Breaking News: My hockey EX wants me back!

The testosterone-filled air was a reminder of where I was. My work badge glowed in the blue light of my desk. I sat in my swivel chair and spun slowly, watching the overhead lights blur. I had fought so hard to get in as an intern at Sports Magazine, and now that I was here… I didn’t know how to feel. There were seven interns in my work area when we started. Five had already been disqualified. Sports Magazine was well known in New York. Being associated with them was a privilege. Many tried to get in. Few succeeded. I thought my talent for photography, my mischievousness, and my interviewing skills would be enough, but I was wrong. No one said anything directly, but the curious and slightly judgmental looks around me said plenty. This wasn’t my place—at least, that’s what they wanted me to believe. Right now, it was down to two of us for the permanent position. Matthew Stuar, a Columbia University graduate with money, charm, and all the right last names… And me, a small-town girl from Vermont who moved to New York after winning a scholarship. I had spent college chasing perfect grades and working part-time jobs so I wouldn’t be a burden to my parents. Still, I never seemed to get ahead. “Well, well, look who’s still here.” Matthew’s raspy voice made me look up. Every time he opened his mouth, it was to belittle me. “I thought they’d kicked you out already. Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” I stopped spinning and stared at him. Matthew was the definition of sin personified—gray eyes like cold fog, black hair like charcoal, and a personality as disgusting as a toilet. I’d heard he personally made sure the other female interns left. I was the last one standing. But being the only sister of four brothers had trained me well. His comments? Just background noise. “Matthew, your comments are as pathetic as your personality,” I replied calmly. “And when I get you kicked out of this place, I’ll laugh so hard you’ll hear me all the way in China.” His face twitched, just for a second. He stepped closer, closing the space between us. His eyes scanned me like he wanted to erase me from the planet. I raised an eyebrow. “You still think you’ll get this position?” he said, his voice eerily calm. “Please. You have no connections. And you’re a woman. Women don’t last here. They don’t get recognition, and they don’t belong in sports journalism. You’d be better off writing about shoes and makeup.” His words made me chuckle. I opened my mouth to deliver a response that would absolutely ruin him when a new voice interrupted us. “If you keep talking like that…” The voice was serene. Steady. Confident. “…I doubt you’ll get the job. Our bosses don’t tolerate harassment, gender aside.” I turned toward the voice, and there he was. Josiah McGain. Eyes brown like honey. A smile so calm, just being near him felt like safety. Shelter in a storm. Josiah, one of the magazine’s most respected journalists. The one who always got the best scoops. For two months, working for minimum wage, he had taken it upon himself to mentor me and teach me what no classroom ever could. They said experience was the best university, and Josiah was proof. “Josiah,” Matthew said quickly, “I was just chatting with my good friend Abigail.” He ruffled my hair, and I held back the urge to swat his hand. “Isn’t that right, Abigail?” Josiah’s gaze flicked to me. He was waiting. Giving me the chance to say the truth. I smiled weakly. “He was just saying hello. It’s nothing.” Matthew grinned like he’d just won an award and strutted off. Josiah’s eyes stayed on him, unreadable, calculating. “I’m going to report him,” he said quietly, finally looking back at me. “No, don’t,” I said. “I’m going to beat him by getting this job. I don’t want it to feel like I got it by reporting him. It’ll be way more satisfying to see him cry on the floor when he realizes a woman took his dream job.” “You’re very competitive,” he said, sitting casually at my desk. “Yeah. This is my dream too. And I’m fighting tooth and nail for it.” He smiled softly, like something about my answer pleased him. “I’ll be happy if you win,” he said. “That way, we’d get to work together.” I hesitated. “More than anything… I know Edward would be proud to see his mom following her dreams.” His gaze lifted to mine. That warm, caramel stare settled on me, and for a moment, it felt like something shifted. Like he wasn’t just looking at a mentee anymore, but something more. Something I wasn’t ready to name. Before I could say anything, the director’s secretary appeared at my side. “Miss Russell? Mr. Ruffin would like to see you now.” My heart jolted. I knew what this was about. Our final projects. The ones that would determine if we stayed or not. If I didn’t get this job, I’d find another magazine. But none would ever compare. This one had always been the dream. I said goodbye to Josiah and headed toward the office. Mr. Taylor Ruffin’s office was clean, elegant, and cold in a classy way. White walls. High-end furniture. Art chosen with precision. But the photographs of famous athletes on the walls gave the room some life. They made it feel like someone here cared. “Miss Russell,” he said, standing and offering his hand. I shook it as he gestured for me to sit. “Thank you for calling me,” I said, doing my best to sound confident. “We’ve reviewed your performance,” he said in a neutral tone. “The assistant director. The department heads. They all agree you’re someone we’d like to keep on the team.” My heart pounded so loudly I barely heard the rest. “That said,” he continued, “we have a final assignment for you. As we do with all potential hires. I hope you understand.” “Of course,” I said. “Completely.” “Mr. Stuar will be covering a football player. Interview, game coverage, photographs. You’ll do the same. But we’re assigning you one of the top players on the New York Rangers.” I sat up straighter. The Rangers were at their peak. A solid interview with one of them could change my entire career. “You’ll be following their new center. He just transferred from the Flyers. He’s on fire right now, and we want something exclusive. Why he changed teams. What makes him different. What no one else knows. Bring me that story, and I’ll offer you a permanent position next month. Full salary.” I could barely stay still. “That sounds incredible,” I said, trying not to scream. “Good. You’ll be assigned to Mr. Ethan Ice. He’s the most sought-after player right now. A few journalists have tried to get an exclusive. None have succeeded. I sent four of my best people.” He paused. “And now, I’m sending you. Impress me, and the job is yours.” He kept talking. But I didn’t hear a word after that. Ethan Ice. The same Ethan I met in college. The same Ethan who made me believe in love. The same Ethan who disappeared… …on our wedding day. The same Ethan Ice who, without knowing it, had become the father of my son