Page 43 of Off the Ice

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Ava

I was barely holding it together. I needed to tell Logan what I knew—or maybe, just maybe, the details in that email would be enough to fill in the blanks, to stitch the story together in a way that would spare me from admitting I’d known something before Darren ever said a word. That I’d sat on the truth. That I’d betrayed the fragile trust Logan and I had just started to build.

The weight pressing down on my chest felt heavier than anything in the rank-smelling weight room, but I hardly noticed as the door creaked open behind me. Logan stepped in.

At the far end of the room, sitting alone on a bench, was Darren Rivers. He looked even younger than he was, his shoulders curled in, head bowed low as he wrapped tape around his ankle with frantic precision. The motion was sharp, erratic—more like he was trying to holdhimselftogether than just support an injury. Each pass of the tape looked like it might unravel him if he stopped.

“Darren,” Logan said, his tone softer than I’d ever heard it. “This is Ava Carlisle. I think she may be able to help.”

Darren’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening as his bloodshot eyes darted between Logan and me. “Reporter?” The word came out sharp, defensive.

I raised both hands in a calming gesture. “I’m not here to make things worse for you, I promise. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

He snorted, a harsh sound that made me flinch. “What’s going on is I’m screwed. That’s what.” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked like he was barely holding back a breakdown. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the stick, the tape unraveling in his lap.

I shot Logan a glance, and he gave me a small nod, silently urging me to keep going.

“Darren,” I said, keeping my tone calm but firm. “I get that this is terrifying, but the more we know, the better chance we have of stopping whoever’s behind this. Can you tell me what’s been happening?”

His jaw clenched as he looked away, his grip tightening on the stick until his knuckles turned white. “What’s the point?” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “They’ve got me. They’ve got everything. You can’t fix this.”

Logan stepped forward, his presence commanding without being overbearing. “Hey,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through Darren’s spiraling. “Look at me.”

Darren hesitated, his shoulders tense, but he finally lifted his head, meeting Logan’s gaze.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Logan said, his tone firm and unyielding. “But I need you to tell us everything. No more shutting down, no more trying to handle this on your own. You don’t get to go silent on me now.”

Darren’s eyes flashed with anger, and he shoved the stick aside, standing abruptly. “You don’t get it!” he snapped, his voice rising. “They’re threatening my family, Bennett! My mom! My little sister! If I screw this up, they’re dead! You think I give a damn about hockey when they’re all I’ve got?”

The outburst hung in the air, the raw desperation in his voice making my chest tighten. Logan didn’t flinch, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer, putting himself directly in Darren’s space.

“You’re right,” Logan said, his voice low but intense. “I don’t get it. I’ve never had someone threaten my family like that. But I do know this, you’re not going to solve this by shutting us out and letting them control you. You’re not in this alone anymore, Darren. You’ve got me. You’ve got Ava. And we’re going to take these bastards down.”

Darren blinked rapidly, his breath hitching like he was fighting back tears. “How?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “How do you even start to fight something like this?”

“By not letting them win,” Logan said, his tone unwavering. “And by trusting us to have your back.”

Darren slumped back onto the bench, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, and for a moment, I thought he might completely fall apart. But then he exhaled sharply, lowering his hands and glaring at the floor.

“They came to me after I signed,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “Some guy—said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d… he’d go after my family. My mom, my little sister.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Logan asked, his arms crossed, his tone steady but with an edge of impatience.

Darren shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re careful. Messages come through burner phones, and I never meet the same guy twice. They just tell me what to do, and if I mess up…” His voice trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “They send me proof they’re watching. Pictures of my sister at school. My mom at work.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and I could see the fury simmering just beneath the surface. He knelt slightly, leveling his gaze with Darren’s. “What about the games? What exactly are they asking you to do?”

“Small stuff,” Darren mumbled, his hands fidgeting with the loose end of tape on his stick. “Miss a pass here, let a guy get by there. Forget a play or being in the wrong place. Just enough to throw things off without anyone noticing. They said… they said if I made it too obvious, it’d be worse for my family.”

I exchanged a glance with Logan, the unspoken weight of Darren’s words settling heavily between us.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” I said gently, stepping closer. “We’ll figure out who’s behind this, but we need you to trust us. And for now, this stays between the three of us. No one else.”

Darren looked up at me, his expression skeptical and raw. “You’re a reporter. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m not here to ruin you,” I said firmly. “I’m here to get the truth. Not clickbait. Not a takedown piece. And I'm here for Logan.”

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