Page 37 of They All Puck Me

A wave of panic crashes over me. I grip my notebook tighter, my knuckles white. My actions could jeopardize not just my career but the team's success.

I take a deep breath and step away from the door, determination hardening within me. I have to distance myself, for their sake and mine.

Once in my car, I pull out my phone and draft an email to Hartgove:

Subject: Adjusted Interview Plan

Hi,

I've decided to conduct the rest of my interviews over the phone and avoid attending practices in person. I think it will help maintain objectivity and minimize any potential disruptions for the team. I'll send you updates as I get them.

Best,

Olivia

I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

On the drive home, I replay every interaction with Liam, Noah, and Ethan in my mind, each memory a painful reminder of how far I've strayed from professionalism. This was supposed to be about the story—about proving myself as a journalist—not getting entangled in a complicated web of emotions.

When I arrive back at my apartment, I set up my laptop at the kitchen table and start scheduling phone interviews with other team members and staff. Each call feels like another step towards reclaiming control over my career.

I close my laptop and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The lines between personal and professional have blurred too much already; it's time to redraw them.

For everyone's sake.

Chapter 15- Rodeo

15

NOAH

"Liam, I'm wide open!" I shout. For what seems like the twelfth time today.

Dude is way off his fucking game. Every pass, every shot, it’s like he’s not even here. After a drill where he misses yet another easy pass, I skate over to him, catching his eye.

"What's your deal?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

"Nothing," he snaps back, not even looking at me.

"Could've fooled me," I mutter, but he’s already skating away.

As the shit show of a practice wraps up, I watch him as he avoids eye contact with Olivia. She’s standing by the boards, her notebook clutched like a lifeline. She looks just as uncomfortable as Liam. Something definitely happened. And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I catch up with Liam in the parking lot, his stride purposeful as he heads toward his car. "Hey, wait up!" I call out, jogging to close the distance. He glances over his shoulder, barely slowing down.

"What the hell is going on Liam?" I ask, falling into step beside him. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Liam's jaw tightens. "I said I'm fine, Noah."

"Bullshit," I retort. "You were off the whole practice. Something's eating at you."

He stops abruptly, turning to face me. His eyes are stormy, the usual calm intensity replaced by frustration. "It's none of your fucking business," he snaps.

I hold up my hands in mock surrender. "Woah, alright. But if this affects your game?—"

"It won't, I'm the captain," he interrupts, his voice sharp. "Just drop it."

"Fine," I say, not pushing further but giving him a pointed look. "But you know where to find me if you change your mind."

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