30. Dalton
THIRTY
DALTON
PREACH, MAMI!
Media Day prep was in full swing when we made our way through the side entrance of the arena. The rink was buzzing with activity. Photographers, marketing teams, and press were setting up, and I was about to head to where Jimenez and the rest of the team were gathering when a loud voice cut through the crowd behind us.
“Okay, where are all the hot men?” A woman with the blunt black bob came storming in, juggling a drink carrier loaded with coffees in one hand and an armful of chaos in the other. “So you’re the fine ass white boy that has my cousin’s chonies all wadded up in a knot,” she said, dragging her eyes down my body in an assessing manner, stopping at my legs. “Do you have any thigh tattoos? Because if not, you really should reconsider it, she loves?—”
Whatever else she was going to say was cut off when Ari stepped up and slapped a hand over the woman’s mouth, looking mortified.
“ Ya cállate ,” she ground out, voice low, a warning in her tone. But all the woman did was roll her eyes in false innocence.
Monroe stormed over, taking in the scene with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed.
“Everyone, this is my cousin Graciella,” Ari said, her hand still pressed to her cousin’s mouth.
“This isn’t Bring a Family Member to Work Day , Contreras,” Josh said in his usual gruff tone, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.
Gracie peeled Ari’s hand from her mouth. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here to do my job,” she said with a smile, clearly unfazed by his grumpiness.
Monroe raised an eyebrow, nodding toward the coffee carrier and arm full of stuff. “What job’s that? Crafts services?”
“No, actually,” she said, not missing a beat. “I work in sports marketing, specializing in content.” She flashed her pass in Monroe’s face, coming within inches of hitting him. I tried not to laugh. “See, I was invited, thank you very much. Usually, it’s my job to make people like you look better. Most of the time, I charge for this advice, but you look like you could use it, so here’s a freebie. If you smiled more, they wouldn’t think you’re part bear.”
The words were kind, hell even her tone was, but there was still something in her delivery that made it undeniable that she was telling him to go fuck himself.
Monroe’s scowl deepened, but her grin only widened.
Ari shook her head. “Okay, gotta go,” she said, pulling her cousin behind her.
I chuckled, watching Monroe’s face twitch as Gracie winked at him over her shoulder .
She’d eat him alive. One sunny smile at a time.
I’d forgotten how loud the chatter in the press room was. The heat from the lights, the constant shutter clicks, and the conversations could all be overwhelming if you weren’t used to it. We all shuffled behind the cloth table lined with mics. Jimenez and I settled into our seats next to Ari and Monroe, whose scowl only deepened when he caught sight of Gracie among the reporters, exaggeratedly miming for him to smile.
My attention kept drifting back to Ari, seated at my side.
She was gorgeous, seated in front of the Dallas Desperados logo, exuding confidence in her hot pink suit. Seeing her there did something to me. A swell of pride that was almost overwhelming. Hell, maybe I wanted her name plastered across my jersey. Or maybe a big foam finger I could wave that said “#1 Coach” just to show how damn proud I was.
I leaned over, my hand finding her knee under the table. “Ready for this?” I murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze. I caught her nod in my peripheral vision. “You’re going to do great. I’m here to support you. Always. I want you to succeed.”
In everything.
She looked composed and radiant, but I knew she was nervous. I started tracing small shapes on her thigh, hoping to ease the tension causing her shoulders to ride up near her ears.
Gracie flashed us a big thumbs up as the questions began.
Most focused on the team’s plans for the season, our training schedule, and the roster, but then they made a shift toward the newest coaching member on staff, and I squeezed her knee.
One of the reporters in the front row leaned forward. “Dalton, how’s the team handling the new training regimen under Ms. Contreras’ leadership? Any noticeable changes yet?”
I straightened, giving a quick, confident smile. “Honestly? Yeah, we’re already seeing a difference. She’s bringing a new level of intensity and precision to our training. Her focus on injury prevention has us all feeling sharper and healthier. I think you’ll see a team that’s faster and stronger this season, all thanks to her.”
