Page 50 of Unleashed

Her eyes lit up as she nodded, red curls bouncing, all mischief and mayhem—as if we were gossiping about some random hookup and not whatever this thing with Jack was.

Or could have been.

Chapter Sixteen

Viggy

Hockey Rule #45: Own your mistakes

Media Rule #45: Control the narrative

MycalltoLilyrang straight to voicemail. Again.

I tossed it to the foot of the bench and slammed another plate onto the bar. The weight room hummed with the usual morning energy—metal clanking, the guys grunting through their sets, pop music bouncing in through the speakers.

“Need a spot?” Silver hovered at my left shoulder as I squared up under the bar.

I shook my head, but he stayed close anyway. Smart guy. Good instincts. He’d wear my C well next season.

I tightened my grip on the bar. I didn’t begrudge Silver my spot. The taste of resentment had faded. Another thing I could thank Lily for. But I sure as hell envied the years he still had in the game. I pushed the thought away and heaved the weights up, launching into my reps with an edge of annoyance.

Twenty-four hours since I’d heard Lily’s voice. Since I’d woken up to her warmth beside me. Since I’d traced the line of her spine, pressed my face into her hair and breathed in the mix of citrus and something warmer that still hadn’t let go of my sheets.

She used to haunt my every step, driving me crazy with her constant questions, her annoying questions. Should have seen this coming. Because even then, I’d tracked her every movement like a cat mesmerized by a squirrel outside a window. Now? Her absence set my teeth on edge.

The shift from barely tolerating her to craving her touch hit me like a check at center ice, unexpected, sharp. Distracting.

Twenty-four hours without a fucking peep? After being skin-to-skin for days?

Was she blowing me off?

Not Hollywood’s style. Whatever else I might have said about her, she was a straight shooter. Never pulled her punches, even when it pissed me off. Especially when it pissed me off. This sudden silent treatment? Out of character and unacceptable.

My jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. I powered through another set, my knee shrieking with each rep. The familiar throb pounded deep in the joint, but the tension knotting between my shoulder blades? That was all Sutton.

Silver stepped forward as I racked the weights. “You good?”

Silver’s words hung in the air between us. He wasn’t just another teammate checking my form—he was doing what a good teammate does. What a good captain does—putting the team first, always. Personal drama had no place in hockey.

“I’m fine.” I sat up, swiped a towel across my face.

My phone taunted me from the end of the bench. Still dark. Every instinct in my body screamed. The same instincts that told me Silver was a man I could trust with my team. Instincts that let me read the ice like a book.

Chicago would hit our arena tomorrow for the first round of the playoffs. I needed laser focus. Not this fog of questions bordering on worry. Not this ache that had nothing to do with my knee.

But that voice in my head wouldn’t shut up. The one that said Lily’s silence meant something. Last I’d seen her, she’d been dodging traffic in the hallway, making a beeline away from me.

“Earth to Viggy.” Silver waved his hand in front of my face. “You sure you’re good? Never seen you miss a count before.”

I blinked. Had I lost track of my sets? “Just planning how to crush Chicago’s soul.” The lie rolled off my tongue with practiced ease. Leadership 101—never show weakness. Never let them think your head’s not in the game. “Speaking of which, your backcheck was garbage this morning. We need more from you against their top line.”

Silver’s smirk told me he saw through my deflection, but he played along, snapping up to his full height. “Yes, Captain, my Captain. Whatever you say, Captain.”

I rolled my eyes at the old movie reference, waved him off and grabbed my phone.

Miss you, Hollywood.

The words stared back at me, too soft, too needy. Delete.

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