Page 37 of Captain's Claim

Then, to my surprise, his tone shifts.

"Look," he shrugs, crossing his arms. "If it's messing with your head this bad, you’ve got two choices - deal with it, or walk the fuck away."

I blink. Connor Walsh, giving advice?

Seriously. Who spiked the local water supply with crazy juice? Because this town's gone full bat-shit insane lately.

He continues before I can respond. "But if you're hitting shit and snapping at people instead of sleeping, then you already know which one youdon'twanna do."

I shake my head. "Since when do you hand out fortune-cookie wisdom?"

Connor just smirks. "Since I’ve been in your exact shoes before. Difference is, I let my shit fester and made a mess of it. If I could go back..." He exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. "I’d do things differently."

My chest tightens, but I force the sensation down, swallowing hard.

Connor reaches for a roll of tape from the bench. "Anyway, what do I know? I’m just a goalie with too much time on my hands. But if you’re still this pissed off by the time practice is over, maybe it’s time to quit lying to yourself and do something about it."

I don’t answer.

Because Idon’thave an answer.

Instead, I grab my towel and throw it over my shoulder. "We done with this therapy session? Coach Brody's waiting."

We head for the door, but as we roll out onto the ice fifteen minutes later, Connor's words still linger.Deal with it, or walk the fuck away.

Chapter Ten

Sophia

Iam not hiding.

I amstrategically managing my workloadfrom the safe, enclosed confines of my office.

There’s a difference.

If I werehiding, I wouldn’t have my laptop open, spreadsheets neatly color-coded, a fresh notebook filled with the latest PR initiatives, and a very important report on community engagement that I am definitely reading and not just aggressively highlighting to distract myself.

I sip my latte - extra caramel drizzle, extra foam, extra everything. It’s lukewarm now, but that’s not the point. The point is that I amfine. I am professional. I amfocused.

Like Ross Gellar fromFriendswould say, I'mfine.

My phone vibrates.

Mom:So what if you haven’t made your impact yet? That just means they haven’t seen what you can really do.

I scowl and drop my phone facedown on the desk.

Easy for her to say. My mother is a legend. A woman who could negotiate a hundred-million-dollar contract before her first cup of coffee in the morning.

She’s the type to own every room she walks into, and for the past week, I’ve been venting to her about the pushback from the board, the resistance, the way this team operates like a goddamn fortress with Blake Maddox standing guard.

What Ihaven’tmentioned?

That I let the team captain shove me up against a wall and kiss me like he was trying to rewrite my DNA.

Yeah. That little detail has yet to make it into our mother-daughter career chats.

I spin my chair toward the window, my gaze automatically drifting down to the town square below.

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