Page 53 of Faking the Shot
“Don’t,” he snaps, his voice low and bitter. “Don’t stand there and tell me this wasn’t part of the plan. I should’ve known better.”
He turns on his heel, heading toward the locker room. I follow, my chest tightening as he grabs his bag and starts shoving his things inside with jerky, furious movements.
“Kaden, please, just let me explain,” I plead, my voice trembling as I watch him.
He doesn’t even look at me, his words clipped as he zips his bag shut. “There’s nothing to explain, Valentina. I trusted you. I let my guard down. That’s on me.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, his voice rising, raw and full of anger. “You’re fucking fired,” he snarls, each word hitting like a slap. “You hear me? You’re done. I’ll make sure no one in this business, or any other, hires you again. Not even for a volunteer gig. You’re over.”
The air between us is suffocating. I can’t speak, can’t defend myself. His words hang in the air like a death sentence.
And with that, he turns and storms out toward the parking lot, leaving me standing there, stunned and utterly alone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kaden
Fix the Problem, Find the Solution
The ice feels like home.
This is all I need.
I glide from side to side, my skates cutting clean lines as I warm up for practice. After the shitshow of an interview last week, I’ve thrown myself into every drill, every conditioningsession, whether we’re on the road or at home. I’ve spent hours in the gym, pushing my body harder than ever, and even more hours on the ice, trying to drown out the noise and focus on what I can control.
Today, I’m at the team’s practice facility, the familiar sounds of skates slicing the ice and pucks hitting sticks grounding me. The rink is quiet now, just a few of us here early, but the energy lingers in the air like it’s waiting to ignite.
This is why I’m here. This is what matters.
I circle around, my legs moving on instinct as my thoughts drift. That interview stirred up shit I haven’t thought about in years. It’s not the first time someone’s brought up my parents, and I know it won’t be the last. Their relationship has always been a topic people tried to dissect or twist, as if they couldn’t believe two men could raise a family as loving and as functional as mine.
But I’ve never hidden who they are. My dads love each other the way parents are supposed to—with loyalty, kindness, and a bond no one could break. I don’t understand why that’s so hard for people to accept.
I skate harder, letting the rhythm of movement settle my mind, and take a shot at the empty net. The puck sails cleanly into the corner, and a small sense of satisfaction builds in my chest. I’ve got a lot to prove—on the ice and off it—and this is where it starts.
I keep moving, gliding into a few more laps as I take in the other players warming up. Things are . . . better. Not perfect, but better. It’s been a hell of an uphill battle to get to this point, and even now, I can’t shake the feeling that the team still sees me as the outsider. The guy who showed up to take over, to rip the captain’s patch right off their jersey.
But that’s not why I’m here.
I’m here for the Cup. To retire in a couple of years alongside my dad’s legacy. And if I do it right—if I play like I’m supposed to—my jersey will go up in the rafters next to his.
That’s the dream.
I skate over to Linus, stopping just short of bumping into him. He doesn’t even bother to meet my eyes.
“How’s the form coming along? Still practicing?” My tone is neutral, but it’s clear I’m not sugarcoating anything.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Linus snaps, glaring at me. “You’re acting like I’m the problem here. I’m just playing my game—same as always.”
I cross my arms, holding his stare. “Your game needs work. If you can’t handle feedback from someone with years more experience, maybe you shouldn’t be here. There are thousands of players out there who’d kill for your spot.”
Linus’s eyes narrow, his face flushing with anger. “Who the hell do you think you are? Just because your parents were legends doesn’t mean you’re the same. All you do is ride their damn coattails.”
That hits a nerve. My hands clench into fists, but before I can say anything, the whistle blows.
“Kaden. Get over here.” Coach’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
I let out a loud breath, unclenching my fists, and skate away from Linus. Coach doesn’t wait for me to respond; he’s already walking toward the locker room.
