Page 64 of Cold Carnage

He nodded, trying to follow my advice but still stumbling over his skates. The puck slid away from him more than once, and I could see the frustration building in his eyes.

We finished the drill, and I pulled him aside. "Look," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "You’re overthinking it. Let the game come to you."

Jason looked at me, wide-eyed and clearly eager to improve. "How do I do that?"

"Relax," I replied, my tone firm but encouraging. "Feel the ice beneath you, let your body remember the moves. Trust yourself. You've been playing since you could walk, right?" He nodded. "Then you already know what to do."

He nodded again, determination replacing some of the nervousness in his eyes.

"Let's run it again," I said, motioning for him to get back into position.

We started the drill once more. This time, Jason seemed more focused. He kept his head up, his passes stronger and more accurate. He moved through the cones with more confidence, his movements smoother and less forced.

When we finished the drill this time, I gave him a nod of approval. "Better," I said simply.

A small smile broke out on Jason’s face.

We continued with the drills, each one a test of speed, agility, and control. As we moved from one exercise to the next, Ikept an eye on Jason. He improved with each pass and turn, gradually finding his rhythm on the ice.

Barrett blew his whistle again, calling us back into a huddle for the next set of instructions.

I felt a flicker of satisfaction watching Jason blend into the group with a bit more confidence now than when we started.

Barrett skated to the center of the rink, the rookies forming a loose semicircle around him. His presence commanded respect without demanding it. He looked each of them in the eye, making sure he had their full attention.

"Listen up," he began, his voice carrying through the chilly air. "You're here because you’ve got potential. But potential doesn’t mean a damn thing unless you put in the work."

The rookies shifted nervously, their faces a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

"Not everyone here is going to make the team," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "That's not failure. That’s opportunity. An opportunity to push harder, dig deeper, and prove yourselves every single day. Every time you step onto this ice, you need to leave everything out here. No holding back. No second-guessing. This is where you show us what you're made of." He paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air like mist. "Work hard. Hustle in every drill, fight for every puck, and never—never—give up on a play. You think it's about talent? It's about heart."

The rookies nodded in unison, their focus unwavering.

"Remember," he said, his voice softening just a fraction, "this isn’t just about making the team. It’s about becoming better players and better people. Hockey teaches you discipline, resilience, and how to handle both success and failure."

"You've got this chance right now," he concluded. "Don’t waste it."

With that, he blew his whistle again, signaling the end of the huddle.

The rookies scattered across the ice, their energy renewed by Barrett’s words. I skated alongside them, feeling a sense of camaraderie that had been missing for far too long.

As we dove into the next drill, I couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—there was still hope for all of us to find our place both on and off the ice.

For now though, it was time to get back to work.

Chapter 19

Paige

The second Ryker left, I felt like I could breathe again. My chest loosened as the door clicked shut behind him. I closed my eyes, trying to banish the lingering sensation of his mouth on me. The heat of his breath, the way he had brought me to pleasure—it all surged back, unbidden.

No. I needed to get that out of my head. Ryker was dealing with enough, and the last thing I wanted was to add another scandal to his plate. Especially not after what happened at Michigan.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the papers strewn across my desk—crinkled and in disarray after what happened. The PR strategy for the back-to-school event needed my full attention. My fingers trembled slightly as I shuffled through the documents, trying to find the right notes.

"Get it together, Paige," I whispered to myself, pressing my palms flat against the desk. "You can do this."

The memory of Michigan clawed at the edges of my mind. Sam, that ill-fated night... It had taken months to clean up thatmess, and even now, whispers still followed me like shadows. It was my fault. I knew that.

---