Page 15 of Unleashed

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “Mack?” She wasn’t the only one who could do assessing. “Is that going to get Malone the views he wants? Mack is a fantastic coach, one of the best, but the man is a walking cliche.”

The corner of her lips ticked up. “He is, but he’s more than just a cliche. He’s fascinating.” Something sparked in her expression, that passion that made her dangerous. “This morning he told me he was weirded out by the iguana, but he refused to let on to the team. Said you guys needed to get out of your heads this time of year. That if it meant losing his office to an iguana, that was a price he’s willing to pay.” Her focus lasered in on me, making my skin prickle. “Everyone’s got a story to tell, Vig. It’s just a matter of finding the perspective, presenting it in a way Johnny Public can identify with.”

I snorted. “Perspective? Is that Hollywood talk for fancy editing to get the most views?”

“No.” Her voice hardened, that edge back—the one that both intrigued and irritated me. “It’s Hollywood speak for showing every person’s unique viewpoint. Showing viewers how people think, what’s important to them, showing them what’s at stake. It’s about making them feel something real.”

The passion in her voice vibrated through me, but I couldn’t afford to trust it. To trust her. “Everyone’s got a story, Sutton. But not every story needs telling.” Let her read between those lines. I wasn’t about to hand her ammunition for her show.

“Right.” She unfolded her leg, stretching beneath the table. Though the edge blocked my view, the sight of those long, tan legs in those damn shorts was burned into my brain. I shifted in my seat, fighting back images I had no business entertaining.

“I was thinking of talking to some of the guys about Mack. His coaching style, his impact on the team...”

“Waste of time. They’ll just give you the usual platitudes.” I dragged my hand over my jaw, the scrape of stubble grounding me against the way she dominated my space, my senses. “Mack’s a great coach. He pushes us to be our best.’ Blah, blah, and more blah.”

“You think so?” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and everything in me went still. The string lights caught the delicate curve of her cheekbones, played over the fullness of her lips. Damn my life, she was a beautiful woman.

“I know so,” I said, my voice rougher than intended. I tore my gaze away, focusing on her cat instead. The damn thing had poked his head further out of the backpack, glaring at me like I’d personally offended his entire species.

“Well, then.” She stroked the cat’s head, her thumb rubbing behind his ear. The damn thing melted into her touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Maybe you could do better? Be a little more honest? On the record, of course. For the feature.”

Something in her tone raised my hackles. “My perspective?” The laugh that escaped held no humor. “Fine. My perspective is that he’s a pain in the ass. He’s demanding. Pushes us harder than any coach I’ve ever had—wearing that fucking smile the whole time. Sometimes it’s all I can do not to knock that smile right off his face.”

She laughed. “See?” she said, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “That’s a great description. Raw, honest. And if we let it be known that you’re cooperating, more of the guys would be a little more honest, too.”

The way she said “cooperating” scraped against my nerves. “Not if you don’t come up with better questions.”

“How about… How does he inspire players to greatness?”

I snorted. “What, now you think he’s a miracle worker?” I shook my head. “He’s working with world-class athletes. The best players on the planet. A career in the NHLisgreatness. It’s the pinnacle. Doesn’t get any better.”

The chair creaked as I leaned back. Her gaze stayed locked on me, steady, unreadable.

The next question glowed between us like a neon light. Once you’ve reached the pinnacle, what the hell came next? Some guys had families, kids. Something to fill the void. But I’d been so focused on the game, on my career, that the rest of life passed me by. I rubbed my thumb over the label on my beer, peeling the edge.

“It doesn’t get any better than this, huh?” Something in her voice made me look up.

The Cup flashed before my eyes. The one thing that had driven me for seventeen years. That drove every hockey player worth his salt. The ultimate prize.

Sutton swirled her wine, the glass catching the glow of the lights. “Must be something. Dedicating your whole life to a single goal. And then…” Her voice dipped. “What comes after that? What can possibly hold a candle?”

Her words tunneled straight into the doubts that kept me up at night. The same questions that had haunted me since the season started, screaming louder with every twinge in my knee. I wasn’t ready for my career to end. Sure as hell wasn’t ready to end it early because of a fluke injury.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with things I couldn’t afford to say. What came next? When the arena went dark and I hung up my skates, what then?

I fell back on the move that had served me all season with her and every other reporter hunting headlines. Deflect. “Everything comes to an end sometime, right? What about you? What do you have lined up afterUnleashed?”

She pulled her cat from the backpack, cradling him against her chest like armor. “That’s the million dollar question.” Her gaze drifted past me to some point in the darkness beyond the patio. “I don’t have anything lined up, actually.Unleashedis... Well, it’s my first project in almost three years.”

“Three years?” The timeline didn’t compute with the driven woman who’d prowled our practices for months, always hunting the perfect angle. “You took time off?”

“Not on purpose.” She buried her face in her cat’s fur, but not before I caught the shadow in her eyes.

Everything about her in that moment screamed vulnerability—the way she held that damn cat like a lifeline, the careful neutrality in her voice, the tension in her shoulders. Every detail a glimpse of something new, something unguarded and vulnerable, a side of her I hadn’t seen before. A side that made my protective instincts flare.

“Something happen?” Even as the words escaped my mouth, I wanted them back. I didn’t want to know more about this woman. Didn’t want to feel any sort of understanding for whatever situation had derailed her career. I couldn’t afford to soften. Couldn’t afford to allow her any closer. Couldn’t allow any of that and keep my sanity.

She hesitated. Maybe she didn’t intend to answer. I nodded. Good.

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