Sure. Everything okay?
Wesley
Can you meet me at Beaverton Beans? I’m in the loft.
Griffin
OMW
I spent the next ten minutes refreshing Boucher’s post, watching the reposts and replies multiply. Colorado fans were eating it up, Portland fans were getting defensive, and hockey media accounts were already posting screenshots for their own content. The situation was snowballing exactly the way these things always did in the social media age.
My mind was already three moves ahead, calculating angles and spinning possibilities. We could ignore it completely and let it die down. We could craft a clever comeback that put Boucher in his place. We could take the high road and use it as motivation. Or we could?—
“Am I in trouble?”
Griffin’s voice cut through my strategic spiral. He stood at the top of the stairs, tall and solid in dark jeans and a gray T-shirt that made his ice-blue eyes even more striking. His buzz cut was slightly damp, like he’d just showered after a workout, and he carried a large cold brew that looked tiny in his hand.
Despite the crisis, a flutter of attraction I’d been trying to ignore since we’d met skittered through my stomach. Griffin Lapierre was objectively sexy—the kind of classically handsome that looked effortless. And those eyes… focus, Wesley. Griffin was straight. And my colleague.
“Sit down, please.” I gestured to the chair across from me. “And no, you’re not in trouble. But we have a situation.”
He settled into the chair with fluid athletic grace despite his size and bulging muscles, all controlled power and easy confidence. “What’s up?”
I turned my phone around and slid it across the small table. “Cory Boucher decided to take a shot at you on social media.”
Griffin picked up the phone, and I monitored his expression carefully as he read. For just a moment, his composure slipped. I caught a flash of hurt, sharp and real, before his features smoothed back into neutral professionalism. But I’d seen it, that wounded look that made something protective flare in my chest.
This wasn’t just about PR anymore. Griffin didn’t deserve this cheap-shot bullshit from his former teammate.
“Classy,” Griffin said finally, and set the phone back down. His tone was carefully controlled, but I could hear the edge underneath.
“I’m going to make sure you come out on top of this.” I surprised myself with the intensity of my voice. “Boucher just made a tactical error, and we’re going to use it to our advantage.”
Something flickered in Griffin’s eyes—surprise, maybe, or gratitude. “Okay. What do we do?”
“How well did you know Boucher? Were you two close?”
Griffin leaned back in his chair and sipped his cold brew. “He was my alternate captain for two years. I thought we were friends, or at least teammates who respected each other. We went to dinner sometimes, grabbed drinks after winning. I recommended him for the A when the previous alternate retired.”
The hurt was there again, carefully buried but audible to someone who knew how to listen. I tried to consider Boucher’s perspective—maybe he was trying to establish his own leadership by tearing down Griffin’s reputation. But it was unprofessional as hell.
“Is there any chance this could be good-natured ribbing?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.
Griffin shook his head, his expression grim. “If Boucher wanted to chirp me, he’d send a text or call me directly. That’s how we’ve always handled things between us. This…” He gestured at the phone. “This is for public consumption. He wants everyone to see him taking me down a peg.”
“Is this typical behavior for him, or is he trying to prove something as the new captain?”
“Boucher’s always been competitive,” Griffin said slowly. “On the ice, in practice, in poker games. But this feels different. More personal.” He gestured at my phone. “He’s not joking around here.”
I nodded, making mental notes. “How do you think the rest of your former team will react? Are they going to pile on, or will they stay quiet?”
Griffin was quiet for a long moment, staring into his cold brew. “It’ll be a mix. Some guys will support Boucher—he’s their captain now, and team loyalty runs deep. Others willthink he crossed a line. But most will probably stay out of it publicly and let us handle our own business.”
“Smart,” I said. “I think Boucher went rogue on this one. Based on what you know about Colorado’s PR team, will they rein him in?” I wasn’t familiar with their PR manager.
“If they were going to stop him, they would have prevented the post in the first place,” Griffin said. “Their media team is good—they know how to manage their players’ social media when they want to. This either slipped through the cracks, or they’re okay with it.”
I was already calculating probabilities and responses. “Should we expect more of these kinds of posts?”