A few reporters scribbled notes, clearly intrigued, and I could feel her eyes on me, a small, appreciative smile playing at her lips.
I wasn’t kissing her ass, either. It was all true. Her focus on the functional training was resulting in real improvements on the ice. She didn’t give a shit what we could bench. She wanted to see how well we could explode up out of a squat.
Another hand went up.
“Jimenez, what’s been the toughest adjustment so far with the new program?”
He leaned to his mic, grinning. “Well, I’ll tell you, she doesn’t mess around. Brutal when it comes to running a tight ship.” He glanced at her with a mischievous smile. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a Latina woman. Probably no one better equipped to handle a bunch of idiots like us.” He shifted his attention back to the crowd of reporters, turning on the charm. “But the real challenge? The intensity. She has us pushing limits we didn’t know we had. I had no idea three-pound weights could be so brutal! She’s got us doing these front delt raises that make it hard for me to turn my steering wheel when I drive home.”
The room broke out in laughter. Even the corner of Monroe’s mouth twitched.
Gracie’s smile was practically a spotlight in the crowd, beaming over the praise her cousin was getting. Hell, I was beaming. I could feel the ache in my cheeks from smiling so hard.
But the moment a familiar blonde woman stood up in the back row, my stomach dropped. What the hell was she doing here? Media Day was a closed event where only press from an approved list was invited, and I’d made it very clear she was not one of the approved.
Emma peered over the top of her notepad with that too-sweet smile plastered on her face as she adjusted her mic before speaking.
“So, Dalton. How are you feeling going into this season? Do you think the team is ready to support you in the way you deserve as a star player?”
I held back a wince at her voice.
Ariella’s hand found mine under the table. Now she was the one giving me the encouraging squeeze. Or maybe she was so pissed she needed something to hold on to because her grip didn’t let up.
“Oh, but the no ex-relationships rule doesn’t apply to this?” she muttered under her breath. I coughed to cover up my laugh, shaking my head at the smirk on Ari’s face, pleased that neither of us was giving Emma the reaction she was so clearly looking for.
I schooled my features before answering, the years of media training my father put me through kicking in. I was going to treat Emma like any other reporter and be professional.
“Every win and loss is earned as a team. We’re there for each other, especially when someone’s having an off game, including me.” I meant it. My teammates meant everything to me, especially Jimenez, who’d always had my back. I might play well, but I wasn’t anything without the rest of them.
“Sure,” she said, her tone dripping with feigned innocence, “but last season, you didn’t seem to have as many ‘off nights’ as your teammates. You’re always on top of your game. It’s impressive.” She leaned forward a little, looking at me with a flirtatious smile, laying it on thick.
What the hell?
“Like I said, we’re only as strong as we are together,” I replied firmly. “That’s the beauty of this team. We lift each other up. It’s what gives us our edge.”
“Of course.” My stomach turned at the smile that spread across Emma’s face as she shifted her attention to Ari. “This question is for Ms. Contreras. As the new strength and conditioning head coach, what do you think you bring to a team of this caliber? Are you truly qualified for this role? What if the team suffers because of your...inadequacies?” Her lips twisted slightly as she pressed on, barely hiding her disdain.
My grip tightened around the mic, words ready to fire, and I could sense my teammates around me preparing to leap into this attack, too.
“Hey—”
Ari cut in over at least four male voices, her tone icy enough to freeze over the rink.
“I find it disappointing that a fellow woman would choose to tear another down rather than uplift.” Her voice was calm, and the room went still. Emma’s smug expression faltered slightly at the call out. “If I’m not mistaken, your question implies doubt in my qualifications because I’m not a man, which is an irrelevant qualification for this position. So, let me clarify what experience I have that actually matters. I graduated at the top of my class, summa cum laude, as a first-generation Mexican-American college graduate. I bring years of expertise in high-intensity training, strength conditioning, and injury prevention. I’ve dedicated my career thus far to building resilience in athletes, on and off the ice. And I know exactly what this team needs to reach peak performance because I know my players. Any other questions?” Pride burned in my chest.
