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We skate towards the center of the rink to shake hands with the opposing team. The sting of defeat is sharp, but I know it’ll only fuel our hunger for redemption in the games to come.
As we slowly make our way off the ice, a fan calls out from the sidelines, surrounded by a group of his friends. “Hey Blaze! Maybe next time, aim for the net!”
“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, trying to brush it off.
“Maybe then you’ll actually score a goal instead of melting under pressure like the flaming failure that you are!” The taunting words cut through the air like a knife.
Blaze’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and anger. But before he can respond, I step in front of him, blocking his view of the heckler.
“Hey, why don’t you come down here and say that to our faces,” I challenge, my voice low and dangerous.
The heckler hesitates for a moment, taken aback by the sudden confrontation. But then, with a cocky grin, he starts to make his way down from the stands, fueled by liquid courage and a desire to show off in front of his friends.
I stand my ground, ready to defend my team and protect Blaze from any further insults.
“What’s the matter, can’t handle a little friendly banter?” he taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance.
I take a step forward. “There’s a fine line between banter and disrespect. You’ve crossed that line.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” He scoffs, puffing out his chest and looking past me to Blaze.
“You think it’s easy out there on the ice? You think you can do better?” Blaze calls out.
“I think anyone could do better than you. You worthless piece of—”
At those words, I see red.
Chapter Two
Cameron
“This is a disaster.” Frankie folds her arms across her chest, shooting icy daggers at me.
I mimic her stance, crossing my arms as well. “It was unavoidable.”
My eyes flicker to the video that’s been playing on repeat for the past several minutes before looking back at my public relations manager.
Frankie’s eyes widen. “You punched a fan!” She throws her hands in the air, the gray streaks in her hair looking a little more pronounced this morning.
“You should’ve heard what they said about Blaze,” I rebuttal. “If I had to go back, I’d still knock the guy’s lights out—maybe a little harder than I did the first time.”
My lawyer, Tucker, groans but doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I look over at him, exasperated.
Everyone in the room is now staring at me—all wearing the same shade of disappointment.
“How do you people not understand? My teammates are my family,” I say before gesturing toward the video loop. “And this guy—this guy had it coming when he said Blaze was worthless. He’s obviously not even a real fan—if he was, he wouldn’t have said that.”
“People can say whatever they want,” Frankie snaps, her eyes flaming with enough frustration to burn a hole right in the center of my head. “You’re a public figure, Cameron. Regardless of what anyone says, you’re expected to respond with grace and silence.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“A punch says a lot more than words ever could,” Tucker finally speaks up, his voice flat. “And we’re lucky Richard Normans isn’t pressing charges over it. We could’ve been in a lot hotter water if he had.”
“Well, lucky me, then,” I grunt, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Besides, I’m sure the guy enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame.”
“We’ve written a statement for you.” Frankie slides a piece of paper across the table toward me. “We plan to release it to the media, but it would mean a lot more if it came directly from you.”
