Page 44 of Wrong Score

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, but I know there’s truth to her words. “Alright, alright. So, maybe there’s… something there. But whatever it is, it’s complicated.”

Keely squeezes my hand. “Complicated or not, we’re here for you. Whether it’s just a fling or something more, you deserve happiness, Ro.”

I smile, feeling a bit of the tension ease as the girls dive back into their usual banter, swapping stories, and making plans for who’s apartment they’ll watch all of the out-of-town games at, and who’s bringing what snacks. But in the back of my mind, I can’t shake the image of Bex in that limo—the warmth of his hands, the steady, unflinching look in his eyes as he took care of me.

Tomorrow, I’ll go down to his office and clear the air. If there’s something between us, I need to know.

Chapter Fourteen

Rowan

Walking through the small waiting area of Sam’s office, I notice that Cammy isn’t at her desk. She’s probably out to lunch, but she’s not the reason for my visit.

I don’t have a scheduled appointment with Sam, but with Charles on my case, and a hunch on a lead that might distract my boss away from Bex, I walk up to Sam’s closed office door and rap my knuckles against the solid wood door.

I hear the sound of Sam pushing out of his rolling office chair and then the sound of his heavy footsteps coming closer to the door.

The moment the door opens, I’m greeted with a warm smile. “Rowan. What brings you to my office? Come in,” he offers, leaving the door open for me to walk through.

I take a deep breath, clutching my notebook a little tighter than necessary, and then close the door behind me. What I have to ask is private in nature. I don’t know if anyone else in the franchise has caught on to some of the hints I’ve noticed and with gossip the way it is around here, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the spread of a rumor if it turns out not to be true.

“I was hoping to get a few minutes of your time. I need to interview you about your future plans.”

It’s a weak cover, but Sam’s too laid-back to call me out on it. His expression doesn’t change; if anything, his smile deepens as he waves me over to the chair opposite his desk. “My future plans? Is there something I should know about, or is this your way of subtly asking if I’m about to announce my retirement?”

I laugh, though it’s more out of nerves than amusement. “You know, just doing my job. People have been speculating for a while now. You’ve had a long successful career and with the Hawkeyes practically creating the Assistant GM position for Penelope, people are beginning to ask questions.”

Sam leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “People are always speculating. That’s what they do best, right?”

“True,” I admit, glancing down at my notepad and pen in my hand. “But if anyone could set the record straight, it’s you.”

Sam doesn’t immediately respond. He looks past me, out the window where the city’s skyline stretches against the horizon, his face softening. “I’ve been with the Hawkeyes for a long time— longer than I anticipated. First as a player and now as the GM. I’ve had a long career in the sport but I can’t do this forever. It’s time for new blood and with it, a new GM,” He pauses, meeting my eyes again.

“Penelope,” I say, knowing the answer.

He nods. “The grind wears on you after a while and it makes you start thinking about what comes next.”

There isn’t a sadness in his voice like what I thought I’d expect to find. He seems almost hopeful for this next chapter. And I think I might know why. It’s not because he’s looking forward to whatmightbe waiting on the other side of retirement—it’s because he already knowswhois waiting.

“I don’t want to push you into anything,” I say carefully. “If you’re not ready to make an official statement—”

Sam interrupts with a grin. “Relax, Rowan. I know you’re just doing your job. If anyone’s going to report on it, I’d rather it happen with someone I trust. And I’d like it to come out on my own terms—after we win the Stanley Cup. Next year will be my last season but Penelope will be stepping into a large role, and I think it’s time that the fans hear it from me,” His tone is easy, reassuring. “I don’t want to distract from the playoffs. Do I have your word that you won’t release the article until I give you the ‘okay’? And I want a chance to read it over before you send it out into the world, as has been our agreement thus far.”

A rush of gratitude fills me. “Of course. You’ll have final approval before anything goes live.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with that. “Good. Now how's traveling with the team? Is Bex treating you okay out there on the road? You can tell me if I need to have a word with him.”

His question pulls me back to the present, and for a moment, I forget about the article, about the potential headline. All I can think about is Bex. The memory of our night together flickers to life in my mind, and I feel a heat rising in my chest.

“No, he's been as welcoming as Bex knows how to be, I think,” I say, though my voice sounds distant to my own ears. “I think we've reached an understanding,” I lie, though I'll call it wishful thinking.

Sam tilts his head, eyeing me as if he knows I'm fibbing. “You'll let me know if he steps out of turn?”

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. How does he know?

“Of course, thank you Sam.”

He nods. “Bex and I aren't all that different if you'd believe it." he says.

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