Page 28 of Wrong Score

She says it with a touch of humor. I pause, watching her for a moment longer.

“You can try again,” I say, gesturing toward the ice. “But be sure you’re ready next time. I won’t go easy on you.”

Rowan’s eyes sparkle with the challenge, her confidence returning. “Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything less, Coach.”

I pull the stick back, sliding another puck into position for myself. As I line up my next shot, I glance over at her, standing there on the ice, wobbling but determined. She may have missed the shot, but she’s far from defeated. There’s something resilient in her, and despite everything, I’m starting to see that.

I take the shot, the puck sailing cleanly into the net with a loud thud. Rowan doesn’t flinch this time, and that makes me grin. She’s learning.

As I skate over to her and extend my hand to help her back to the player's tunnel.

Do I trust her enough for a truce?

No, not yet. I can’t afford that. Not with everything at stake.

I still don’t have an answer for the hallway whisperings and concerned looks shared between Reeve and Rowan.

"Thanks for helping me back. I need to get going. I'm meeting Tessa and Brynn for dress shopping for the gala."

I nod, releasing her hand as she steps off the ice. For now, the truce may be off, but something tells me this isn’t the last time we’ll be standing here, facing off on my turf.

Chapter Ten

Rowan

The bell above the boutique door jingles as I enter the gorgeous French inspired boutique dress shop located outside of the city. This is where Tessa, Brynn and Cammy told me to meet them to try on gowns for the gala.

Tessa is already leaning against the mirror, rubbing her pregnant belly, focused on her screen. She's probably checking the Hawkeyes' social media account as she usually does throughout the day to respond to fans and questions on posts about game schedules and where to buy tickets online. She glances up and grins as soon as she spots me.

“Finally, you’re here! We were about to send a search party for you. Brynn’s in the back trying on half the store,” she greets, her voice her usual teasing tone, her hand still absentmindedly tracing circles over her belly.

The sight stirs something in me I wasn’t expecting—a pang that settles somewhere between my chest and my gut. It’s not jealousy—more wistful, and quiet yearning that sneaks up on me.

I force a smile back at her, not wanting her to see it in my eyes and feel sorry for me, but my mind wanders for a fleeting second. Isla just had her baby a little while back, and now Tessa is due at the end of the season. The thought catches me off guard, my imagination leaping ahead of me.

What would it feel like to be a part of this group, not just as the reporter they’ve accepted into their inner circle, but as someone sharing the journey of building a family? To have a little life growing inside me and get to raise that baby surrounded by this tight-knit, loving community of women who seem to rally around each other no matter what?

But then the weight of reality crashes in, reminding me why that thought is so dangerous. Being this close to them—to their lives and their families, is already a conflict of interest. As a reporter, my job is to stay impartial, not to dream about what it would feel like to belong in their world.

I hear Brynn's muffled voice behind one of the changing room doors, breaking me from thoughts. "And Tessa only tried on one dress and bought it instantly so she could keep working. She's no fun. I need someone to try stuff on with or I'm going to start feeling self-conscious for grabbing so many gowns."

“I’m pregnant, it doesn’t exactly lend to a closet full of couture. But I got lucky and found something that fits,” she says, pointing to a long plastic dress bag hanging by the register.

"The Hawkeyes' social media account has been blowing up from the pictures I've been posting of Juliet and Shawnie's decorations for the gala that just started going up around the stadium. Fans are hitting up the comment section asking for last-minute tickets to the gala or to find out if players will be available for autographs at some point that night. And besides, I already know what looks good on me; I'm an easy shopper… so sue me." Tessa teases, saying the last part loud enough to make sure Brynn can hear it.

"I would if I could," Brynn mutters.

I laugh, stepping fully into the boutique, hoping that girl talk will chase away my disappointment at my failed attempt at a truce with Bex. “Sorry, traffic was a nightmare, but I'm here, and I'm ready to shop," I say, pulling off my jacket and laying it down on the kind of chair I would imagine Marie Antoinette probably had in her salon. "Where's Cammy?"

"She just texted. She's running late from a study session but she's on her way," Tessa says, looking down at her phone as she types something up and hits send. "But wait, what's this about traffic? I thought you lived only a few minutes away from here.”

Unlike most everyone on the team who either live downtown Seattle or live in the wealthy gated community nearby, I live in a studio apartment further out of town. Being a journalist pays the bills, but not the kind of bills that allow city living without the need for a roommate to share the expenses. It's fine with me. The city can feel suffocating at times anyway, and since I work out of the office most days, I only have to commute to work when there's a game I need to be in the press box for or a staff meeting atThe Seattle Sunrise.

"Yes, I do live close by, but I came from the stadium," I tell her.

Tessa shoots me an inquisitive look, but before she can dive into her question, a tall woman with a name tag and shiny jet-black hair pulled up in a tight bun makes her way toward me, sporting a smile that says she plans on making a commission today.

"Hi, you must be Rowan."

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