Page 53 of Pucking Only

I try to muster a smile as she enters the living room, but it probably looks more like a grimace.

“Hey, you,” Grace says, but when her eyes land on me, her expression shifts from cheerful to concerned in a heartbeat. Her brows dip into a frown. “Whoa, what happened?”

“What do you mean?” I furrow my brow and shake my head. “Nothing happened.”

She folds her arms and pops her hip to the side as she scoffs. “Sky, I know you and I know when you’ve spent hours scrunching your face, which you do when you’re upset. You’ve got lines across your forehead and around your eyes. Don’t try to fool me. Spill.”

I let out a heavy sigh, slumping back in my chair. Sometimes it’s not always so great having a best friend who knows me inside and out.

“I had a call with Mr. Ferguson a little bit ago.”

Grace frowns and walks over to sit on the back of the couch, facing me. “What did he say?”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration boiling up again as I recount the conversation. “He’s got this ridiculous critique about the goal celebrations in the game. Says they’re ‘too flashy’ and wants me to tone them down. It’s such a stupid, pointless thing to focus on, but he’s acting like it’s a major issue.”

Grace wrinkles her nose. “Too flashy? That’s the whole point! It’s hockey. What’s a goal without some over-the-top celebration?”

“Exactly!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. “But hedoesn’t get it. He just doesn’t see how important those little details are. It’s like he wants to suck the life out of the game.”

Grace shakes her head in disbelief. “Why do you work so hard for these people, Skyler? They clearly don’t appreciate what you do.”

I drop my gaze back to my laptop and stare at the screen, unable to meet her gaze at that moment. She doesn’t understand. It’s not just Ferguson… it’s the industry and the fact that it all but encourages him in his treatment of me. If I leftCode Kickers, the chances of ending up in a similar situation are high. And if I tried to venture out on my own, I’d just have to deal with clients who would also demand things of me, sometimes reasonable, and sometimes nitpicky.

That’s why I can’t quit. I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am, and leaving would mean starting all over again. The mere thought makes my stomach twist.

“It’s not like that,” I say, though my voice sounds a little hollow, even to me. “Once I finish this game, everything will be different. They’ll see what I’m capable of. They will.”

Grace gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure about that? Because it sounds like you’re counting on them to suddenly change how they see you, and that’s a dangerous gamble.”

I bite my lip, her words sinking in. Deep down, I know that nothing will change, not really. I’ll still be overlooked and undervalued no matter how great the game turns out simply because I’m a woman, but the alternative — admitting that all this hard work might not lead to anything — is too painful to consider.

"Skyler, you know you’re talented enough to venture out on your own," Grace insists, her voice gentle but firm. "You could get hired anywhere, or even start your own thing. Why keep putting up with this?"

I shake my head, a wave of frustration washing over me. “I’ve always wanted this job, Grace. With this company. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed about working here, being part of something big. I’m not just going to walk away because things get tough. Besides, leaving wouldn’t guarantee I’m not treated just like this anywhere else. It would only guarantee that I’d have to work my ass off all over again to get anywhere close to where I’m at withCode Kickers.”

Grace lets out a sigh. “It’s not giving up, Sky. It’s valuing yourself. You deserve better than what they’re giving you. Why can’t you see that?”

Her words strike a nerve, and I can feel my control slipping. “You don’t understand, Grace,” I snap, the words coming out sharper than I intend. “You’ve never had to fight for everything in your career. You don’t know what it’s like to want something so badly and have to prove yourself over and over again just to get a foot in the door.”

Grace flinches, hurt flashing across her face, but I’m too wound up to stop. “You didn’t have to fight for your job,” I say. “Carson handed it to you on a silver platter.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. The look on Grace’s face changes from hurt to something darker — betrayal, maybe. I see her jaw tighten, and she takes a step back, distancing herself from me.

“Wow, Skyler really?” she says quietly, her voice shaking slightly. “After everything I've done for you, you can say that to me? Carson may have offered me a great opportunity, but I still wouldn't have gotten anywhere if I hadn't worked my butt off to make something of it. And you know I have clients other than Carson. I know you're hurting and frustrated. I hear you. I just want my best friend to see the value in herself that everyone else does. You're amazing Skyler, please don't ever forget that."

I open my mouth to apologize, to say something, anything,to fix this, but the words stick in my throat. Before I can find my voice, Grace turns on her heel and walks toward the door.

“Grace, wait — ” I start, but she’s already gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

The silence that follows is deafening. I stand there, staring at the closed door, guilt twisting in my stomach. I shouldn’t have said that. Grace has always been in my corner, always supported me. I just threw it back in her face because I couldn’t handle the truth.

I drop my elbows onto the desk and bury my face in my hands. The anger that fueled my outburst drains away, leaving only regret. What’s wrong with me? Why did I lash out at Grace when she was only trying to help? I wish I could rewind the last few minutes, take back those cruel words, and tell Grace how much I appreciate her. But it’s too late for that now. All I can do is sit here, stew in my own guilt, and hope that Grace will forgive me.

But even as I hope, a part of me wonders if I’ve done irreparable damage. This isn’t just about one argument — it’s about all the frustration, all the pressure I’ve been feeling for months. I’m letting it get the best of me, hurting the person who means the most to me in the process.

I glance at my laptop, the work I’ve been pouring my heart into suddenly feeling insignificant. I thought finishing this game would make everything better. Now, I’m not so sure. What if Grace is right? What if I’ve been fighting so hard for something that isn’t worth the cost?

The thought of walking away from my dream feels like giving up. I’ve worked too hard to quit now. Yet the cost of that determination might be higher than I’m willing to pay. I’m left wondering if I’m fighting for the right reasons or just clinging to a version of myself that I’ve outgrown.

---