Page 46 of Fractured Faceoff

Myplan.

She didn't know about it.

Yet.

I glanced around once more before stepping out of her office and closing the door quietly behind me. With any luck, this would be enough to start our day off right—and send a clear message to everyone involved.

As I made my way toward the locker room for morning skate, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation. Today was going to be interesting, no doubt about it.

I pushed open the locker room door and was immediately hit by the familiar scent of sweat, liniment, and damp gear. The room buzzed with the low hum of conversations, laughter, and the metallic clinks of locker doors.

Ryker Kane stood near his locker, methodically taping his stick. His focus was intense, brows furrowed in concentration. The guy had always been a perfectionist, every detail mattered to him. His dark hair was still damp from his shower, curling slightly at the ends.

Nikolai Volkov, the Russian Reaper himself, sat a few lockers down. He was tying his skates with a precision that matched his brutal on-ice persona. Despite his reputation, he had a calm demeanor off the ice. His sharp blue eyes flickered up to meet mine briefly before returning to his task.

Weston Cole’s booming laugh echoed through the room, a stark contrast to the tension I felt building insideme. He was chatting animatedly with some of the younger guys, his charisma on full display. But all I could see was the man who had broken my sister's heart and left her heart in tatters.

My teeth clenched involuntarily as memories of that night flashed through my mind—the confrontation, the punches thrown, the raw anger that had driven me to take Weston down. It had only been a couple of practices since then, and we hadn't exchanged a single word.

Weston glanced in my direction for a split second before looking away. It was like he could feel my eyes boring into him but chose to ignore it. Fine by me.

I moved to my locker and started getting ready for practice, trying to push thoughts of Weston out of my mind. The team needed me focused today; I needed to be on my game if we were going to make any headway this season.

The room buzzed around me—voices blending into a symphony of pre-practice routines. Ryker's meticulous preparation, Nikolai's quiet intensity, and Weston's boisterous presence all created an undercurrent that fueled our team’s dynamic.

I finished lacing up my skates and stood up, stretching out muscles still tight from yesterday’s workout. As I did, I couldn’t help but steal another glance at Weston. He was already pulling on his jersey, his expression unreadable.

"Ready to hit the ice?" Kellan Bishop's voice cut through my thoughts as he joined me in stretching.

Kellan Bishop stretched beside me, his movements precise and controlled. At 34, he was a goalie with a reputation as sharp as his wit. On the ice, he was a predator, known for getting into opponents’ heads before they even realized it. Off the ice, he was calculating, always three steps ahead. His blond hair and piercingeyes gave him an almost intimidating presence, but it was his cunning that set him apart. Before I came here, I did my research. Kellan had built an empire outside of hockey—risky ventures that paid off big. Trust was a foreign concept to him; life had taught him to rely on no one but himself.

"Always," I replied, rolling my shoulders back to loosen up. The tension from thinking about Isla and our plan melted away slightly as the routine of practice took over.

We filed out of the locker room and onto the rink. The cold air hit me like a slap, waking up every nerve in my body. I pushed off with my skates, feeling the familiar glide of blades on ice.

Practice began with drills—speed work, puck handling, all the basics that formed the backbone of our game. My mind cleared with each stride, each pass. This was my sanctuary where nothing else mattered but the play unfolding in front of me.

Chapter 13

Isla

Waking up the next morning felt like stepping into an alternate reality. The ceiling above me looked the same, but everything else had shifted. I couldn’t believe I’d actually agreed to Jared’s ludicrous proposal. Fake dating? It sounded like something out of a bad rom-com, not my life.

I dragged myself out of bed, my mind still tangled in yesterday’s events. Jared Crowder had waltzed back into my life with a plan so audacious it almost seemed brilliant. Almost.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I brushed my teeth and tried to focus on the day ahead. Work would be a welcome distraction. I had sessions lined up with players who needed my help managing the stress and pressure of their careers. That was my domain, where I excelled. Not in this bizarre charade Jared and I had concocted.

I threw on a professional yet casual outfit—black slacks and a teal blouse—hoping it would help me slip back into my role as the no-nonsense sports psychologist for theDetroit Serpents. Grabbing my bag, I headed out the door and made my way to the arena.

As I walked through the bustling corridors of the training facility, a strange sense of nervousness gnawed at me. It wasn’t like me to feel this way at work; here, I was in control. Yet today, an undercurrent of unease threaded through my thoughts.

“Morning, Isla,” one of the assistant coaches greeted me as I passed by. It appeared the morning skate scheduled for this morning had just ended.

“Morning,” I replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

I entered my office and closed the door behind me, taking a moment to breathe. This was ridiculous. Why was I so rattled? Maybe it was because agreeing to Jared’s plan meant letting go of some of that tightly held control. Or perhaps it was the fear that this whole thing could blow up in our faces—and take my professional reputation with it.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the bouquet until I sat down at my desk. My heart stalled for a moment, and I blinked, trying to make sense of the vibrant arrangement before me. Roses mingled with wildflowers in a chaotic yet beautiful display. Red and white roses stood tall among splashes of yellow daisies and purple lupines, the scent a sweet blend that filled the room.

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