Page 73 of Fractured Faceoff

I slid into the chair across from them, shifting slightly under their scrutinizing gazes.

“Big game tomorrow,” Weston chimed in, twirling a pen between his fingers. “You ready to make your mark?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m always ready.”

Barrett leaned forward slightly, studying me with those sharp eyes of his. “I need you focused out there. No distractions.”

The weight behind those words sank in. My mind flickered briefly to Isla—our lunches filled with laughter and unspoken possibilities—but I shoved it down. Focus.

“I’ve got it covered,” I replied evenly.

Weston chuckled softly, amusement dancingin his eyes. “You sure? Last time I checked, you were still trying to figure out how to win over your girl.”

The tension crackled as Barrett shot Weston a warning glance.

“Let’s keep it professional,” Barrett interjected firmly.

I clenched my jaw but nodded again.

“We’re counting on you,” Barrett continued, straightening in his chair. “This isn’t just another game; it’s about proving ourselves. Our season has started off rocky, to say the least. They're already writing us off. Tomorrow may be preseason, but I want you to treat it like a game. Make your mark."

A knot twisted in my stomach as I nodded again. This was more than just hockey; this was everything I’d been fighting for—my chance to finally make something of myself on this team.

Barrett leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he studied us. “I called you both in here because I know the two of you have a history. I need to know you can play together.”

I clenched my jaw. The weight of Barrett’s words settled heavy in the air, and I didn’t want to think about Weston’s history with Hazel—the way he had shattered her heart like it was nothing.

“Understood,” I said, forcing the words out with more conviction than I felt.

Weston shifted slightly, a smug grin creeping onto his face. “What? You worried I’ll slap the puck in his direction on purpose?”

I shot him a glare that could’ve burned through steel. “This isn’t some game for you to fuck around with, Cole.”

“Oh, come on,” Weston drawled, leaning forward as iftrying to get under my skin. “You can’t seriously believe that was all me. Hazel made her choices too.”

“Choices?” I snapped, rising from my seat just enough to lean over the desk between us. “You think she chose to be hurt by you? You played her like a fool.”

Barrett cut in before Weston could respond. “Enough.” His voice dropped an octave, commanding silence. “You both need to find common ground if we’re going to make this work.”

Weston shrugged, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “Look, Jared, we’re professionals here. What happened between Hazel and me is in the past.”

“Right.” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as anger boiled beneath my skin. “Just like your reputation—unscathed while everyone else picks up the pieces.”

Barrett interjected again, his tone sharper this time. “This is not about personal grudges or past mistakes; it’s about winning games.” He leveled his gaze at each of us in turn. "It's about being a team… being a family. You knew you were going to have to play with him before coming her, Crowder. And we still signed you, despite what you did to him. I need to know bygones are bygones and all that horseshit before I start you tomorrow."

Weston leaned back again, that casual demeanor never wavering even under Barrett’s intensity. “I’m not here to revisit old wounds either,” he said coolly. “But if you think I’ll hold back on the ice because of some old history?—”

“I don’t care what you think,” I shot back before he could finish.

The room fell silent as Barrett watched us both intently.

“I need you both focused,” he stated firmly. "Canyou do that?"

I glanced at Weston again, and the tension crackled like a live wire between us.

“Yeah,” I replied tightly.

“Yeah,” Weston echoed with an edge that told me this wouldn’t be easy.

---