Page 11 of Power Pucking Play

"What's up?"

"I've changed my mind," I say, my voice hard. "I'm not doing the feature."

There's a pause on the other end. "What? Why?"

"Because I said so." I run a hand through my damp hair, frustration building. "Find someone else to be Lexi's poster boy."

"Gio, we've been over this. There is no one else. The team needs this, you need this."

"What I need," I cut her off, "is to focus on hockey. Not tap-dance for the media like some trained monkey."

"Hey, monkeys are pretty smart. Those Planet of the Ape movies proved it." Gabi's tone is light, but I can hear the worry underneath her words. "Listen, I know this isn't easy for you. But trust me, it'll be worth it. And if this is because of Lexi…"

"This has nothing to do with Lexi," I lie, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I'm just not interested."

"You can't just back out, Gio. We have a contract."

I snort. "A contract I never signed. Face it, sis. It's not happening."

I hang up, cutting off her protests. My phone immediately starts buzzing again, but I ignore it, tossing it into my bag.

As I finish getting dressed, I try to ignore the nagging voice in my head. The one that sounds suspiciously like Nonna, telling me I'm making a mistake.

But I can't do it. I can't spend weeks pretending that night with Lexi never happened. Can't trust myself to keep my distance when she's so close.

It's better this way. For everyone.

I zip up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. As I head for the exit, I pause, looking back at the empty rink.

This is who I am. This is what I know. Everything else? It's just noise.

And I've got no time for distractions. Not when my spot on the team is on the line.

I push through the doors, stepping out into the cool Chicago night. Tomorrow, I'll deal with the fallout—the angry calls from management and the disappointed looks from Gabi.

But tonight? Tonight, I'm going to find the nearest bar and do my best to forget Lexi Brookes ever existed.

Even if it's only for a few hours.

Chapter 4

Lexi

The Chicago Blades' practice facility looms before me, a behemoth of steel and glass glinting in the early morning sun. I take a deep breath, straightening my blazer and clutching my notepad like a shield.

"You've got this, Brookes," I mutter to myself, pushing through the doors.

The cool air inside hits me, along with the familiar scent of ice and sweat. I nod to the receptionist, flashing my press pass.

"I'm here to see Jackass De…" I cough. "I'm sorry. I meant Giovanni De Luca," I say.

She eyes me skeptically. "Mr. De Luca doesn't usually see reporters during practice hours."

I lean in, lowering my voice. "I'm not just any reporter. I'm here on behalf ofSports News Nowfor an exclusive feature."

The receptionist hesitates, then nods, gesturing toward the rink.

As I push open the doors to the rink, I'm hit with a blast of cold air and the sight of Gio, graceful and powerful, as he glides across the ice.

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