2. Ryker
Chapter 2
Ryker
I stormed into Gideon’s office, still fuming from the meeting with Paige. The irritation had been gnawing at me all through Barrett's voluntary August practice, like a splinter under the skin. I had expected her to crumble under my dismissive comments, to back down like so many others had. But she hadn’t. Paige had stood there, calm and resolute, meeting my cold gaze with a quiet strength that unsettled me.
I hated that it got to me. And worse, I hated that it was still getting to me, hours later.
I thought I had gotten her out of my system. It had been years. She shouldn’t affect me like this anymore. But…
Gideon sat behind his desk, perfectly composed. He looked up from his tablet with that same calculating gaze he always wore—sharp, observant, as if he were already five steps ahead of everyone in the room. It was the kind of gaze that had earned him respect in the league, and it was also why I’d never been able to get a read on him. Gideon was untouchable, almost eerily calm, like nothing rattled him.
“Ryker,” Gideon said smoothly, his voice calm and measured. “Something on your mind?”
I wasted no time. “What was that earlier? Paige Adams?” My tone was harsher than intended, but I didn’t care. “What the hell is she doing here?”
Gideon didn’t flinch. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. “Paige is our new assistant GM,” he said simply. "You were there during the meeting, weren't you? This was explained, pretty plainly."
“Assistant GM?” I scoffed. “She’s barely out of college.”
“She has credentials,” he replied. “And a fresh perspective we need.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. “Credentials don’t mean experience on the ice.”
“She’s got enough to be here,” he countered calmly.
“How are you okay with this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. “You really need an assistant? Really?”
Gideon’s expression remained unreadable. “She’ll be focused on the PR aspect of the job,” he said flatly, as if the matter was already settled. “Freeing my time for more important things like winning the Stanley Cup.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. PR? That was supposed to make everything okay? “And you think she’s up for it?” I challenged. “Handling the media, the fans, the sponsors—she’s not ready for that.”
“She’ll learn,” Gideon replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And she’ll have guidance.”
I shook my head, pacing the small office. “This isn’t some college project, Gideon. This is real life. The stakes are higher.”
“I’m aware,” he said coolly. “But I trust her capabilities.”
I stopped and faced him, frustration bubbling over. “And what if she screws up? What then?”
“Then we deal with it,” he said, unflinching. “Just like we deal with any other challenge.”
His calmness only infuriated me more. “This isn’t just any challenge! This is our reputation on the line!”
“Ryker,” Gideon’s voice cut through my rant like a knife, sharp and decisive. “You need to focus on your role and let me handle mine.”
I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my temper. This wasn’t going anywhere. Gideon had made up his mind, and nothing I said would change that.
“Fine,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “But don’t expect me to go easy on her.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look surprised by my outburst. “There is one thing to remember, Ryker.” He leaned back in his chair. “Minka wanted her in the role. You’ve met Minka, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, I’ve met her. She’s barely eighteen and thinks she can run a team,” I muttered. The words tasted bitter on my tongue, a mix of frustration and resignation. I knew I was venting, but the weight of leadership had been bearing down on me harder than ever. With the season approaching, the last thing I needed was someone like Paige complicating things. “You expect me to listen to someone like her? She’s a distraction.”
Gideon’s expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes—something unreadable, calculated. “Paige is here because she’s good at what she does,” he said. “She’s not a distraction unless you let her become one.”
I clenched my jaw; the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I wanted to argue, to push back, but Gideon’s calm demeanor made it difficult to find a weak spot. Gideon never got ruffled. He was like ice—unshakable and always ready to remind me that my place was on the ice, not in the boardroom.
“Look,” I said, trying to rein in my frustration. “I don’t need her getting in the way. This team is under enough pressure as it is. We’re not going to win with her breathing down our necks.”
Gideon considered this for a moment, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’re the captain, Ryker. You lead on the ice. Let me handle the front office.” His tone was smooth but firm, a subtle reminder that while I may command the locker room, Gideon commanded everything else.
The tension between us was palpable, but I said nothing more. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige’s presence was going to make things messier than they needed to be. As captain, I bore the weight of every win and every loss. The responsibility was mine, and adding another variable like Paige felt like a recipe for disaster.
Especially after what she did to my brother.
Especially after…
With that, I turned on my heel and left his office, slamming the door behind me. My mind raced with frustration and disbelief as I headed down the hallway. How could Gideon be so calm about this? It felt like we were playing with fire.
Paige might have impressed him with her credentials, but she hadn’t earned her place here yet—not in my eyes. And she never would. She couldn't commit to save her life, and when she did, she ran away like a fucking coward. If she wanted to prove herself, she’d have to do it the hard way.
