Chapter Eight #3
He was seated beneath his stall, leaning forward as he untied one skate.
His practice shirt had been replaced by a dark long-sleeved shirt that fit closely across his shoulders and forearms. His hair remained damp, pushed back from his face in a way that made the sharp line of his cheekbones more obvious.
He lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe away sweat dripping down the side of his face, briefly revealing his defined abs.
Tessa hated that she noticed.
Matvei looked up.
Their eyes met before she had decided whether to approach him. Something in his expression shifted, not softening exactly, but becoming more attentive. He glanced toward the recorder in her hand.
Tessa crossed the distance between them.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The returned greeting surprised her enough that she nearly lost the question.
Nearly.
She turned on the recorder. “Do you think you’ve shown enough during camp to be the opening-night starter over Cole?”
Matvei’s gaze stayed on her face.
“Yes.”
The answer was so immediate that Tessa almost smiled.
“What do you think you’ve shown?”
“That I am ready.”
“Physically?”
“In every way.”
She waited, wondering whether he might add something else.
He didn’t.
Tessa nodded. “Thank you.”
She switched off the recorder.
Matvei glanced toward Cole’s stall, where another television reporter had begun asking nearly the same questions.
“He play good,” Matvei said.
Tessa looked back at him.
“Cole?”
“Yes. He deserves chance too.”
The recorder remained off.
She considered turning it back on, then decided not to. He had offered the sentence after the interview ended. Maybe he intended it for the story. Maybe he didn’t. Until she knew, it did not belong to her.
“I’m sure he appreciates that,” she said.
Matvei’s mouth shifted slightly. “Do not tell him.”
“I thought you just told a room full of reporters.”
“You turn off recorder.”
“I did.”
He looked at the device in her hand, then back at her. For a moment, Tessa felt as though he was evaluating the choice.
“Good,” he said.
The word should not have affected her.
It was approval of a basic professional decision, nothing more. She had turned off the recorder because the interview was finished, not because she wanted to prove something to him.
Still, warmth moved through her chest before she could stop it.
She tucked the recorder into her pocket. “Good luck.”
“For what?”
“The decision.”
Matvei glanced toward Cole again. “Coach decides.”
“You still want it.”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in the answer, no attempt to hide ambition beneath the expected language about supporting his teammate. Tessa respected it.
She was also suddenly too aware of how close she stood to him.
The locker room had not changed. Reporters continued moving between stalls, equipment staff carried bags through the center aisle and music played from the speaker near the showers. There was no private quality to the conversation.
But Matvei was looking directly at her, his brown eyes warmer than the guarded expression around them. Nina had been right about that too. He was not cute. The word was too harmless for a man who seemed to occupy more space than anyone around him, even while seated.
He was attractive.
Objectively.
Tessa took a step back.
“I’ll see you opening night.”
Matvei nodded and returned to his laces.
Tessa walked away without looking back.
She spoke with the head coach Mike McDonough in the hallway, where he declined to announce an opening-night starter yet and praised both goaltenders for their work throughout camp.
She asked whether Joona’s offensive production had made the final roster decision or whether the team had been convinced by other parts of his game.
The answer gave her the lead for the roster story.
By the time she returned upstairs, she had enough material for three separate pieces: Joona making the team, the difficult final cut and the unresolved goaltending decision.
She opened the goalie story first.
The Convoy ended training camp with the same question that followed them into it: Who will start in goal on opening night?
Tessa entered Cole’s answer, then Matvei’s.
“Yes,” Belov said when asked whether he believed he had shown enough to earn the start. “I am ready. In every way.”
She did not include the sentence about Cole.
It had been offered after the recorder stopped, and she had not asked whether it was on the record. The quote would have improved the story by softening the competition and showing that Matvei respected the younger goaltender.
She left it out anyway.
The choice should have felt routine.
Instead, she thought of the way Matvei had looked at the recorder and said, Good.
Tessa pushed the thought aside and continued writing.
The article remained balanced. Cole had performed well throughout camp and proven the previous season that he could handle NHL starts. Matvei had looked healthier, more controlled and more like the established goaltender who had carried Halifax for years before everything went wrong.
The coaches had a decision to make.
Tessa did not pretend to know what it would be.
She completed the goalie story, then moved into the roster piece.
Joona’s quotes provided the heart of it, while Viktor’s comments explained why the team believed the young winger could handle the transition.
Carver’s absence remained present throughout the story even though he had not been there to speak.
Opportunity for one player always came at someone else’s expense.
When she finally stopped typing, the practice rink had emptied and most of the media had left for the afternoon.
Her phone vibrated beside the laptop.
Nina: Lunch next Wednesday is still happening. This is your reminder seven days early.
Tessa smiled and typed a response.
Tessa: It’s in my calendar.
Three dots appeared.
Nina: How’s the cute one?
Tessa stared at the message.
She could have ignored it. She could have corrected Nina again or explained that Matvei’s entire day had been devoted to an opening-night competition that had nothing to do with whether he was attractive.
Instead, she looked toward the empty ice and remembered the way he had said she was always there.
Tessa: Still rude.
She sent it before reconsidering.
Nina’s response arrived almost immediately.
Nina: That wasn’t my question.
Tessa locked her phone and returned it to the desk.
Nothing had changed.
She was still the reporter assigned to cover the Convoy. Matvei was still the most complicated player on the team, and every interaction with him remained part of her job.
The only difference was that she had started noticing the moments between the questions.
That felt considerably more dangerous.