Page 9 of Pucked On Camera

"Text me when you’re free," he says with a nod, backing toward his own vehicle. "Don't chicken out."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I say, slipping inside my own car and pushing the key start button, letting the engine's purr cut through the silence

I pause to sit and collect my thoughts, reminding myself why I'm doing this—for Amelia, for the team, for myself. Maybe I can't change Jasper's mind, but I can damn well try to change the locker room culture, starting with one act of decency at a time.

Chapter 5

Amelia

As I walk down the long hall to leave the Blade’s Edge for the night, my mind replays work for the day, making sure I got everything done for tomorrow’s game. But one thing sticks on repeat in my mind, the glances. Riley's blue gaze flicking my way, subtle but unmistakable. It's been happening ever since we went for drinks last week.

I push through the double doors of the building into the biting Chicago wind. The cold air slaps my cheeks and stings from being warm inside the rink. I shift my jacket up to my neck, tug my ponytail tighter, and stride towards the bus stop.

"Amelia, wait up!" A voice carries over the hum of traffic.

I turn to see a pair of lower-level players jogging to catch up. These guys are barely older than college kids, still carrying around their cockiness.

"Yeah," I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear and forcing a polite smile. "What's up?"

"Party tonight," the taller one says, his grin a little too wide for comfort. "You should come."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I reply. They're nice enough guys, but parties aren't my scene - especially not team parties where whispers and stares follow me like ghosts of past mistakes.

"Aw, come on," his friend chimes in, falling into step beside me. "It’d be fun having you there."

"Really can't," I insist, picking up my pace. I need distance and space from their persistence. I don’t like to get close to people in general from fear of them not turning out to be who they say they are or knowing too much about me. I like to keep my friend circle small, almost nonexistent, and my secrets even more hidden.

They don't take the hint, matching my quickened steps as we move toward the thrumming heart of downtown. My pulse races, not from the walk, but from the discomfort knotting tight in my stomach.

"Seriously, guys—" I start, about to lay down a firmer refusal, but my words are cut off as I feel a firm but gentle hand wrap around my arm, yanking me back into a wall of warmth.

"Amelia, there you are," Riley's voice is startling but a welcomed sound. I twist around to find those bright blues locking onto mine.

"Riley?" My voice sounds small, almost drowned out by the rush of relief running through my veins. The lower-level players step back, under Riley’s glare.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got plans." Riley angles his body between me and them.

"Uh, sure, Cap, no problem," one of the guys stammers before they both sidestep away.

"Where did you come from?" I ask once they're out of earshot, trying to slow the frantic beat of my heart.

"I was just pulling up from the garage when I saw these clowns tailing you." His thumb brushes against my cheek. "Want me to take you home?"

I hesitate, knowing this isn't just about trying to flirt with me as a pickup line anymore. "Yes, please." My voice is steadier than I feel. Riley's presence has always had the power to unsettle me, even back in college, but tonight it’s a welcomed feeling.

"Let’s go," he murmurs, gently guiding me with a hand at the small of my back.

We reach his SUV, and both my body and my mind ease as Riley opens the passenger door for me.

"Thanks," I manage to say as I slide into the soft, leather seat.

"Sure thing." The way he says it; it’s like he's claiming responsibility for my safety. It makes me feel important. This is an odd feeling. I’ve only ever felt that from my parents.

He shuts the door and walks around to the driver's side. The engine purrs with the push of a button, and I watch him, taking in the furrowed brow and set jaw. I’m thinking that he's not just doing this because it's what captains of a hockey team do. There's something there between us, something that's been simmering since that night we went for drinks.

The drive is silent, but it's a comfortable silence, filled with glances that linger just a bit too long. My thoughts run through my head, turning over the events of the night, and the pull I feel towards Riley.

It's a tug I've been trying to ignore because trust doesn't come easy to me. It just feels impossible to block out, though.

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