Page 74 of Fractured Faceoff

Barrett nodded once and leaned back into his chair. His fingers steepled, and I could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thundercloud. “Good,” he said finally. “Kane and a couple of the others are sitting. You two are my top guys tomorrow. I need to ensure your leadership is unparalleled. Every damn hockey fan needs to know we have no weaknesses, got it?”

I nodded, adrenaline surging through me at the thought of being one of Barrett’s go-to players. It was a chance to make a name for myself here.

"Yeah." Weston echoed my affirmation, but there was a hint of something else behind his eyes—something that told me he was as eager to prove himself as I was.

“I don’t care what you do, brawl before the game, what have you,” Barrett continued, his voice dropping lower as he leaned forward slightly. “You step on the ice, you’re playing for the name on the front, not the one on the back.”

Those words struck me hard. It wasn’t just about personal pride; it was about representing something bigger than ourselves—our team, our city. The Serpents needed to show they were fierce and united.

“Got it,” I said firmly.

“Yeah,” Weston replied with an edge that matched mine.

Barrett held our gazes for a moment longer, measuring our resolve before nodding once more.

“Good. Now get out of my office.”

The dismissal hitlike a cannon shot, sending us both scrambling to our feet. As I stepped into the hallway, tension still crackled between Weston and me like electricity. I could feel his eyes on me as we walked side by side toward the locker room, but I refused to give him any satisfaction.

“Think you can actually keep up tomorrow?” he asked casually, leaning against the wall as we passed by Kane and a couple of other guys who sat nearby.

I shot him a glare but kept my voice steady. “Just stay out of my way.”

He chuckled softly under his breath as if amused by my bravado. “Right.”

We pushed through the door leading back into our space, and I felt every ounce of determination coursing through me. Tomorrow would be different; it had to be.

This time wouldn’t be about proving anything to anyone else; it would be about stepping into that spotlight for myself—leaving every doubt behind and embracing what it meant to truly play for the Serpents.

Chapter 21

Isla

Ipaced around the living room, my fingers grazing the fabric of every shirt and dress hanging in the closet. Jared's steady breathing drifted from the couch, a soft reminder that he had somehow fallen asleep after demolishing a whole box of pasta himself. If I could eat that much without it affecting my shape, I would be in a food coma too.

It was Friday—the day of the Serpents' first preseason game—and I felt a flutter of nerves that I couldn’t shake. The thought struck me as absurd. Why was I nervous? This wasn’t my first rodeo, yet each piece of clothing I held up only amplified my anxiety.

I settled on a fitted black top, one that hugged my waist just right, but it felt too serious. A pair of jeans followed, but they were far too casual for what lay ahead. Jared had insisted we look good—his way of trying to ease my apprehension about being in the spotlight together.

“Isla!” he’d called out earlier, a goofy grin plastered on his face. “We gotta look like we belong together.” His charmalways got under my skin, but today it was different. This wasn’t just another game; it was our show.

“Ugh!” I tossed the blacktop onto the bed in frustration and dug deeper into the closet. A sundress caught my eye—light blue with small white flowers dancing across it. It had been ages since I wore something so feminine. Maybe this was a bad idea.

A sudden crash jolted me from my thoughts as Jared stirred awake, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a yawn that echoed through the room.

“What time is it?” he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Almost two,” I replied absentmindedly while still sifting through clothes.

He blinked at me for a moment before sitting up fully. “You good? You seem... tense.”

“Tense?” I laughed sharply, tossing another shirt back into the pile as if it were to blame for my jitters. “I’m fine.” But even I could hear the waver in my voice.

Jared’s brow furrowed as he watched me flit between choices. “You’re not fine,” he pressed gently, leaning forward with genuine concern etched on his face.

I rolled my eyes, but there was no hiding the truth—I was anything but fine.

I finally settled on a pair of tight jeans and a boyfriend shirt, the fabric soft and slightly oversized, perfect for disguising my nerves. Cute flats completed the look, their simple elegance providing just enough flair without drawing too much attention. As I curled my hair, each strand bounced into place, feeling lighter with every twist of the iron. I applied just enough makeup to highlight my features—no more than that. I didn't want to mask who I was; I needed tofeel like myself.

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