ICY GAMES: Falling For The Rival Captain

3.A Listening Kovac

CHAPTER 3: A LISTENING KOVAC.

~KAITLYN~

The first thing I learned about hockey was that the game never really started when the puck dropped.

It started before.

It started in the tunnel when players tightened their gloves and adjusted their helmets.

It started in the way opponents looked at each other across the ice, silently deciding who would break first.

It started in the pressure and tonight, the pressure was everywhere.

The Harbor City Wolves and the Harbor City Reapers had spent fifty years trying to prove they were better than each other.

Tonight, for the first time in history, their best players were wearing the same jersey.

Not permanently. Not emotionally.

But enough for the cameras.

The league had created an exhibition team made up of the strongest players from both franchises to compete against the Chicago Titans in a charity showcase.

It was publicity move or better still, a test.

It was a carefully planned attempt to prove that the shared facility arrangement wasn't the disaster everyone expected.

Personally, I thought the league had a strange definition of "team building."

How could they put two groups of people with decades of resentment in the same room and call it unity?

Apparently, that was how executives solved problems.

I stood behind the bench with my tablet in hand, watching the players take their positions.

Nate Kovac was already on the ice.

And unfortunately, he was impossible to ignore.

Not because he was the captain.

Not because the cameras followed him…but because everyone followed him.

The players adjusted their positioning when he spoke,and looked toward him after every play.

Even the Wolves players who had spent their careers hating his last name listened when he gave instructions.

Leadership wasn't always loud.

Sometimes it was just the person everyone trusted when things went wrong.

And Nate Kovac was that person—I hated admitting it.

Mostly because I was beginning to realize he was not the arrogant, entitled man I had prepared myself for.

He was worse. He was complicated.

The puck dropped and the game began officially.

The first period was surprisingly controlled, almost too controlled as both teams were aware of the cameras.

They knew every mistake would become a headline and every argument would become evidence that the rivalry was impossible to fix.

Nate played like someone who understood exactly what was at stake.

He wasn't reckless or aggressive.

Rather, he was calculated.

Every movement of his had purpose, every pass was intentional and every decision was made seconds before everyone else even saw the opening.

It was frustrating watching someone so talented.

Because it was much easier to dislike someone who deserved it.

"You're impressed."

I looked beside me.

Mason Grant, one of my team's coaches stood near the bench.

"I am evaluating."

He smiled. "That's your favorite word."

"It's an accurate word." I didn't take my eyes off the players at the rink.

"It's also what you say when you don't want to admit something."

I glanced at him over my shoulder even when I shouldn't have said a word to him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure."

I ignored him, but my eyes still followed Nate.

The problem with pressure was that eventually, something always cracked.

The second period had barely started when the Chicago Titans began playing differently.

Harder and more physical.

They’d stopped playing the puck and started playing the players.

The first hit was questionable.

The second was intentional.

The third nearly started a fight.

We all saw it as they didn't even hide it. The referee stepped between them before it escalated.

He successfully got everyone to back down.

Everyone except the player who had taken the hit.

Nate.

He skated toward the Titans' defenseman. The man's name was Ryan Callahan.

A veteran player who knew exactly what he was doing.

"You have something to say?" Callahan asked.

Nate stared at him. "Watch your hits."

Callahan laughed loud and hard into the camera opposite him. "That's cute."

Nate's expression didn't change. "Try playing hockey instead of looking for injuries."

The crowd reacted and Callahan leaned closer.

"You know what I find funny about you Kovacs?"

Something shifted and I noticed.

"Everyone thinks your family is built on greatness." Callahan smiled, but not with his eyes. "Funny how nobody talks about the games that got them there."

The ice went quiet. Not completely, but enough because everyone knew.

Everyone knew the Kovac name wasn't just a name.

It was a legacy.

A burden. And a wound.

Nate didn't move or react. In that moment, the expression on his face was unreadable.

Then Callahan made the mistake of continuing."Maybe your old man should have taught you how to win without cheating."

The next second happened so quickly the cameras almost missed it.

Nate dropped his gloves.

The officials moved forward, the players moved closer as well but nobody stopped them.

Because hockey had its own rules.

Not written ones, but the kind built over decades.

Sometimes, players fought because the fight needed to happen.

