Page 40 of Home of the Brave

“And blocking shots,” Hartman added.

I rolled my eyes and tied my skates.

I dragged my feet after practice, taking my time stretching and taking an ice bath before showering and changing. I was one of the last to leave the locker room, so I hoped I had planned it right.

The press room was nearly empty of players, and I spotted Victoria leaning against a wall. Before I could change my mind, I went straight to her.

“Hey.”

She jerked, like I’d surprised her, and lowered her phone. “Josh, hi.”

I glanced around. Cambrie was watching us, so I nodded my head toward the back of the room. “Can we talk? Off the record?”

“Sure.” She slid her phone into her back pocket, and we moved far enough away not to be overheard. “I really appreciate the effort you put into those snacks.”

Her eyes brightened. “Oh, it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t. It had to have been a lot of work, and I want you to know I appreciate it. You’ve proven you meant your apology, and I wanted to explain.”

“You don’t have to. That article––”

“Please?” I interrupted. “I want you to know.”

She nodded.

“I printed it and have it hanging in my apartment, the article.” She grimaced, but I continued. “It was a reminder that I’m never as good as I think. That I can’t get complacent, because there’s always someone better waiting to replace me.”

“Josh, I’m so sorry. I hate that my name was ever attached to anything so cruel.”

“I know.” I didn’t blame her, not anymore. “You interviewed me for two hours.” I reminded her, not knowing whether she remembered.

She bit her lip and nodded.

“I thought it went well.” I spend endless nights running our conversation through my head, trying to figure out how I’d gotten it so messed up. How I could leave feeling confident, only to read her words weeks later.

“It did.” She closed her eyes. “It really did.” She blinked up at me. “You were kind and well-spoken and optimistic. You played well in practice.” She brushed her dark hair over her shoulder. “To be honest, I forgot about it. Mostly because I wanted to forget about the stupid series and hoped if enough time passed, all the players would too. But that’s why you avoided me at the Olympics?”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

She frowned. “I didn’t.”

Her admission surprised me. I thought she'd at least play it up like she had tried.

“To be fair, I was really focused on the women's teams. There were enough of us there that I sort of called dibs and let my colleagues work with you guys. Most of the interviews I got with the guys happened during meals and hanging out. I didn’t really seek them out.”

That made some sense. There were reporters everywhere you turned, and I didn’t exactly notice her not interviewing me either.

“Then why aren't you working with the women's teams now?”

Her smile slipped away. “It got reassigned when my bosses found out there’d be more coverage on them.”

“Reassigned to him?” I pointed to a screen in the corner that was showing the East’s captain and an overly tanned guy I sort of recognized. Thursday night football, maybe?

“Yes,” she bit out after giving the TV the briefest glance. “I want to make it up to you. I can write a glowing review of your performance during the tournament.”

“Only if it’s the truth,” I countered.

She looked up at me with a small smile. “It is.”