Page 15 of They All Puck Me

I shrug. “Comes with the territory.”

She studies me for a moment, her green eyes piercing through my usual defenses. “Why did you invite me for coffee? You’re not exactly known for opening up to anyone, let alone the press.”

I chuckle, scratching my jawline as I consider my answer. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Her eyes widen slightly before she recovers with a smile. “Smooth, Makar.”

I grin back at her, feeling more at ease than I have in weeks. “I try.”

We continue talking about hockey, life in Minneapolis, and everything in between. The conversation flows effortlessly, and before I know it, an hour has passed.

“You know,” she says thoughtfully, stirring her coffee with a small spoon. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she replies with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’re actually kind of charming when you’re not barking orders on the ice.”

I laugh—a real laugh that feels like a release of all the tension I've been holding onto.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” I say warmly.

Her laughter rings out, a light, melodious sound that draws the attention of a few patrons. I can't help but smile. The way Olivia's eyes light up when she talks about her career goals is mesmerizing. I catch myself staring and quickly look away, pretending to be interested in my coffee.

"So," she says, leaning forward slightly, "what's next for the Wolves? Do you think you guys have a real shot at the Cup this year?"

I take a sip of my coffee, buying myself a moment to think. "We do. But it’s not going to be easy. We’ve got some tough teams ahead."

"What do you think sets this team apart?" she asks.

I lean back in my chair, considering her question. "It’s the chemistry," I say finally. "We’ve got a good mix of veterans and young guys. Everyone knows their role and plays it well."

"Even Ethan?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

I sigh. "He’s... getting there. He’s got the skills, no doubt about that. Just needs to find his place on the team."

She nods thoughtfully, jotting down notes. Her focus is intense, and I can’t help but admire her dedication.

Our conversation flows easily from topic to topic—family stories, favorite movies, even our mutual disdain for pineapple on pizza. Each time she laughs or smiles, I feel that same urge to reach across the table and take her hand but resist it every time.

“Alright,” she says after glancing at her watch. “I should probably get going before they lock me out of the press box.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” I agree reluctantly.

We step outside, and Olivia wraps her scarf around her neck, the evening chill nipping at us. I linger for a moment, not wanting this to end just yet.

"Thanks for the coffee," she says with a warm smile. "And the conversation. It was... refreshing."

"Anytime," I reply, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside me. "Good luck with your article."

She nods, turning to walk away. I watch her go, her auburn hair swaying with each step. My mind races—there’s a magnetic pull between us that I can’t ignore, but I also can’t afford distractions right now.

As she gets in her car, I feel a mix of attraction and unease. She gets me in a way few people do, and that scares me. I turn back toward the arena, my footsteps heavy with the weight of conflicting emotions.

I'm in the locker room, following the second half of practice. The guys are laughing, trading jokes, and reliving the best moments from today. I strip off my gear, muscles aching but satisfied. Noah’s already at his locker, toweling off his hair.

“Noah,” I call out, catching his attention. “Got a minute?”

“Sure thing,” he replies, looking up with a curious expression.

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