"We can head over after practice. I'll show you around the neighborhood. There's a great coffee place, Lavender's, about three blocks from us. They do a lesbian night on Fridays that's apparently the social event of the season around here."
Lex's grin widened. She leaned against a cable machine, arms crossed. "This city has a lesbian night at a coffee shop?" Lex shook her head, smiling. "I already like it."
Camille laughed. "Phoenix Ridge takes care of its own. You'll see."
They chatted for a few more minutes. Lou asked about her ice hockey background, Lex kept it brief: skating as a kid, some pickup games through the years, fourteen months of intensive training since leaving the federation. She'd spent the first ten months at a private hockey academy in Minnesota before signing with the Valkyries. Camille asked what it was likeswitching sports at this level. Lex shrugged. "Ask me in a month. Right now it's equal parts terrifying and addictive."
Lou checked the time on the gym clock. "Coach wants to see you before practice. I'll take you to her office."
Lex grabbed her duffel. The corridor to the coaching offices was narrow and cold, the concrete walls lined with whiteboards covered in play diagrams and practice schedules. Lou stopped outside a door markedM. Ellison — Head Coachand knocked twice.
"Come in."
Lou pushed the door open and stepped aside. "Lex Landry, Coach."
Lex walked in.
The office was small and cluttered. Bookshelves packed with coaching manuals and game film binders. A desk buried under papers, a laptop, and a coffee mug with the Valkyries logo. Tactical boards on every wall, covered in magnetic pieces and dry-erase arrows. It smelled like coffee, cut with the faint pine of an air freshener that was losing the battle against the old-building mustiness.
And behind the desk, standing to greet her, was Mara Ellison.
Lex's first thought was that the photos online didn't do her justice. Mara was tall, broad-shouldered, athletic even in her late forties, with the kind of build that came from decades of serious physical commitment. Her blonde hair, threaded with grey, was pulled back in a tight ponytail that accentuated a strong jawline and sharp blue eyes. She wore a dark coaching jacket zipped to the collar, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms that looked like they'd spent years gripping sticks and rink boards. Everything about her projected authority, the kind worn into the bones rather than performed.
Oh no.She knew this feeling. She'd been drawn to exactly this type her entire adult life: older women with sharp edges and complicated interiors. The ones who looked like they'd break you if you got too close but might be worth the damage. It had never ended well, and here she was, her very first minute in the office, looking at the one person she absolutely could not want.
A golden retriever emerged from behind the desk and bounded toward Lex with its whole body wagging. Lex dropped to one knee immediately, letting the dog push into her, tail thumping against her leg.
"Hey, gorgeous. Oh, look at you." She rubbed the dog's ears and neck, letting it lick her chin. The fur was soft and warm under her fingers, and the dog's enthusiastic joy was the perfect antidote to the tension building in her chest.
"That's Goldie," Mara said. Her voice was measured, formal. The voice of a woman who was not going to make this easy. She stood behind her desk with her arms folded, watching Lex on the floor with her dog.
"She's perfect." Lex looked up from the dog. Mara's expression was carefully neutral, but a reaction moved behind those blue eyes. Surprise, maybe, at Lex's softness with the dog. Or wariness. Probably wariness.
"Have a seat."
Lex sat. Goldie settled beside her chair, pressing against her leg. Mara remained standing for a moment, looking down at her with an expression Lex couldn't read, then sat behind her desk.
"Welcome to the Valkyries. I'll be direct with you because that's how I operate. This team runs on discipline and systems. Every player buys in or they sit. No exceptions. Your reputation suggests you have a problem with authority."
"My reputation suggests a lot of things."
"I don't deal in suggestions. I deal in what I see on the ice." Mara's eyes were steady, unblinking. "You're talented. Astoriashowed me the testing footage. But talent without structure is chaos, and I don't tolerate chaos in my rink."
Lex held her gaze. The warm thing in her stomach was getting worse. Mara's intensity was magnetic, a focused energy that made Lex want to push back just to see what happened. She clasped her hands in her lap and kept her face neutral.
"I'm here to play hockey. That's all."
"Good. Because you have a lot of work ahead of you. Field hockey skills don't transfer one-to-one. Your skating needs refinement. Your positioning is raw. You'll need extra one-on-one sessions with me outside of regular practice to get your fundamentals up to standard."
Lex bristled. The words stung like a dismissal of everything she'd ever accomplished, every title, every championship, every record. Just because she was good at one sport didn't mean she'd be good at this one. That was what Mara was saying without saying it.
Watch me.
"I'll be there," Lex said. "Every session."
"I know you will. Because if you're not, you don't play."
They looked at each other. The office was quiet except for the hum of the fluorescent lights and Goldie's steady breathing. Lex could smell Mara's coffee and beneath it a scent clean and faintly sharp, like soap or the lingering cold of ice. The distance between them was the width of a desk and it felt much smaller. Lex had a sudden, vivid awareness of Mara's hands resting flat on the desk's surface: strong, unringed, nails trimmed short.
