Page 18 of Broken As Puck

Max, who’d largely remained silent, cleared his throat. “Would it be possible for us to watch their practice for a while before we leave? I’d like to get an idea of where I might like to place cameras and how best to approach the first days of filming.”

“That’s a great idea.” Stella stood and smoothed her blazer. “Chelsey, why don’t you escort them down and see that they have what they need?”

I pressed my lips together, not thrilled to be going nearer to Matt again but aware it made sense for me to accompany them. “Of course. Do you need to bring any equipment inside from your vehicle?”

Max shook his head. “Not at the moment. I just want to scope it out.”

Stella said a quick goodbye, and I led the others down the stairs into the main part of the stadium. I suggested we sit in the stands, but Max insisted it would be more useful to be as close to the action as possible. Which, of course, meant as close to Matt as possible.

I hovered beside Max as he and Patrick exchanged ideas. Kim seemed preoccupied with something on her phone and didn’t participate in the conversation. For the most part, I didn’t either, unless Max wanted to know whether particular camera positions or angles were feasible.

Because they didn’t need my active participation, I kept getting distracted by Matt. The players were engaged in a game, and he was zipping all over the defensive zone, stopping the puck whenever it came close.

He was so damn competent. It would be too easy to fall into the role of being his personal cheerleader, like I used to when we were together.

“Harris, Kelly, and Young are playing well together,” Max observed.

I turned toward him. “Are you a hockey fan?”

I didn’t know whether this crew was personally invested in the sport or if this was just a job to them.

“I am.” He flashed me a grin that showed one crooked incisor. “I love all sports, but hockey is my favorite. I used to play in a rec league until my knees gave up on me.”

“Who do you support?” I was curious whether he’d abandoned the Chaos as many other fans had during their terrible past few years.

He chuckled. “These guys, believe it or not. I always knew they could be a decent team if they had the right coach and got rid of that showboat Connor Taggert as captain. He cared too much about looking good for the cameras and not enough about how the team performed. My friends said I was crazy to keep supporting a losing team, but I told them things would change one day.”

I laughed, disarmed by his honesty. “Hopefully, this is the year, then.”

While I had no personal stake in how far the team went—my only job was to improve their public image and do whatever I could to fulfil the requirements of the probationary order—it would be nice to see them do better. For the most part, they seemed like decent guys, and from what I’d heard around the office, the previous coach had been borderline abusive.

My heart twinged as my gaze found Matt again. I didn’t like the thought of him in a toxic environment. Not after he’d worked so hard to make something of himself.

“Matthews is in good form too,” Max said, following my gaze.

I flinched, my cheeks heating at the realization I’d been caught. At least he seemed to think I’d been watching Matt for professional reasons.

“He is,” I conceded reluctantly.

Coach Dunn blew his whistle and gestured for the players to cluster around him. I was surprised when he turned toward us and spoke loudly enough for us to hear. “This is the documentary crew who will be following us this season. Chelsey, would you be kind enough to make introductions?”

I nodded, refusing to focus on the fact that all the players were now staring at me. Attention was something I’d had to get used to in my line of work. It wasn’t as if I was out there giving speeches all the time, but they were occasionally called for.

“This gentleman beside me is Max Prescott, the videographer. Next to him is Patrick Stone, the director, and to his right is Kim Johns, the producer. Others may be involved, but these are the three you’ll see around most often.”

Patrick cleared his throat. “Feel free to come up and ask questions if you have them. We’d like this to be a collaborative effort.”

“I’ll give you five minutes for a meet-and-greet but no longer. We don’t want your muscles getting cold,” Coach Dunn said.

Many of the players hung back, but a few approached. Most addressed their questions to Patrick, but a few introduced themselves to everyone. I noticed Nick Kelly giving Kim his and Austin’s phone numbers in case she had any production-related questions. I smiled to myself, pleased that at least some of the team were fully on board with our plans.

As the players dispersed onto the ice, Matt lingered, talking with Patrick. His eyes flicked to me every few seconds, as if gauging whether I was paying him any attention.

“Do you need help with anything?” Matt asked him as I scooted slightly closer under the guise of donning a jacket. It was slightly cold in here, so hopefully no one suspected that I wanted to be closer so I could listen in on their conversation.

Patrick hummed thoughtfully. “It would be helpful if we could talk over our plans with a player and one of the coaching staff to make sure we’re not missing anything important.”

“I saw Nick—” I began, about to point out that Nick had already given Kim his details, but Matt spoke over me.