The Captain Took Notice

Wren pov

The next morning hit like a slapshot—cold, fast, and unrelenting. I barely slept after the Kane estate visit , my mind replaying every clipped word and dismissive glance from Rhett. How I tried to salvage the situation. But I shoved it down. Today was about the job. About proving I belonged on that ice, even if only from the bench.

The Fieldhouse buzzed with early practice energy by the time I swiped in with my new keycard. Mac grunted a greeting and handed me a tablet loaded with injury logs and equipment checklists. Coach Harlan nodded approvingly when I had the water bottles lined up exactly right—blue caps out—before the team even hit the ice. For the first hour, it felt good. Focused. Mine.

Then the cheer squad showed up.

They spilled into the arena like a perfume cloud, all high ponytails, short skirts, and coordinated energy that screamed we own this campus. I recognized a few from the booster event flyers—Brooke’s circle, Rhett’s on-again-off-again girlfriend at the center, her blonde hair gleaming under the lights. They weren’t practicing; they were watching the team run drills, giggling and snapping photos.

I kept my head down, hauling a crate of fresh pucks toward the bench. That’s when it started.

“Hey, new girl,” one of them called out—tall, with sharp eyeliner and a smirk that could freeze water. “You’re the scholarship manager, right? The one the Kanes personally invited to the house last night?”

Whispers rippled through the group. Brooke turned, her eyes narrowing as she sized me up. I straightened, crate still in my arms, cheeks already burning but my chin lifted.

“Yeah,” I said evenly. “That’s me.”

Brooke stepped closer, her squad forming a half-circle that felt way too much like an interrogation. “Cute. Must be nice, getting a free ride just for showing up with sad eyes and a hard-luck story. Some of us actually earn our spot around here. Try not to trip over your own desperation near the captain, okay? He’s got enough charity cases.”

The words stung—naive me had hoped the scholarship would stay quiet—but I wasn’t my mom’s daughter for nothing. I’d survived worse than mean girls in designer boots.

I set the crate down with a deliberate thud and met Brooke’s gaze head-on. “Desperation? I turned down other offers to come here because I earned that scholarship on merit. Same as you earned those cheers, I’m sure—by smiling pretty and staying in your lane.” A couple of the girls blinked. I kept going, voice steady despite the adrenaline. “As for the captain, I’m here to manage equipment and log injuries, not chase anyone. If you’ve got a problem with the Kanes’ choices, take it up with them yourself. Not the girl hauling pucks at six in the morning.”

Silence. Brooke’s perfectly glossed mouth opened, then closed. She didn't have any words to come back. The sharp-eyed one shifted uncomfortably. One girl in the back actually looked impressed, biting back a smile.

Brooke recovered with a brittle laugh. “Feisty. We’ll see how long that lasts when the whole team hears about the scholarship slut trying to climb the ladder.”

“Call me that again,” I said quietly, stepping forward so only she could hear the rest, “and I’ll make sure Coach knows exactly who’s distracting his staff during practice setup. Pretty sure the Kane family wouldn’t love that kind of ‘image problem’ either.”

Her eyes widened. The squad muttered, thrown aback. No one expected the quiet scholarship kid to push back let alone land a clean hit. Brooke flipped her hair and muttered something about “trash” before steering her group away, but the damage was done. They left me standing there, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through me.

I exhaled shakily, turning back to the crate. Scholarship or not, I wasn’t letting anyone trample me. Not here. Not when I’d fought tooth and nail just to stand in this arena.

I grabbed the last stack of towels and spun too fast—straight into a solid wall of muscle and State Hockey hoodie.

Strong hands caught my elbows to steady me. Ice-blue eyes met mine. Rhett.

Up close again, in the bright arena lights, he looked even more untouchable. That same sharp jaw, the faint scent of winter air and clean soap. My pulse, already racing from the cheer squad, kicked into overdrive.

“Wren,” he said, voice low. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary before dropping away. For the first time since last night, something like interest flickered across his face. Not the bored dismissal from the mansion—this was sharper. Appraising.

“I'm so sorry,” I muttered, stepping back and clutching the towels like armor. “Didn’t see you there.”

He glanced past me toward the retreating cheer squad, one eyebrow lifting. A half-smile tugged at his mouth—not the polished golden-boy version, but something rougher around the edges. “Didn’t expect you to be so fiery. Heard most of that. Brooke’s not used to pushback.”

Heat flooded my face. Great. The captain had witnessed my first campus showdown. “They were just… reminding me of my place. I reminded them of theirs.”

He studied me for a long beat, arms crossing over his broad chest. The team was still on the ice behind him, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to join them. “Most scholarship kids keep their heads down. Play nice and try to kiss ass ,You just told the booster princess and her pack to back off in front of half the arena.”

I shrugged, trying to ignore how my stomach flipped under that intense stare. “I’m here to work, not make friends with the cheer squad. Or get intimidated out of doing my job.”

That rough edge to his smile deepened. “Fiery,” he repeated, almost like he was tasting the word. “Didn’t see that coming. Keep it up, Matthews. But watch your back—they don’t forget.”

He nodded once, almost approving, then brushed past me toward the ice. His shoulder grazed mine, sending a spark I immediately ignored. I watched him glide out, seamless and commanding, barking something at a teammate that had them laughing.

I stood there, towels forgotten, nerves and unexpected warmth tangling in my chest realising a breath i didn't realise i was holding. Rhett Kane had barely looked at me last night. Today? He’d noticed me.