Page 57 of Fated Shot

Finalize Next Week’s Recipes

Ad Campaign Planning

Figure out how to increase capacity!!!

If I’m going to take this seriously, I need more space. Too bad even shared kitchen prices in Toronto are astronomical. Every available surface area in my apartment is taken over on baking days. I can’t keep going like this, especially if I want to grow. The first step is trusting that I can actually do this and taking the risk to investin myself.

Cordelia would have wanted me to do this. I feel the same peace Cordelia always did while she was baking. I love the creativity of discovering new recipes and creating tangible items that bring comfort and joy. Even if honoring Cordelia and everything she taught me urges me forward every day, turning a passion into your profession is easier said than done.

I spend the rest of my morning blasting Taylor Swift and frilling about the apartment crossing tasks off. I’m halfway through my to-do list by the time the notification comes in that I’m fully sold out.

I can do this.

Chapter 23

Jack

After a quick morning skate, I march back into the locker room, dropping down to my stall. I’m feeling good, great even. It’s been a crazy mentality shift. I’m used to putting my head down, grinding game after game, doing whatever I need to get to retirement in one piece. For once, though, I feel invincible.

Mia’s coming tonight, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t playing a massive part in my newfound positivity. She’s going to be watching. The thought is literally putting a pep in my step like I’m a kindergartener with a school-yard crush, but fuck it, I don’t care.

“Brody,” a voice booms from the entrance. I look up from my skates to see a stern-looking Coach Cameron staring at me, arms crossed. Oh shittt.

“Coach?” I’m trying my best to maintain my composure despite my heart rate’s growing speed. He’s an intimidating man and one that I respect deeply. I can’t read his expression; he looks serious—or anxious, maybe? He’s usually so stoic that I have no clue what any of his facial features mean.

Overthinking is not my specialty.Just wait for what he says. You haven’t done anything wrong.What the fuck am I talking about? I have done something wrong.

Does he know?

How would he know?

He can’t know.

Fuck, I’m going to pass out.Jack, fucking breathe.

Doug Cameron took a chance on me. He was the one who offered me the first sense of permanence I’ve felt in a while. He’s a good coach and how do I repay that? By sleeping with his daughter the first chance I get. FUCK.

“A word.” It’s not a question; it's an order.

I nod, standing from my stall to follow him out. We walk in silence, me trailing like a puppy about to get reprimanded. It feels like I’m headed to the gallows, not his neatly kept, expertly designed office.

He holds the door open for me, but as soon as I walk in, he closes it behind us.That’s new.

“Have a seat, Brody.”

I silently oblige, lowering myself into the firm leather armchair facing his desk. I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever had to sit here with him. Sure, I’d pop my head in for a bit, or we’d chat plays standing up. But never have I sat across from this man or had a conversation with him that necessitated the door closed. It’s getting more challenging to breathe by the second.

Coach walks over, leaning to rest on the edge of the desk, arms crossed, staring down at me. This. Is. It.

“It’s going to be a tough one tonight. We know the Knights; they will do whatever it takes to get under our skin.”

We’re talking about hockey? Every inch of my body preparing for impact relaxes as I let out a relieved breath. I’m able to try to listen more intently as I nod. The Knights have some sort of vendetta against us. They’re mad at their ‘traitorous’ coach for moving on despite performing pitifully and doing nothing to show Doug Cameron’s incredible coaching abilities. Their team is full of shit disturbers this year, and everyone knows it.

My body has calmed enough that I’m able to catch the end of his speech. “If the time comes, can I count on you to unite the boys?” AKA, be ready to drop the gloves tonight. The relief Ifeel right now cannot be accurately put into words. Can he count on me to defend my team, energize the boys, and show our strength?

“That’s my job, Coach,” I reply without an ounce of doubt in my mind.

He nods with a quick smile. “Good.” Walking back to the front of the room, he opens the door.

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