And I wasn’t about to make it easy for her.
I returned to the rink that night, needing the cold atmosphere of the ice beneath my skates. The conversation with Gideon had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and Paige’s presence was a thorn I couldn’t shake. The ice was my sanctuary, the one place where everything made sense. Here, I could reset, regain control.
I stepped onto the ice; the chill seeping through my gear, and started my drills with brutal precision. Each slap of the puck against my stick was a reminder of the weight I carried. Being captain wasn’t just about playing; it was about shouldering the expectations of the team, the fans, the entire organization. It meant winning at all costs.
But tonight, even the ice couldn’t wipe away the irritation gnawing at me.
Paige Adams.
Her calm composure during our meeting still grated on me. She hadn’t flinched under pressure, hadn’t backed down. Most people respected my authority, knew their place around me. But not her. It pissed me off more than I wanted to admit.
The rink was quiet, the echo of my skates cutting through the silence. I let my thoughts wander back to the first time I met Paige. One of the outreach programs the Serpents worked with wanted a couple of players to speak to local colleges, including the University of Michigan. And there she was, front and center, with her stupid little notebook and her stupid sparkly pink pen like she was going to take a test on whatever we said.
God, she was fucking beautiful.
Her presence had a way of commanding attention without demanding it. She moved through the crowd with ease, a natural grace that made heads turn. She, naturally, had fifty questions for me afterwards, and one thing led to another…
I still didn’t know how she wound up meeting Brendan. I still didn’t know if she knew Brendan was my brother, and this was her way of getting back at me for not calling.
But it didn’t matter.
How Brendan managed to snag someone like her, I couldn’t fathom. It didn’t seem fair.
We’d talked briefly that night. Even then, she’d been unflappable, calm in a sea of chaos. I still didn’t know if she remembered me, that night. If she did, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between us that we would pretend we didn’t know each other. For Brendan's sake. Her eyes met mine with a confidence that unnerved me. I was used to people looking away first, but not her. Paige held her ground, even laughed at some stupid joke Brendan cracked. Her laughter had a warmth to it, something genuine that made you feel like you were in on a secret.
Brendan was smitten; anyone could see that. But me? I knew better.
People like Paige didn’t stick around for long. They got bored or found someone more interesting, more worthy of their attention. She would break Brendan's heart; it was just a matter of time.
And she did.
When she left him, Brendan was a wreck. He tried to hide it behind his usual bravado, but I saw through it. The late-night texts and drunken calls weren’t fooling anyone. Partly because, even with my brother being a lazy idiot, he didn’t deserve what she did to him.
But also, I had to relive the fact that someone who belonged to me first somehow found my brother. He had been with her for more than one night.
Maybe it was my fault that I hadn’t called. But how could I? It was my first year as captain, and I needed to keep my head on straight. We were heading out on a two-week road trip after that talk. If I called her that night, I’d be distracted. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew that much.
I drove the puck harder against the boards, frustration fueling each shot. Paige’s face flashed in my mind—calm, unyielding—and I hated how much it rattled me.
No one got under my skin like this.
And yet here she was again, threatening to unravel the tight control I held over everything in my life.
I skated harder, muscles burning with every movement. The familiar ache in my legs was a welcome distraction from the frustration boiling inside me. I could hear my father’s voice in my head: You don’t get distracted, Ryker. You don’t let people get in your head. If you do, you lose.
The puck flew off my stick and into the net with a satisfying thud. But even that small victory felt hollow tonight. No matter how many times I scored or how hard I pushed myself, Paige’s face kept intruding on my thoughts.
Why had she rattled me? Why couldn’t I just dismiss her like any other challenge?
I shook my head and took another shot, this one harder than before. The puck ricocheted off the post and skidded across the ice. My frustration grew with each failed attempt to clear her from my mind.
This rink was supposed to be where I found clarity, where everything else fell away and only the game mattered. But tonight, it felt like even this sanctuary couldn’t shield me from the turmoil Paige had stirred up.
I circled back for another puck, determined to keep going until exhaustion took over. Maybe then, I’d find some peace from the thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone.
Maybe then, I’d remember why I fought so hard to keep everyone at arm’s length.
I lined up another shot and let it fly with all the force I could muster.
Last season had been the worst. The kind of year that eats at you, gnaws at your insides like a disease. Scandals piled up, one after another, until we were a joke in the league. The media had a field day, of course. Every game, every practice, there they were, shoving mics in my face, hurling questions about everything except the game.
“Kane, how do you feel about the latest allegations?”
“Can you comment on the team’s response to the Mathers scandal?”
“What do you think about the coach’s involvement?”
