“Cole, the team has won four of the last six games. What's working right now?”
Cole leans into his microphone, every inch the captain. “We're playing disciplined hockey. Everyone's bought into the system, and the results speak for themselves.”
Questions are addressed to other players, and I start to relax.
The questions flow about team dynamics, upcoming games, and individual performance. Standard stuff. Then a reporter in the third row locks eyes on me.
“Nova, there were photos of you during All-Star weekend at several clubs with different women. Some people are questioning whether that's appropriate behavior. What's your response?”
I take a breath. “I'm twenty-six years old. I have a social life. But I also recognize that my actions reflect on this organization and my teammates.” Usually, I laugh at these kinds of questions.
“Moving forward, my focus is where it should be. On hockey and on making a positive impact in the community.”
“Speaking of community,” another reporter jumps in, “we saw the Instagram posts this morning about you rescuing six puppies. That's quite a turnaround. Tell us about that.”
Relief washes through me. This is the pivot Avery planned for.
I shrug and repeat the story of how I came to adopt the puppies. There are a few laughs, including from Avery, when I give them a snapshot of the chaos of the first night.
“Are you keeping all six?”
I can’t help but smile just thinking about them. “That’s the plan. I've hired a professional dog sitter to help when I'm traveling or at practice, and they're adjusting well. They're a handful, but they're worth it.”
“That's quite a commitment for someone with your lifestyle and travel schedule.”
“It is. But some things are worth the commitment.” The words come out before I can stop them, and my eyes drift to Avery without meaning to.
She's looking down at her tablet.
The questions continue for another fifteen minutes. When it's over, Jennifer thanks the media, and I escape to the hallway where Avery is waiting.
“You did well,” she says without looking up. “You stayed on message. The puppy story is a hit.”
“All according to plan.”
“It was a good outcome.” She finally glances up. “I'll monitor the coverage throughout the day and send you a summary this afternoon.”
“Avery.” I step closer, lowering my voice so passing staff can't hear. “I miss you. Sunday night wasn't just sex for me. It meant something.”
“It can't mean something,” she hisses. “Why can't you let this go? Why are you making my job harder than it already is?”
The frustration in her voice and the way she's looking at me like I'm some kind of pest snaps something inside me.
Fuck it. I'm done begging. Done trying to convince someone who doesn’t want to be convinced.
“Consider it dropped.”
I turn and walk away before she can respond. Jake finds me in the parking garage, leaning against my car and staring at nothing.
“Hey,” he says. “You busy? I want to go look at cars. Thinking about trading in the BMW.”
“Now?”
“Why not? We're done for the day.” He studies my face. “Plus, you look like you could use a distraction.”
He's not wrong. “Yeah, alright. Let's go.”
We take my Audi since Jake's car is on its last legs. His words, not mine. I navigate through Manhattan traffic while Jake scrolls through dealership websites on his phone.
