Page 81 of Fractured Faceoff

Steve took a step forward, clearly tired of Brody’s antics. “You’re done here.”

I felt a rush of triumph wash over me as Brody's bravado crumbled slightly under Steve's glare.

As Brody stormed off, his arrogance still clinging to him like a cheap cologne, I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me. My heart still raced, but the weight of his presence lifted. I could breathe again.

Steve approached me, his brow furrowed with concern. “You okay, Miss Sawyer?”

I nodded, even though my hands trembled slightly. “Yes. I… Thank you, Steve. I'm sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Brody’s an asshole,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile before turning to leave.

I sank into the chair near the glass, trying to shake off the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The crowd roared as players darted across the ice in a flurry of action, and for a moment, I focused on the game. The sound of skates cutting against ice mixed with the cheers and gasps from the stands provided a welcome distraction.

With each shift in play, I attempted to ground myself inreality. The warmth from the arena wrapped around me like a blanket as I leaned forward to watch Jared weave through defenders with that signature speed. He glided effortlessly across the rink, and for a moment, I envied how he seemed so comfortable in his own skin—so sure of himself.

A part of me wanted to scream at him from here to take that shot or pass it off, but that was just my inner psychologist fighting for control. As much as I wanted to dive back into my work mode, tonight felt different.

I bit my lip as tension seeped back in; every glance toward Jared pulled at something deep within me.

The game moved on without interruption as if nothing had happened outside this arena bubble. But inside my chest was a whirlwind—a conflict between who I was supposed to be and who I might want to become.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for just a second longer than necessary. With each breath, I tried to release some tension from my shoulders while forcing myself not to think about Brody or what had just gone down between us.

Just focus on the game—focus on what really matters right now.

By the time the game wrapped up, the Serpents had secured a solid win over the Seagulls. The roar of the crowd filled my ears, and I finally managed to shake off the remnants of that explosive confrontation with Brody. My heart still raced, but I found solace in the rhythm of the game, cheering alongside fellow fans as Jared scored two goals. Each time he netted one, it felt like a little victory for me too.

As I pushed through the throng of excited fans heading for the exits, a question nagged at me:now what? The chaos had faded into adrenaline-fueled exhilaration, but beneath that lay a raw uncertainty about what awaited me in the locker room.

Jared had asked me to meet him there after the game.

I navigated through a sea of fans, my mind racing faster than I could keep up with. Each step felt heavier as I approached the entrance to the players’ area. Familiar faces passed by—teammates celebrating their victory—but all I could focus on was Jared.

I paused at the doorway, taking a moment to steady myself. The locker room buzzed with a mixture of excitement and chatter as I stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of sweat and victory. Cameras flashed like fireflies, capturing every moment as players emerged from their post-game rituals. I weaved through the throng of reporters and fans, my heart pounding as I searched for Jared.

There he was, standing amid a crowd of journalists in his Serpents track suit, his hair damp from a shower. The fabric hugged his lean frame, showcasing the strength that belied his speed on the ice. I caught a glimpse of those piercing amber eyes glinting with something between mischief and determination as he handled questions with ease.

“Mr. Crowder! What do you have to say about your altercation with Brody Williams during your first shift?” A pretty young woman stood at the front of the pack, her bright red hair cascading over her shoulders like a fiery waterfall. She looked no more than twenty-two, wide-eyed and eager, with an infectious smile that could light up any room.

Jared leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. The confidence radiating from him drew my gaze like a magnet. “Hockey is one thing,” he replied casually, thatSouthern drawl rolling off his tongue like honey. “Things get heated. But when it comes to my girl, I don't like when people get too close."

“Is there any bad blood between you two?” she pressed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shot back with a grin, flashing those dimples that made my stomach flip. He had a way of captivating everyone around him, but there was something different about this moment—something just for me.

The reporters crowded closer, their questions overlapping like a cacophony of noise, but all I could hear was Jared’s voice cutting through the chaos. His confidence had an infectious quality that made my heart race anew; it was as if every word hung in the air just for me.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, feeling out of place yet drawn in by the magnetic pull between us. It was impossible not to feel that connection even amid this frenzy.

“Do you think Brody will retaliate after tonight’s game?” the reporter continued, leaning closer to him as if drawing everyone in even tighter.

I felt a knot tighten in my chest as I waited for Jared's response.

"Honestly, Daphne, I hope he does."

His voice carried a dangerous edge that sent a thrill through me. His eyes swept across the crowd, and suddenly, they locked onto mine. My breath hitched in my throat, and the world faded into a blur of noise and flashing cameras. I felt my cheeks warm under his gaze.

“Speaking of my girl,” he drawled, a hint of mischief dancing in his tone.

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