7– Kayden

“Alvarez has got the puck! It’s a three-man rush against one! What will Alvarez do? He dekes! He shoots! Alvarez scores the winning goal for his team! Boston takes the win at home tonight! What a spectacular game!”

The arena erupted into chaos the second the final buzzer went off. 

The roar of thousands of fans shattered the air, shaking the very foundation of the rink. 

Before I could even raise my stick in celebration, my teammates practically threw themselves at me, tackling me down onto the ice in a pile-up.

The intoxicating thrill of the win surged through my veins, but as soon as I could break free from the pile, my eyes scanned the sidelines. 

I didn't care about the cameras or the fans.

I only cared about her.

I skated hard toward the bench, stopping right where she stood behind the glass. Reaching over, I hooked my arms around her waist and pulled Gabrielle flush against my chest into a hug.

She froze, her body rigid with shock. But within seconds, her defenses crumbled. Her posture relaxed against me, and her arms wound around my neck, hugging me back tightly.

“Thank you,” I whispered against her soft hair, not caring if the deafening roar of the crowd drowned out my voice. “Thank you so much for holding my hand, Gabrielle.”

I could have thanked her for so much more. I wanted to thank her for stepping into that locker room, for looking past the headlines, and for that breathtaking kiss that had set my soul on fire before the puck dropped. 

But a familiar wave of insecurity hit me.

I didn’t know if she already regretted what had happened between us. I didn’t know if she was just playing her part in the contract.

“You should go back to your teammates,” Gabrielle murmured, her hands pushing gently against my chest, though she didn't let go.

I pulled back just enough to look down at her, letting my eyes soften as I drank in the sight of her. Heat rose to her cheeks, painting her skin in a soft hue of crimson.

My lips stretched into a wide, victorious smile. I skated backward away from her, winking once before turning to face the sports reporter who was already sprinting toward me with a cameraman in tow.

“Here is the man of the hour!” the reporter announced breathlessly into her microphone, flashing a bright smile at the camera. “You seem to be buzzing tonight, Alvarez. What’s the secret behind this explosive performance?”

“I’ll be honest, I was nervous about how the world would perceive my personal life if it ever came out,” I answered into the mic, my chest still heaving frantically from the game. I cut a glance back toward the bench. “But now? I’m just happy that I can openly skate over to my woman and celebrate my biggest wins with her.”

The reporter’s eyes lit up at the scoop. “Speaking of wins, you were in your element out there tonight. Your movement on the ice was incredibly fluid. Is there a specific tactical secret to how you handled that triple-team defense in the final period?”

“Let’s just say a happy man plays a great game,” I chuckled, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. “When your head is clear, the ice just opens up for you. As for the defense, I noticed they were overcommitting early on. My linesmen did an incredible job creating a screen, which allowed me to exploit the blind spot and find the gap.”

“It certainly paid off. That final goal was pure instinct,” the reporter pressed on. “But the fans are dying to know: was there a shift in your pre-game preparation today? You looked focused out there from the very first whistle.”

“Definitely,” I said, a slow smirk spreading across my face as I leaned slightly into the microphone. “I got to hold my girl’s hand for a very long time before stepping onto the ice today. Turns out, she has the warmest hands in the city. If you ask me, that's better than any traditional coaching strategy out there.”

The reporter laughed. “You talk about holding her hand like you’ve never held it before.”

“Let’s just say we were thrown right back into the honeymoon phase since we were discovered last night,” I countered smoothly.

“We love to hear it,” she smiled. “But there’s been a lot of discourse about the timeline of your relationship online. Some say there’s a bit of confusion, as just recently you were seen out with other women. Do you wish to shed more light on that?”

Fuck me.

The line of questioning caught me off guard, but I made sure not to sure any expression.

Gabrielle’s training kicked in instantly in my head, and I shifted the spotlight away from my past. “I think the most important thing tonight is that this is our second big win at home this season. It was an incredible game, and I especially want to shout out my teammates who make it super easy to play out there. Our chemistry is top-notch, and I hope we continue playing this way for the rest of the season. And as for our goalie? He did a fantastic job of saving our asses tonight.”

