Page 10 of Dirty As Puck
“His reputation suggests he might be challenging to work with.”
Jake’s smile becomes more guarded. “Look, Kai’s not an easy guy to know. He keeps to himself, does his job, doesn’t socialize much with the team. But he’s reliable on the ice.”
Reliable. Not exactly a glowing character reference.
“What about off the ice?”
“What about it?”
The shift in Jake’s tone tells me I’ve hit a boundary. Kai’s teammates might be willing to give professional assessments, but they’re not going to serve up personal details for my story.
They’re protecting him.
“Thanks for your time,” I tell Jake, already planning my next move.
I interview three more players over the next hour, but the pattern is consistent. Polite cooperation, professional responses, and an absolute wall when it comes to personal details about Kai Morrison. They’ll discuss his playing style, his role on the team, his effectiveness as a defenseman. But anything that ventures into character territory gets shut down fast.
Either Kai has the loyalty of saints, or they’re all afraid of him.
West Carmack gives me technical analysis of Kai’s defensive positioning. Reed Hendrix talks about power play strategies. Cameron Gray discusses penalty kill formations. Hurley only talks about himself. All hockey, no personality, no insight into who Kai actually is when he’s not on the ice.
Professional courtesy or damage control?
I’m packing up my recorder when heavy footsteps echo in the hallway behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is - I can feel Kai’s presence like a storm front moving in.
“Enjoying your fact-finding mission?” His voice is low and dangerous, with an edge that makes my pulse jump.
I turn slowly, keeping my expression neutral even though my heart is racing. Kai is standing closer than necessary, still in his practice gear, looking like he could bench press a truck without breaking a sweat.
Don’t let him see that he affects you.
“Just doing my job,” I say. “Getting to know the team.”
“By pumping my teammates for information about me?”
“By talking to players about hockey. If you have a problem with standard sports journalism practices, maybe you should take it up with the league office.”
His jaw tightens. “Standard sports journalism. Is that what you call manipulating people into giving you quotes you can spin however you want?”
Manipulating?“I don’t need to manipulate anyone. Your reputation speaks for itself.”
“My reputation is exactly the problem.”
Kai steps closer, and suddenly the hallway feels smaller. He’s using his size to intimidate me, probably expecting me to back down like most people probably do when faced with six feet four inches of pure man.
Not happening.
I hold my ground, tilting my chin up to meet his glare directly.
He tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes looking intently at him, almost like he is trying to figure me out, then I see a tick on his jaw before he speaks, “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Try me, hockey boy.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I immediately regret the flippant nickname. Kai’s eyes narrow, then drop to my mouth for just a second before snapping back to my eyes.
Oh.
The air between us shifts, becoming charged with something that has nothing to do with professional antagonism. Kai’s hand starts to rise, like he’s about to touch my face, and my breath catches.
