Practice should’ve cleared my head. It didn’t. Not when the team owner pulled me into his office afterward, shutting the door like he was about to deliver bad news. He didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t even bring up the fight from last week. He just looked at me with that tight, careful expression people use when they’re trying not to step on a landmine. “Evan,” he said, “we need you focused.”
“I am focused.”
He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe a word of it. “You’re our captain. The Cup finals are days away. The media is circling your girlfriend, the rink is under investigation, and you’re spending more time dealing with security than you are on the ice.”
I clenched my jaw. “I’m not backing off Lena.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he said gently. “I’m asking you stay focu
