Page 38 of Icy Pucking Play

I throw a stress ball at his head. "Don't you have literally anywhere else to be?"

"Sophie?" Lexi's voice makes me jump. "Got a minute?"

Brad mouths "busted" as I follow our boss to her office, trying not to look as guilty as I feel. Which is ridiculous. I haven't done anything wrong.

Not really, right? Kissing your story subject’s uncle probably falls into some ethical gray area, but...

"How's the feature coming along?"

Lexi's question snaps me back to reality.

Yup. On it. Work.

Don’t fuck this up.

"Good! Great, actually. I've got some great material about Ryland's training regime, his relationship with the team..."

"And with Evan?"

Something in her tone makes me pause. "What about Evan?"

"Come on, Sophie." She leans forward, that familiar gleam in her eye. "Former NHL bad boy becomes devoted single dad and mentor to his teenage nephew? That's gold."

My stomach twists. "The feature is supposed to be about Ryland."

"It is about Ryland. But it's also about family. About redemption. About second chances..." She trails off meaningfully. "Unless there's a reason you don't want to explore that angle?"

Images from last night flash through my mind: Evan teaching Natalia proper goalie stance, helping Ryland perfect his shot, looking at me across his kitchen counter like he wants to...

"I just..." I swallow hard. "I promised him I'd respect certain boundaries."

"And we will, but Sophie, this could be huge for your career. The kind of story that gets noticed, that opens doors." She studies me carefully. "The kind of story that comes with a promotion and a raise."

A raise.

God, how long has it been since I sent money home to help with Allison's college fund? Since I contributed to Dad's medical bills?

My phone buzzes again and I glance at it.

Evan:Natalia asked if you're coming to practice. Says she needs your opinion on her new pads.

Something warm blooms in my chest, immediately followed by guilt.

"I'll think about it," I tell Lexi, standing up. "But I won't exploit their trust. That's not negotiable."

She nods, but I can tell this isn't the end of the conversation.

Back at my desk, I find a cup of decent coffee—the kind from the shop down the street, not the office sludge—waiting for me.

"Thanks for the coffee," I say, taking another grateful sip. "I needed this."

"Clearly." Brad settles into his chair. "So, what are you so wound up about?"

I fidget with my cup. "Hypothetically, if you were covering a story about someone, and you had feelings for...someone related to that someone..."

"Your eloquence astounds me."

“Quit it. I'm serious."

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