Sometimes, teammates let it happen because they knew something had to leave the ice before the game could continue.

But this wasn't normal.

I knew it the second Nate grabbed Callahan's jersey.

This wasn't a fight. It looked like something else. His movements were controlled and in his eyes, I saw the target for something far brutal that a punch.

As he threw his punches to Callahan's face, every punch was carrying years behind it.

The crowd cheered, the commentators shouted and players watched.

And Nate didn't seem to hear any of it. He wasn't seeing Callahan anymore.

He was seeing every person who had ever questioned his name.

His family.

His worth.

"Nate." I didn't know why I said it, maybe because I saw the exact moment he stopped fighting the other player.

And started fighting everything.

When the officials finally pulled them apart, Callahan was laughing but Nate wasn't.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his eyes were distant and that was when I understood something.

Everyone thought Nate Kovac was dangerous because he could fight but they were wrong.

The dangerous part was that he didn't know when to stop.

The rink became chaos.

Coaches, staff, media…. everyone wanted a piece of the moment.

Derek Bishop, his agent appeared almost immediately.

Of course he did. "Nate." The agent moved toward him. "I'll handle this."

Nate didn't respond at all because he was still breathing heavily.

He was still somewhere between anger and adrenaline.

The cameras were already outside and the league would be calling within the hour.

This could destroy him and since my team already merged with his…it could destroy us all.

"Nate." Derek tried to call his name again.

Nothing.

I walked forward, everyone looked at me but I cared less.

"Move." I said to Derek.

He looked at me, wondering if I'd lost my senses all of a sudden and in reality, I didn't know if I already had. "Excuse me?"

"I said move."

His expression hardened. "Miss Sterling, this is not the time."

"No."I looked at Nate. "This is exactly the time."

I grabbed Nate's arm gently.

His eyes finally focused. "Sterling."

"We're heading to the locker room. Now."

A few players stared,but nobody moved.

Not because they didn't want to but because they were watching.

The Wolves' director ordering around the Reapers' captain should have been impossible.

Yet somehow, nobody questioned it.

Nate looked down at my hand around his arm and then back at my face. "You always this controlling?"

"Only when people are making stupid decisions."

For some reason, that almost made him smile.

Then he followed me.

The locker room door closed behind us and we…no, I could finally breathe in a place that didn't have a single camera trying to get a photo of whatever had happened.

Nate immediately turned. "You had no right."

I crossed my arms, my eyes darting at his. "I had every right, Captain."

"You dragged me away like I was a child."

"No." I stepped closer, very close that my crossed arms brushed his upper chest. "I dragged you away like you were about to destroy everything you've spent your entire life building."

His jaw tightened. "You don't understand."

"You're right." I nodded. "I don't understand what it feels like to be Nathan Kovac."

The use of his first name caught him. "But I understand what it feels like to spend your entire life trying to prove you're more than a last name."

His expression changed slightly. "Don't compare yourself to me." His tone clipped in masculinity.

"I'm not." I shook my head, holding his gaze. "I'm telling you that your name is supposed to be something you carry."

I heaved a sigh.

"Not something that controls you."

The room went quiet and then the door opened as Derek stepped inside. "I think that's enough."

I turned to him. "No."

He frowned like I'd just questioned every right he had to interfere "No?"

"No. Right now, he doesn't need someone protecting the Kovac reputation."

Derek's expression cooled."Be careful, Sterling. Why are even here?"

I glanced at Nate, unfolding my arms. "Because his responsibility isn't to protect a name."

Then I looked back at Derek. "It's to protect the people who trust him."

Nobody spoke. Not even Nate.

Because for the first time tonight, someone wasn't telling him to be a Kovac.

They were telling him to be better.

I picked up my tablet. "Tomorrow morning, you're issuing an apology, Nathan Kovac"

He stared at me like he wasn't expecting any of the words I said. "You don't give me orders."

A small smile pulled at my mouth. "There he is."

His eyes narrowed."What?"

"The Kovac who argues." I walked toward the door. "Good. That one thinks."

I left before he could respond.

But I felt his eyes on me the entire way down the hallway.

And for the first time since meeting Nate Kovac… I wasn't sure whether winning an argument with him felt better.

Or getting him to listen.