Page 2 of Fractured Faceoff

Jared shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “It’s just preseason. Nothing to get worked up over.”

“It’s more than that,” I pressed. “These games are crucial for team chemistry. We need to see how everyone gels on the ice.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, losingsome of that easy-going demeanor. “Chemistry, huh? You mean seeing if Weston Cole and I can keep from tearing each other apart?”

I met his gaze head-on. “That’s part of it, yes. But it’s also about integrating new players and finding the right line combinations.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I get it. Everyone wants to know if we can play nice. But once the puck drops, it’s just hockey. You play the game or you don’t.”

“There’s more to it than that,” I countered. “It’s about trust and understanding your teammates’ tendencies.”

Jared let out a low chuckle. “Trust is earned, not given. And as for understanding tendencies, well, I’ve been doing this long enough to figure people out pretty quick.”

“Experience helps,” I agreed, “but even veterans need to adapt. Teaching an old dog new tricks, and all that.”

“Adaptation's my middle name,” he replied with a wink. "And sugar, ain't nothing old about my tricks."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “What do you think about the rookies on the team?”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “They’re green but hungry. That’s good for us. Keeps things competitive.”

“Any concerns?” I asked.

His expression turned serious for a moment. “Yeah, just one—making sure they know this isn’t a cakewalk. You gotta earn every inch out there.”

“That’s something you can help with,” I pointed out.

“Already planning on it,” he said with a nod.

The room fell silent for a moment; the tension easing slightly.

“How’s your knee holding up?” I asked, changing gears.

He shrugged again, more guarded thistime. “It’s holding up fine.”

I gave him a skeptical look but decided not to push further.

“We’ll see how everything shakes out in preseason,” Jared said finally.

“Yeah,” I agreed softly, glancing at my notes again.

The upcoming weeks would be telling, not just for Jared but for the entire team. And while he might downplay its importance, deep down we both knew these games were anything but trivial.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with that insufferable confidence. “So, sweetie, how’d you wind up here, working with a bunch of overgrown boys chasing a puck?”

I shot him a glare. “That’s none of your business.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and low. “Touchy subject, huh? Guessing it wasn’t part of your five-year plan?”

I scowled. “You know what? I think we’re done here. I have things to do.”

“A date?” he asked, a hint of mockery in his tone.

“If you thinkStranger Thingsand Chinese food with Brody is a date, then yes.”

“Brody?” His voice sharpened. “Who’s Brody?”

I rememberedhe was new to the team. He didn’t know about Brody—yet. “Forget about it,” I muttered.

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