Chapter 2

Rowan's POV

After changing into a pair of rental skates, I cautiously stepped onto the ice.

The moment my blades touched the smooth surface, I regretted every decision that had led me here.

"Easy..." I muttered to myself.

"I've watched enough hockey games. How hard can skating be?"

Apparently, it was very hard.

I pushed myself forward, wobbling like a newborn deer taking its first steps. Every movement felt awkward, and I was certain I looked ridiculous.

A few players skating past shot me amused glances.

One of them even chuckled. "Careful, rookie!"

"I'm not a rookie," I called back with an embarrassed smile. "I'm just trying not to break my neck on my first day."

The laughter around the rink grew louder.

Taking a deep breath, I carefully made my way toward Drake. The closer I got, the more nervous I became.

He hadn't taken his eyes off me since calling me over. His expression was as cold as ever.

I was only a few feet away when my skate caught the edge of the ice.

"Oh—"

My balance disappeared instantly. I squeezed my eyes shut, already preparing to hit the ice.

But the impact never came.

A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me upright before I could fall.

My eyes flew open.

All I could see were a pair of striking silver eyes staring back at me from an impossibly close distance.

For reasons I couldn't explain, my heart skipped a beat.

I quickly straightened myself and took a small step back. "Thank you, Captain."

Drake slowly withdrew his hand, his expression didn't soften in the slightest.

"If you can't even stand properly," he said coolly, "what exactly are you doing on my ice?"

"Uh..." I cleared my throat, suddenly forgetting how to speak. "I...I..."

One of Drake's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Did a cat get your tongue?"

His voice was placid, but there wasn't a hint of feeling in it.

"N-No." I quickly shook my head. "I'm Rowan... Rowan Vale."

"The new physiotherapist?"

"Yes."

"I see."

His silver eyes slowly swept over me from head to toe, scrutinizing every detail as though assessing whether I belonged on his team.

For some reason, the way he looked at me made me feel like I was standing before a strict examiner.

His gaze finally settled on my face. "If you're the new physiotherapist..."

He glanced toward the staff member who had been talking to me moments earlier. "...then why are you standing here chatting during training hours?"

The staff member immediately lowered his head. "S-Sorry, Captain. I was just showing Mr. Rowan around the facility."

Drake didn't even spare him a glance. "I wasn't asking you."

His attention returned to me. "So?"

I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "Well... I was actually waiting for... um..."

I hesitated. "Your coach?"

"...Or maybe the owner? I'm still not sure who's supposed to introduce me."

Drake's expression changed to disbelief. "You came to your first day without knowing who you were reporting to?"

I smiled sheepishly. "When you put it like that, it does sound a little unprofessional."

"Well..." Drake replied flatly. "It is unprofessional."

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry, Captain."

He regarded me for a moment before speaking again. "Save your apology."

His voice remained calm, yet every word carried authority. "If you're looking for someone, Coach Henderson is in the office at the back. Go and report to him."

I nodded quickly. "Okay. Thank you."

"Rowan." His voice stopped my sprawling mind.

I looked back at him. "Yes, Captain?"

One of his brows arched. "Do I need to tell you to move a second time?"

My face instantly heated with embarrassment. "N-No, Captain."

Without another word, I hurried toward the hallway leading to the coaches' offices, silently praying I hadn't already ruined my first day.

I walked down the hallway until I found the office Drake had mentioned.

Head Coach – Henderson

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand and knocked twice. 

"Come in." The deep, aged voice came from the other side of the door.

I slowly pushed it open.

Behind a large wooden desk sat an elderly man in his late sixties, reading through a stack of player files. A pair of reading glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose, and every now and then, he scribbled a few notes onto the documents before moving on to the next file.

Without looking up, he spoke. "Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute."

"Yes, sir." I quietly closed the door behind me and sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk, patiently waiting while he finished reviewing the files.

A few minutes later, he placed the file he had been reading on top of the stack and removed his glasses.

Only then did he look up at me. His eyes studied me for a brief moment before the corners of his lips lifted into a faint smile.

"So..."

He leaned back slightly in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. "Why don't you introduce yourself first?"

I immediately rose to my feet. "My name is Rowan Vale, sir."

"I recently graduated as a sports physiotherapist, and..." I offered him a polite smile. "...today is my first day working with the Scarlet Wolves."

Recognition flashed across his face. "Ah, so you're Rowan."

He nodded slowly before gesturing for me to sit down again. "I've heard a lot about you."

I blinked in surprise. "You have?"

"Of course." He chuckled. "Your professors spoke very highly of you. According to them, you graduated at the top of your class and completed every internship with outstanding evaluations."

A hint of embarrassment crept onto my face. "They're giving me too much credit."

Coach Henderson laughed. "Modest too. I like that."

He picked up a folder from his desk and flipped it open. "Welcome to the Scarlet Wolves, Rowan. I hope you're ready."

"Because working with this team..."

He paused just long enough for me to become curious. "...isn't easy."

I smiled confidently. "I didn't come here expecting it to be."

His smile widened. "Good. Your first challenge is our captain."

The image of Drake Rucker's perpetually cold expression immediately flashed through my mind.

I had a feeling this wasn't going to be as simple as treating a few hockey injuries.

Before Coach Henderson could say another word, the office door flew open with a loud bang.

A young assistant coach rushed inside, breathing heavily as though he had sprinted the entire length of the arena. "Coach!"

He placed both hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Coach Henderson frowned. "What is it?"

The assistant looked up, panic written all over his face. "It's Captain!”