Page 94 of Slap Shot Scandal
I’ve made hockey my mission, careful never to let anything compete.
Now? I’m fucking terrified to find out what wins if I’m forced to choose.
CHAPTER 26
HARBOR
It’s been over forty-eight hours since Weston slipped out of my hotel room, and I still feel the whisper of him everywhere.
His hands, his mouth, his body.
Touching me, holding me, kissing me.
I can’t get him out of my mind.
Don’t want to get him out.
But there’s no room for that today.
Today’s all team polos, smiling for the cameras, and pretending like nothing’s happening between us.
This morning, it’s all about Hockey with Heart—not the man who’s starting to take up too much space in mine.
“Harbor! Where do you want this banner?” One of the admins holds up the new Hockey with Heart banner I designed, shaking the white-and-blue fabric.
“Hanging over there.” I point to the center wall of the rink.
“On it.” She scurries away, and I take a deep, cleansing breath.
In less than an hour, Driftwood Cove’s youth hockey league will be here for the clinic hosted by the Coastal Crushers. Every player’s involved, plus the new coach. And of course, Mr. Prince will be standing on the sideline watching my every move.
Somehow, this event feels more monumental than any presser we’ve had so far. All eyes will be on me—and Weston.
The thought’s not comforting.
“Hello, hello.” Mr. Prince squeezes my shoulder from behind, startling me. I jump about a foot in the air—thank god I’m not wearing heels, or I would’ve definitely faceplanted.
“Hi. Everything’s all set up for the clinic.” I gesture to the ice, at the orange cones and small extra goals I requested for the occasion. “I asked Coach Keller to have the team show up about thirty minutes beforehand so I could give them a few pointers on dealing with the kids and the media. And they have sufficient warm-up time, of course.”
“Super.” Prince shoots me a wide grin, clearly pleased. “I’m loving the direction this rebrand is heading. The sponsors are happy—early ticket sales are on track to keep pace with last season. A big feat, considering we relocated to a much smaller market. Well done.”
Warm happiness seeps through me, loosening some of the built-up tension.
“I’m so glad to hear. After today, I anticipate merch sales going up as well. Having the new mascots, Riptide and Lil Rip, at the clinic today is going to drive those sales. Couple that with gifting every youth player a T-shirt, plus tickets to Family Night. We’re building the fanbase, starting now.”
“No—we’ve already started. The ESPN interview with Weston was so strong, I had other owners calling and asking how I did it. And I have you to thank for that, Harbor. You’ve taken a bad situation and managed to turn things around.”
My cheeks heat at his praise and a rush of relief rolls through me.
Good first period. But you haven’t won the game yet.
Of course my father’s voice intrudes on my happiness. Always reminding me I’m not good enough.
“Thanks, Mr. Prince. Still work to be done, though.” I smile and try to ignore the nagging feeling of not doing enough, being enough.
Players begin rolling into the arena, laughing and talking to each other.
And there’s Weston, suited up in his gear, helmet in hand. Looking as gorgeous as ever.