Gracie stood, glaring at Emma in a way that scared even me before turning to her cousin. “Ms. Contreras, as a leader and role model in a traditionally male-dominated space, what’s your message to women wanting to break into this field?” She paused, smile widening. “Besides not to be an asshole to fellow women. ”
Monroe made a noise that sounded oddly like a laugh but also like he might be choking to death.
Ari smirked before answering. “I’d say, push boundaries. Don’t let stereotypes define you. Cultural, gender-based, or anything in between. Find allies who support your vision, and don’t let fear keep you out of spaces you’re more than capable of being in. That you belong in. Take up space because you deserve to.”
Gracie broke into applause, smacking nearby reporters on the shoulder if they didn’t join in quickly enough for her liking, and I could tell that Ari’s cousin and I were going to get along just fine.
Meanwhile, Ari’s cheeks matched her suit, and she shot daggers at Gracie for causing a scene.
I leaned over, my voice low in her ear. “You deserve every bit of this. You’re amazing.”
She glanced over, and our eyes locked, caught in a moment that felt like it was just for us despite the crowd watching. If we weren’t in front of a room full of people, I’d have kissed her right then.
The lines between real and pretend weren’t blurred—they’d disappeared completely. I wasn’t sure they’d ever been there for me.
I was all in, and I wanted her for as long as she’d have me.
That last thought hit me like a punch in the gut. How long would that be? The question lingered, pulling at something raw and vulnerable inside me.
But before I could dwell on it too long, Emma stood again, barely contained smugness plastered on her face. She held up her tablet, displaying a photo of Ari and me at In-N-Out.
“But isn’t it convenient that she landed her position shortly after you began seeing each other?” Her tone was loaded, and she didn’t even try to hide the implication. “Are you really saying her hiring had nothing to do with your relationship?”
What was her problem? We hadn’t had any communication in months—not a text, a phone call, a fucking postcard—and now she was drowning me in compliments at the expense of my teammates and questioning Ariella’s employment?
Ari’s eyes narrowed, but this time, I did step in.
“Let me make this clear.” I held Emma’s gaze. “Ariella Contreras was hired by this organization solely because of her skills, experience, and the respect she’s earned in this industry. She’s one of the best at what she does, and every member of this team has already benefited from her approach and dedication.” I worked hard to keep my anger in check, but I couldn’t hide how I white-knuckled the mic. “My relationship with her has zero impact on her role here. And frankly, it’s insulting to her to suggest otherwise. She didn’t just ‘land’ her position. She earned it. So, to answer your question, no, our relationship had nothing to do with it.”
Ari pried open the fist in my lap, intertwining her fingers with mine. Part of me had wondered if she’d be pissed that I spoke for her rather than letting her answer again, but when I turned, her eyes blazed with appreciation.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Monroe leaning forward in his seat, staring down my ex. “Just so we are clear, I hired Ms. Contreras well before she’d ever met Dalton. The next time you want to challenge someone’s professional merit, I suggest you do it based on facts, not outdated or offensive assumptions. That’s your whole damn job, right? The irony of you insinuating that she’s unqualified, when you’ve come in here with baseless claims and personal vendettas.”
Emma’s face broke out in blotchy red patches. “I…well…she?—”
“Sit down, Ms. Faulk. I think we’ve all heard enough from you,” Monroe said, glaring until she complied before covering his mic and looking at me. “Why the fuck would they let your ex come to Media Day? Who do you think sent her?”
I wished I had an answer for him, but I didn’t. Turning in time to see Emma slump back into her seat before glancing to the back of the room, I followed her line of sight, only to find my father leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
That look in his eyes—it made my skin prickle.
Is she here because of him?