Page 49 of Dirty As Puck
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” I begin, voice neutral, but my heart is pounding.
Jake crosses his arms but doesn’t step back. “Depends on the questions,” he says evenly, though there’s a guarded edge. “I’m not giving you anything that’ll paint Kai the wrong way.”
“I’m not looking for that,” I assure him, though part of me knows Marcus Webb would kill for some dirt. “I want to understand him better. You know, his upbringing, leadership on the team and character stuff.”
Jake studies me for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. But keep it real. Kai’s got layers most people don’t see. You write him wrong, you’re writing a lie.”
I smile faintly, scribbling notes as I ask the first question, “Do you know what he was like as a kid?”
Jake shakes his head. “I didn’t know him back then, but from what I’ve heard, Kai was very protective, stubborn, the type to stick up for anyone who needed it, even if it got him into trouble. He didn’t just survive foster care, he made a way for others to survive it too.”
My pen hovers over the page. “Others?” I ask, intrigued.
He glances around the empty hallway, lowers his voice slightly. “Kai funds transitional housing for kids aging out of the system. He’s discreet about it, but he makes sure they have a place to go, help with college, work, anything they need to get on their feet.”
My breath catches. That’s not what I was expecting. The headlines paint him as selfish, bad-boy material, a player in every sense. And yet here’s a version of him none of that covers. The generous, deliberate, and quietly heroic version of him.
I press on, carefully framing my questions. “And on the team? How does he lead?”
Jake smirks slightly. “He’s strict but fair. Pushes people to do better, but never in a way that makes them feel small. And he notices when someone’s struggling. He’s not just about winning games. He wants everyone to win, in life and on the ice.”
I scribble more notes, my head spinning. The more he talks, the more the ‘bad boy’ narrative crumbles. My professional instincts clash with the growing sense that I’ve been chasing a story that doesn’t exist. Kai isn’t a headline for scandal. He’s a person. A man with depth, integrity, and a quiet compassion that no scandal should ever maim.
Jake’s eyes meet mine again, sharp and assessing. “You understand what you’re hearing, right? You can’t just make it sound like a story for clicks. This isn’t for the press. It’s about him.”
I nod, feeling the weight of responsibility settle in my chest. Part of me wants to push for more, to dig, to get something Marcus Webb would call ‘juicy.’ But another, louder part of me, the part that’s been on edge since the locker room, the part that knows Kai beyond the headlines knows that the real story isn’t scandalous. And maybe… it’s better that way.
My phone rings loudly, dragging me out of my thoughts. The name on the screen makes my stomach tighten. Marcus Webb.
“Winters,” his voice snaps the moment I answer. “Where’s the story? I need dirt, something on Morrison. You’re wasting more time than is necessary. “
I run a hand through my hair, keeping my tone steady even as panic grows inside me. “I’m still working on it, Marcus. Gathering details, cross-checking and trying to make sure my information is accurate.”
He huffs, impatient, the kind of impatience that usually sends me sprinting to meet deadlines I don’t have. “Accurate? Winters, I don’t want boring, useless news. I want the real dirt. Thekind of thing readers can’t scroll past. Time’s running out. Don’t make me wait.”
I bite back a sigh, forcing calm into my voice. “I understand. I’m on it.”
He grunts and ends the call, leaving me staring at the silent phone, heart racing. I feel the tug-of-war in my chest between the professional urgency, the loyalty to my job, the personal pull I’ve tried so hard to ignore.
My gaze drifts to the images I’ve compiled, photos of Kai with the foster kids, hospital visits, the bar fight research, all of it contradicting the story Marcus wants. The more I dig, the clearer it becomes that the man I’ve been chasing scandal about isn’t who the press or even Marcus, claims he is.
I run a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. Lying to Marcus buys me time, but the tension doesn’t lift. Each call, each request feels like a knife at the edge of my conscience.
Kai’s face flashes in my mind. The line of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze and the moments we’ve shared. Protecting his secrets has never felt more important and I realize that staying objective is becoming impossible.
My career is riding on this, and yet, I can’t bring myself to betray him.
I sink back into the chair with my laptop open, the glow of the screen harsh against the dim morning light. My fingers hover over the keys, but I’m not typing. Instead, I’m scrolling, digging deeper into every scrap of information I can find about Kai. Every headline I’ve read, every “bad boy” narrative pushed by the media, feels like a lie waiting to be torn apart. It’s the samestuff I’ve looked through, but I look again just in case I missed something. Instead, I stop researching the bad headlines. I need to dig for the good.
One link leads to another, and I see photos of Kai visiting children’s hospitals, quiet gestures of encouragement, small gifts handed with that subtle smile that somehow reaches his eyes. Then there are the articles detailing anonymous donations to foster programs, funding for transitional housing for kids aging out of the system.
Names of former foster children he’s helped flash across pages, their gratitude quietly documented on unpopular sites. Even his teammate’s interviews confirm it, that Kai isn’t just generous. He is relentless about giving back.
I lean closer to the screen, my pulse picking up. In one photo, Kai crouches beside a young girl hooked up to IVs, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Her eyes light up in a mix of relief and joy. Another shows him handing supplies to a group of teens at a community center. Every click, every new image I find pulls me further into the reality I can’t ignore. The man I’ve been chasing for scandal is not the selfish, arrogant figure Marcus has demanded I expose.
My chest tightens. Each discovery is like a punch to my gut and a reminder that my story, the one Marcus wants, is built on lies. And yet, the truth, the real Kai, is here in these images. I can’t unsee it. I can’t justify twisting it into a narrative that would betray him.
I lean back, staring at a photo of him with a boy no older than twelve, the kid laughing as Kai adjusts a hockey helmet on his head. My fingers twitch, torn between recording this truth for the story and protecting the man who’s risked everythingwithout anyone knowing. The weight of my choice presses into me like a physical force.
