Coach Mike sighed, his massive frame sinking heavily into one of the chairs opposite her desk. “He asked about his contract today,” he said, the words slow and deliberate, as though he hated saying them. “I think he’s contacting his manager to see about a trade.”

The air seemed to leave the room.

Molly’s breath caught, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. “What?” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought was inconceivable. Gerard Thierry was willing to leave the team—his dream job—because of her? A knot of guilt and disbelief twisted in her chest.

“I know you’re trying, but somethinghasto give,” Coach Mike said, his expression strained. Her mind raced, filling the silence with possibilities. Something had to give… as inherorThierry. The team wouldn’t sacrifice a player of his caliber for someone like her.

She knew it.

Everyone knew it.

“Are you firing me?” The question tumbled out before she could stop it, her voice trembling with the weight of what she feared most.

“No,” he said, though his pause after the word was heavy. “But I need you here for Lafreniere. He’s finally staying on the ice and out of pain because of you. But I need Thierry, too. Do you think you can ease up on him? Try to…”

“I haven’t even spoken to him in two weeks,” she interrupted, her voice cracking as the frustration and hurt spilled over. “The man avoids me like the plague. He’s locked me out of rooms and taken my kettlebells, and this morning I couldn’t even get into the gym. What more can I do? He’s.. impossible.”

Coach Mike rubbed a hand over his face, the weight of leadership etched in every line of his features. “I’ll make sure you get your equipment back,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But listen, Molly, when I took over this team, they were... a mess. I’ve worked hard to create a culture where everyone feels like they belong. I don’t want to see that fall apart.”

She nodded, even as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “I admire that,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “And I’ll keep trying. I’ll kill him with kindness if I have to, but I can’t keep walking on eggshells around him.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Coach Mike said, rising to his feet. He lingered at the door, his hand resting on the knob. “If he ever extends an olive branch, make sure you take it. Gerry’s a great guy. He’s just not easy to reach.”

“So I’ve heard,” she replied, her tone tinged with doubt.

Coach Mike hesitated, his voice softening as he added, “His circle isn’t big. Hockey is his whole world. Let’s try to give him a home here together. Okay?”

The words hit harder than they should have, striking a chord deep within her. She nodded, too afraid her voice would betray her emotions. She knew what it was like to feel out of place, to struggle with finding where you belonged. But how could she make someone like Gerry feel at home when he treated her like the enemy?

Later, as she stepped into the hallway, her thoughts churned. A group of players moved toward the rink, skates scraping lightly against the floor as they headed for the ice. Among them, Gerry’s towering figure stood out. His shoulders were broad, his movements fluid, but as if sensing her presence, he turned. His gaze locked on hers, his expression hardening into the now-familiar scowl.

“Thierry!” Coach Mike’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension. “Leave it on the ice. Whatever has you upset, let it go.”

“I’m not upset,” Gerry snapped, though his glare remained fixed on Molly. “I’m just skating.”

“She’s doing her job,” Coach Mike replied firmly, his unspoken command clear. “Molly, get down here by Lafreniere.”

“Yes, Coach,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. Pulling on her gloves, she headed toward Dustin Lafreniere, who gave her an encouraging nod. But as she stepped closer to the ice, she hesitated, the memories of past teasing surfacing. She’d never skated before. Her balance was atrocious, and stepping onto the slick surface felt like stepping onto a battlefield.

The icy chill of the rink crept through the thin soles of her sneakers as Molly stepped cautiously toward the boards. Her breath fogged in the crisp air, her nerves tightening with every second. The faint scrape of blades cutting through ice filled her ears, punctuated by the occasional thud of a puck meeting a stick. She glanced around nervously, wishing she could disappear into the shadows of the arena.

“Where are your skates?” Gerry’s voice rang out sharply, slicing through the background noise.

Molly flinched at his tone, her eyes darting to him. He stood in the center of the rink, his lean, powerful form illuminated under the bright overhead lights. Even from a distance, his disbelief was palpable, his gaze locked on her like a predator sizing up its prey.

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear, inching her way closer to the ice. Her heart pounded harder with each step, the air thick with the weight of her own uncertainty.

“You can’t come out in sneakers!” Gerry’s voice was louder now, carrying above the faint hum of the rink. Heads turned, a few players pausing mid-stride to glance their way.

Before she could defend herself, he was already moving. His powerful strides sent ice chips flying as he skated toward her, closing the distance with an intensity that left her frozen in place. When he reached her, his towering frame loomed over her, casting her in shadow. His gloved hand clamped around her upper arm, firm but not cruel, though the frustration in his grip was unmistakable.

“What are you thinking?” he hissed, his green eyes narrowing as he looked her over. “Nobody goes on the ice without proper protection. It’s a rule. Do you even understand the risks?” His voice rose slightly, his frustration spilling out in sharp, clipped words. “You could lose a toe, a finger—get sliced open by accident!”

Molly swallowed hard, the sting of embarrassment rising in her chest. She tried to nod, but his grip and the heat of his words left her throat tight. She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to snap back.

Instead, she flicked her gaze away, trying to keep her pride intact as Coach Mike skated by. He gave her a knowing look, his calm words cutting through the tension. “Olive branch?”

Molly blinked.