It never ended. And it took away from what mattered—winning. I’d worked my ass off to keep my focus on the ice, to push the team harder, but those questions followed me everywhere. They chipped away at our morale, our unity. Each time I faced those cameras, I felt like I was standing on thin ice.
And now, we had Paige. A young girl who probably never played hockey in her life was supposed to fix everything? She couldn't even fix her relationship with Brendan. And when Brendan needed her, she left. It felt like some sick joke. Three other people had tried before her in the last year, and nothing had changed. Each one came in with promises and plans but left without making a dent in our problems.
I doubted she’d be any different.
I pushed harder against the ice, muscles screaming in protest. Paige might’ve had that calm exterior during our meeting, but it wouldn’t last. This world chewed people up and spit them out if they didn’t know how to handle it.
A slapshot echoed through the rink as I sent another puck flying into the net. The sound was a hollow comfort against the weight pressing on my chest.
What did she know about our struggles? About what it meant to carry this team through hell and back? It wasn’t just about tactics or strategy; it was about heart and grit. Something you couldn’t learn from books or degrees. It was sticking it out when things got hard.
I skated faster, trying to outrun my thoughts.
Paige might think she could waltz in here and change things overnight, but reality would hit her soon enough. This wasn’t some corporate boardroom where you could throw money at problems until they disappeared.
I grabbed another puck and lined up my shot.
If she thought she could make a difference, she was in for a rude awakening.
I finished another hard lap around the rink, my breath coming in short, controlled bursts. The cold air stung my lungs, but I welcomed the pain. It was a reminder that I was alive, that I was still in control. But Paige’s face kept flashing in my mind, her calm, unflinching gaze unsettling me in ways I didn’t want to admit.
I had to focus. Winning was all that mattered. Paige was just another distraction, one I needed to shove aside. She was already complicating things, and Ryker Kane didn’t do complicated.
I skated to the bench and took a swig of water, trying to clear my head. Her words from the meeting echoed in my mind.
“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself, wiping sweat from my brow. “She’s just another suit.”
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t that simple. There was something about her that unsettled me, something I couldn’t shake. The way she carried herself, the determination in her eyes—it reminded me of that night, of how she told me that vulnerability wasn’t a weakness.
I shook my head and laced up my skates tighter. No time for distractions.
I pushed off the bench and hit the ice again, this time with renewed intensity. Each stride felt like a battle against the thoughts swirling in my mind. Paige wasn’t here to befriend me or understand me; she was here to fix problems she didn’t understand.
My father’s voice echoed again: Perfection or nothing. Don't bother trying.
That’s what he drilled into me since day one. It shaped me into who I am—the captain who didn’t break under pressure, who didn’t let anyone see his weaknesses.
But now, with Paige around, it felt like those walls were being tested.
The puck skidded across the ice as I sent another shot flying into the net. Sweat dripped down my face, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was staying ahead of everyone else—staying ahead of myself.
I pushed harder, determined to drown out everything else with the sound of my blades cutting through the ice.
Winning was all that mattered. Everything else could wait.
Paige needed to go. If she wasn’t here, things could go back to normal. I could focus on the game, on winning, without her getting in my head.
I skated to a stop, the chill of the ice seeping through my gear. The idea had taken root, and I couldn’t shake it.
I needed a plan.
First step: dig into her past. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, right? Something that could get her fired or at least make her rethink taking on this role. I didn’t care how pristine she appeared; no one was spotless.
I grabbed my phone from the bench and scrolled through my contacts until I found Derek’s number. Derek owed me a favor from way back when we both played in the juniors. He had connections, the kind that could dig up dirt on anyone.
I tapped his name and waited for him to pick up.
“Ryker,” he answered, his voice gruff with sleep. “What’s up?”
“Need a favor,” I said, pacing the length of the bench. “I need info on someone.”
He chuckled softly. “Got yourself in a bind again?”
“Not exactly,” I replied, forcing myself to stay calm. “New hire at the team—Paige Adams. Need you to find anything that might help me get her out.”
Derek was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “Adams? Sounds familiar. Any specifics?”
“Anything shady,” I said, gripping the phone tighter. “Something that’ll make management think twice about keeping her around.”
“All right,” he said, sounding more awake now. “Give me a couple of days.”
“Appreciate it.” I ended the call and slipped my phone back into my pocket.
With Derek on it, I felt a glimmer of hope. Paige might’ve come in with her fancy degrees and calm demeanor, but if there was dirt to be found, Derek would find it.
I grabbed another puck and lined up a shot, letting it sail into the net with all the frustration boiling inside me.
If Paige thought she could waltz in here and change things overnight, she had another thing coming.
I skated harder, determined to drown out everything else with the sound of my blades cutting through the ice.
The sooner she was gone, the better for everyone involved.