it was an unauthorized use of Olympic property… You know the rules. They’re threatening fines. Sanctions." His voice continues to escalate, like it usually does, the more I pretend that it’s not a big deal, but the thing is, there’s nothing I can do about it.
"They haven’t enforced anything yet," I say.
"That’s not the point."
"It is to my lawyer," I tell him.
Silence stretches across the line.
"You talked to a lawyer?" he asks carefully.
