Page 25 of Wrong Score

The sound of my skates scraping against the ice fills the quiet rink as I take another shot. The puck slams into the back of the net with a satisfying thud.

Practice ended over an hour ago but after the team all left I couldn't sit still in my office.

The weight of everything.

The team, the season, my family wanting me to finish out my contract next season and come home… and the unsettled conversation constantly going around in my head about her. It all feels especially heavy today, like a puck lodged in my chest that I can’t shake off.

Rowan Summers.

It’s maddening how she’s managed to get under my skin. Every time I think I’ve got her figured out, she goes and does something else that sets me off. My head’s a mess, and I’ve been avoiding her, focusing on the one thing that’s always made sense to me—hockey.

Another slap shot, another echo through the empty rink. It’s not enough.

“Looks like you’re trying to murder that puck,” Sam’s voice calls out from the bench.

I glance over, seeing him leaning casually against the boards. He’s wearing his usual black Hawkeyes windbreaker, and a pair of trousers.

“Need to work out some frustration,” I grunt, sending another puck flying toward the goal.

Sam watches for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly before he speaks. “She’s got you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”

I pause, resting the stick against my knees, breathing hard. “It’s not just her. It’s the team. The season. Everything’s on the line.”

Sam steps onto the ice, his movements steady and deliberate, each stride gripping the slick surface with the confidence of years spent navigating it. “I get it. But you’re not just angry at her, Bex. You’re angry at yourself, too.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What’re you on about?”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I see it in you. The way you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Hockey is everything to you, just like it was to me. And we both know that it costs us more than we care to admit.”

His words hang in the cold air between us, and I know exactly what he’s referring to. Sam’s ex-wife left him when she felt that hockey was the real love of his life, not her. They couldn’t make it work, and though Sam doesn’t say much about her, I know he’s never moved on.

“It wasn’t the same for me and Lily,” I say, shooting another puck into the net, the sound more hollow this time. “I cared about her, but I didn’t love her like she deserved. I broke her heart because I couldn’t love her more than the game.”

Sam nods, his eyes distant. “And that’s where we’re different. I still love my ex-wife, always will. But that didn’t make a damn difference when it came down to choosing between her and the game. Hockey… it consumes you. But I know I made the wrong decision. I should have picked her. I should have given Penelope the childhood she deserved."

"But Penelope turned out brilliant. She seems happy. You managed it alright," I say.

"Maybe, but hockey never made me whole. When Caroline refused to move to Seattle, I should have made a better choice and kept my family together."

I grip my stick tighter, the tension in my chest not letting up. “Do you regret it?”

“Every day,” Sam admits, his voice quieter now. “And if I could do it over, I don't know what I would do. Being on this side of things, it’s easy to say that I might have made the wrong choice, now that my skating days are over, but had I done it before I accomplished everything I wanted to in the sport… I might have resented letting my window close on my career. That’s the thing, Bex. The game—it’s always going to demand more from you than anyone else ever will. The question is, how much are you willing to give and when is it time to move on?”

I look down at the ice, the question echoing in my mind. How much more can I give before there’s nothing left?

"How much are you willing to give it?" I ask.

"I've given the sport more than its fair share. Now it's time to give Caroline back the time I took from us."

Did he just say what I thought he did?

"You're getting back together with your ex-wife?"

A lopsided grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. "It's a little too early to tell, but I'm going to spend the off-season back home trying to convince her to take me back." He chuckles. "I promised Phil that I'd give him one more year to make sure that Penelope is ready to take my place. She's going to need a strong head coach by her side, which is why I'm curious how many more years you're willing to give this franchise."

Before I can answer, Sam’s gaze shifts, and he gestures toward the players' tunnel. “Looks like you’ve got company."

I follow his line of sight and see Rowan standing there in a pair of skates and a smart black dress that stops at her calves, designed for the office and not for a skating rink. At the very least, she's wearing some puffy jacket that looks like Penelope's. The skates look like Penelope’s too. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rowan skating out here was the new Assistant GM’s idea.

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