Page 19 of Holiday Hostilities

Well. At leastthatquestion was somewhat hockey related.

I blink at the man, trying not to look too much like a deer in headlights. Well, a big, handsome, suit-clad buck in headlights, because details are important. Paying attention to details keeps you prepared for anything.

And right now, I’m a sitting duck—buck—because I have clearly missed some detail that’s resulted in me having no idea what on earth these reporters are referring to.

Unprepared and caught off guard. Two things a captain should never be.

I subtly curl my hand and run my fingers over the bracelet on my wrist, letting them move over the soft leather as my jaw tightens almost defiantly. “No idea. But I’d say we have a good chance of beating the Iguanas, especially with the way our defense is able to handle Talbot. He’s a great player, but he’s no match for Griz and Cooper.”

“Still,” Sadie presses, that glint in her eyes shining particularly evilly. “This isn’t a good look for you.”

“What isn’t?” I finally ask, my jaw tight.

“You know. The cockroach that was named after you being fed to an iguana earlier today. Doesn’t exactly sound like there’s tons of confidence in your future as captain.” She goes on to smirk. “Is it true that Coach Torres is considering naming Sebastian Slater interim captain until the heat dies down on this story?”

My nostrils flare, my cool expression slipping.

“No,” I respond firmly.

Next to me, Seb opens his mouth, but I give him a little shake of my head. Slater jumping in to confirm my response will just make it look like we’re denying something. Or worse, make me look incompetent.

When Mal retired a few months back, there was a standing ovation from the media at his post-game press conference. He was brilliant, both as a player and as a leader. Commanded the respect of his team and motivated them through every situation. Never had a single scandal or caused a single scene.

I want nothing more than to follow in his footsteps. Be respected as both a leader and a man, rather than being pegged as some loser playboy who can’t keep his personal life in check.

So whatever this cockroach story is all about—and whatever it might or might not have to do with someone from Aaron’s Army—I have to crush it. Right here and now.

“Hockey,” I repeat, locking eyes with Sadie Something-or-Other. “We are here to talk about this afternoon’s hockey game.”

Well, Seb and I are here to talk about the hockey game.

Everyone else has clearly lost their damned minds.

7

AARON

“That was… weird,” Seb mutters when we finally escape the media circus and are walking the hallway that leads to the locker room.

“That’s one word for it,” I reply with a chuckle, feeling lighter now that I’m not standing in front of a bunch of cameras with my mouth gaping open like a lizard catching flies.

Or cockroaches, apparently.

“Any idea what they were talking about?” my teammate asks, a bemused expression on his face that exactly mirrors how I feel.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “But whatever it was, it sounds made up.”

Now that I’m away from the barrage of questions, my head feels clearer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still entirely baffled, but I know for a fact that I haven’t done anything “extracurricular” lately that might call my character into question, either on or off the ice.

I’m sure it’s nothing.

Although thatinterim captainquestion was a little rattling.

Seb puts a hand on the locker room door, then shrugs at me. “Let’s just forget about it for now and focus on the game.”

I nod firmly. “Absolutely.”

He pushes open the door and?—

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