“Is there going to be a celebratory after-party?” she asked, steering the interview toward the post-game hype.

“For my teammates? Absolutely. For me? I’m just going to head straight home and have a quiet dinner with my woman.”

The reporter blinked in surprise. “Now that is new, Alvarez. You’ve always been the very first to jump at an opportunity to party.”

“Let’s just say I’ve been feeling a little under the weather recently,” I lied easily, putting on a tired look. “So, no heavy partying for me until the team doctor clears me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. And it’s incredibly commendable that you played so tremendously well tonight even while you're sick. I wish you a quick recovery, Kayden, and thank you so much for talking to us!”

“You’re very welcome,” I replied, flashing my signature, easy grin as I looked her up and down. “And hey, you look absolutely dashing tonight. As always.”

The reporter laughed, blushing slightly as she wrapped up the interview and the camera finally panned back to the cheering stadium. 

I skated off toward the tunnel, the crowd chanting my name, but my mind was stuck on the look on Gabrielle’s face.

The public display was a success. Now, the next challenge would be facing Gabrielle later after talking about her on live television.

. . .

The suffocating silence that followed us throughout the entire drive home was all the confirmation I needed.

Whatever discourse the reporter had thrown at me back at the arena, Gabrielle had heard of it—and she was furious. 

She didn't express any anger, though. She just sat there with that cold, professional mask she always wore around me. But somehow, seeing her like that now gnawed at my chest.

“Hey,” I muttered the moment the front door clicked shut behind us.

I was terrified of her in this state. She felt like a ticking time bomb, and I had no idea when she was going to detonate.

Gabrielle didn’t respond. She just kept walking toward the stairs.

I rushed forward and gripped her arm, forcing her to a halt. “Gabrielle, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” Her voice was clipped.

“This isn’t nothing, Elle.” I inhaled a ragged, steadying breath, looking down at her. “If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I’ll apologize.”

“Do you believe a simple apology can change anything right now?”

“What?”

“I’m embarrassed, Kayden. That’s what’s wrong,” she said, her voice cracking as she turned her blazing eyes up to mine. “Do you think an apology is going to stop the humiliation I'm feeling?”

“If you could just tell me what happened—”

“You know your teammate Tony? His wife came up to me at the arena,” Gabrielle cut me off, her chest heaving as months of resentment spilled over. “She told me she’d heard all about my job. She said she knew I was the one who personally arranged the NDAs for the women you spent the night with over the last six months. She said it was women like me who enabled the excesses of athletes like you. She told me I didn’t have a backbone because not only did I allow my 'boyfriend' to sleep around, I personally signed off on the girls he slept with!”

“I’m—” The words died in my throat. A cold wave of guilt washed over me.

“Do I look like a woman who would ever do something like that for a partner?” she demanded, stepping closer, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and hurt.

“Of course not,” I whispered, horrified by what she had been subjected to.

“But that is exactly what I’ve been painted as. Because of you!” she yelled, pointing a finger at my chest. “Because you couldn’t just leave me alone! Because you had to force this ridiculous narrative!”

“Elle—”

“My name is Gabrielle!” she snapped. “And the worst part is the fact that you’re not even willing to rein in your disgusting playboy act until this thirty-day contract is over.”

“I didn’t do anything tonight,” I defended myself weakly, thrown off balance.

“Yeah? Because flirting with and complimenting that reporter right after hugging me was nothing?”

“Gabrielle, that’s just media tradition. It’s what I always do to keep the press friendly—”

“Good for you. Honestly, it’s not like you owe me an explanation anyway.” She turned her back on me, taking a step toward the staircase.

“I do owe you an explanation,” I argued, stepping in front of her to block her path. My heart was pounding frantically against my ribs. “There is something real between us, Gabrielle. You felt it in the locker room. Don't lie and say you didn't.”

Gabrielle paused, her expression unreadable as she looked at me like I was a stranger.

“There is absolutely nothing between us, Kayden,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The only thing we have in common is that we are legally bound by a piece of paper. Never forget that.”