Page 29 of They All Puck Me

"Then prove to them you're not." she says, her voice gentle but insistent.

"I don’t know," I admit quietly. "But I do know I’m not gonna let them push me around."

Olivia smiles slightly, and for a moment, the tension eases. "You’ve got a lot of fire in you, Ethan. Maybe that’s what this team needs."

"Or maybe it’s what’ll tear us apart," I mutter.

She shakes her head. "Not if you can find a way to channel it into something positive."

I look at her, really look at her this time. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only understanding and maybe even a little bit of admiration.

"Thanks," I say finally, my voice rough but sincere.

She glances at her watch and sighs. "I have to go for the interviews with the other guys," she says reluctantly.

"Yeah," I nod, stepping back and trying to shake off the lingering frustration.

As Olivia walks away, I feel surprisingly better than before. Maybe it’s because I actually talked it out for once instead of bottling it up like usual.

For now, though, it's back to focusing on what matters: hockey and proving myself on this damn team.

12

OLIVIA

Idecided to head on home after today's midday interviews, rather than stick around for practice and observe the pissing contest. So here I am, staring at my laptop, I can’t seem to focus on my article for shit. My mind keeps replaying my interactions with Liam, Noah, and Ethan like a broken record. Their voices, their touches, the way each of them looked at me—it’s all jumbled in my head.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. "Come on, Olivia," I mutter to myself. "Focus. Career first."

But memories of Liam's almost-kiss intrude, the way his intense blue eyes locked onto mine. I can still feel the heat of his breath when Coach barged in. Then there’s Noah's gentle lips against mine, the soft brush that left me reeling and guilty all at once. And Ethan—gruff, brooding Ethan—showing a vulnerable side as he guided me through that trick shot on the ice.

"Get it together," I scold myself, more sternly this time. Oscar whines from under the table, curled up around my feet.

"No one asked you for your two cents grouch."

My phone buzzes on the desk beside me. I glance at it, half-expecting another text from my ex Matt, trying to reach out to "make things right." It's gotten to the point that I don't even read them anymore, he gets left on read and sent straight to the trash.

Instead, it's a message from Hartgrove:"Need those player interviews by EOD."

"Great," I sigh, picking up the phone to text back a quick acknowledgment. Like there's a snowball's chance in hell I'll have these finished by the end of the day. When I'm basically sitting here drawing metaphoric hearts and doodles around their names.

I'm desperate for advice. I need someone else opinion besides the scraggly dog at my feet. My hands shake slightly as I dial my best friend Sophie's number. The ringing feels like an eternity, each second a reminder of how tangled my emotions have become.

"Hey, Liv! What's up?" Sophie's cheerful voice greets me.

"Soph, I need advice. Like, now," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Uh-oh. This sounds serious. Spill."

I take a deep breath. "Okay, so you know how I've been covering the Wolves? Well, it's gotten...complicated."

"Complicated how? Did someone throw a puck at your head or something?"

"No, no pucks involved. It's...it's the players."

"Oh so it involves fucks instead of pucks then?" She lets out a low whistle. "This is gonna be good. Which one caught your eye?"

"Soph, No! God, not that. Well, not really. But it's not just one that's caught my eye…" I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

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