Page 29 of Power Pucking Play

I know he's right. I've been in this game long enough to know that trades happen all the time and players are just commodities. But it still stings knowing that I could be shipped off at any moment.

"I'll do better," I say.

"You'd better. It's not just me you're letting down." He gestures in the air. "It's your teammates. Your fans. The whole org. I may give a shit, but those higher up, they'll drop you in an instant if you don't start producing."

For a second, Lexi's face flashes in my mind.

The disappointment. The disbelief.

I know she doesn't understand why I play this game. Why I put my body through so much pain and punishment for a silly puck and stick.

But to me, it's more than just a game. It's my escape. My way of proving myself to the world, to those who never believed in me. It's everything to me. My lifeline.

At last, I nod at Coach, feeling about two inches tall. My jaw clenches, my mouth bone dry. "I'm working on making things right as we speak.

"You better." Coach straightens and gives me a hard look. "Now, hit the showers. And ice that eye. You look like hell."

As I turn to leave, he calls out.

"Oh, and De Luca?"

"Yeah, Coach?"

"That reporter of yours is waiting outside. Try not to give her any more ammunition, all right?"

Shit. Just what I need.

I step out of the office to find Lexi leaning against the wall, notepad in hand. Ever the sports journalist, always on the hunt for a good story.

Her golden-green eyes widen slightly when she sees my face.

"Jesus, De Luca," she breathes.

"Nice to see you too, Brookes."

"You look like you went ten rounds with a meat grinder."

I force a smirk, ignoring the way it pulls at my split lip. "You should see the other guy."

She doesn't laugh. Instead, she just looks...tired. "What happened out there, Gio?"

I bristle at her tone. "What, are you my shrink now? I thought you were here to document the 'bad boy of hockey', not psychoanalyze me."

Lexi's eyes narrow. "I'm trying to understand, you jackass. One minute, you're Mr. Nice Guy with that kid, and the next you're starting brawls on the ice. Which is the real you?"

For a moment, I'm tempted to tell her the truth. To explain about the pressure, the expectations, the constant battle between who I am and who everyone wants me to be.

Instead, I just shrug. "Guess you'll have to keep digging to find out, Brookes."

As I brush past her toward the locker room, I can feel her eyes on me. But I don't look back.

I can't afford to let her see any more of the real me than she already has.

Chapter 10

Lexi

The press room is a zoo, and I'm caught somewhere between being the zookeeper and one of the animals. Cameras flash, recorders beep, and the air is thick with the scent of desperation and cheap cologne.

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