Page 154 of Game Misconduct
A flicker of softness. Of heat. Ofus.
But she stays cool. Regal. Unshakable.
And I hate how much I still want her anyway.
Coach Holt steps forward, clearing his throat, and the spellsnaps.
“All right, gentlemen. Eyes up.”
Coach Holt steps back with a nod. “Carrington’s got a few words before we hit the ice.”
Sloane moves forward. Not rushed. Not timid. Justcertain.Like she’s done this a hundred times.
Like there isn’t a room full of men and steel and sweat watching her every move.
I swallow hard.
She stops at the front of the room, coat open, hands loose at her sides.
“First off,” she says, voice calm and clear, “thank you. I know this season hasn’t been easy.”
No one dares move. Even Riley shuts up. Her voice is silk over steel. Cool, polished, but carrying weight.
“You’ve shown up. You’ve played hard. You’ve put wins on the board. And I see it. I appreciate it.”
She lets that hang for a beat. Then shifts.
“But I won’t lie to you.”
My chest tightens.
“This team is being watched. Not just by fans. Not just by the media. But by people with influence. People who think I don’t belong here.”
There’s a rustle—chairs adjusting, gear creaking.
She breathes once. Then lays it down.
“If we don’t make playoffs this yearandnext—if we don’t start building a Cup-worthy reputation now—those people will use it as justification to pull this franchise out from under me.”
The silence is total.
My jaw locks. I didn’t know that part. She never told me.
Another truth she kept in that glass-and-gold vault of hers.
And I hate how much it fucking hurts.
Especially when I laid my cards out to her.
She nods toward the center of the room, eyes sweeping thespace. “That means every penalty matters. Every fight. Every headline. It’s all ammunition—for or against.”
Her gaze cuts sharper now. “So stay clean. Stay sharp. Keep playing like the whole damn league is watching—because they are.”
That twist in my gut pulls tighter. Because she’s not just talking tothem. She’s talking tomeas well.
And I still don’t know if I failed her by doing too little, or by walking away when I should’ve held on.
She exhales slowly, tone softening just a notch. “Now, on to something a little more festive.”
