Page 14 of Double Puck

Darcy stares at Colin. "You want me to spend seven weeks evaluating him."

"Every measurable inch," Colin says, then winces. "Whoops. Sorry, that came out wrong. Every measurable inch of his professional output. Not his… well… you know."

Darcy’s nostrils flare.

God, she’s hot when she’s frustrated.

My brain does the math instantly, and the math is crazy. Seven weeks of Darcy Madden watching my every move. Seven weeks of those dark eyes on me at practice, at games, at community events.

Seven weeks isn't an audit.

It's seven weeks to convince her, that maybe for the first time in my life, someone might see me as a man worth believing in.

"Fine. I'll do it," Darcy says, turning to me with that devastating smile, "Beck, for the next seven weeks, I'll need complete access to your professional schedule. Mornings, workouts, media. Everything."

I lean back and give her the grin that's gotten me out of trouble since I was old enough to know how to sweet-talk a woman just to hide how I'm really feeling inside.

"Most women buy me dinner before demanding complete access."

Mason closes his eyes like he's praying for a meteor to slam into the arena.

"Meeting's over," Colin announces, already halfway out the door, probably sensing a good wave somewhere. "Oh, and Beck?"

I stumble over my seat as I push up off the table. "Yeah, Boss?"

"We'd like you to attend some sessions with Dr. Poppy Sinclair in the meantime," Colin says. "This… adjustment… could take its toll, and we want to make sure you have the appropriate support if you need it."

My brows furrow. "You want me to go to therapy?"

"Consider it more… wellness support," Colin corrects, already backpedaling. "A well-being plan to help you through this transition phase."

"Non-negotiable," Coach says, pushing past me. "Think of it as… team support."

I think of it as everyone in this room deciding I can't handle my own goddamn life without professional supervision. But whatever.

The meeting breaks like a bad line change. Everyone moving at once, nobody making eye contact with me.

And Darcy? Darcy's already stormed off.

"Hey—Ms. Madden—Darcy!"

I shout down the corridor, but she doesn't stop. Her heels click down the corridor at double-time, tablet hugged to her chest, the sunlight pouring through the glass wall overlooking the ice.

"Fuck, woman. Are you power-walking?" I call after her, jogging to catch up. "In heels?!"

"It's called efficiency. You should try it in the next game."

"Ha ha. Very funny."

I fall into step beside her until she stops outside her office. She digs into the pocket of her blazer for her key card, sending a wave of her perfume flooding over me.

"Anyway, Morrison. As thrilling as this has been, I now have significantly more work to do, and apparently, zero friends to help me. So if you'll excuse me—"

Darcy swipes her card, but she does it too fast and the light flashes red.

"I'm sensing you're upset," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "Is this about Josie? She looked pretty mad back there."

She doesn’t look at me, just drops her bag and tries the card again. "I wasn’t talking about Josie."