Chapter Nine
Shaking Things Up
Shane
Present
I sat next to Nathan Black at the team roster announcement press conference in early October, my arms tightly crossed, gaze focused on the microphone in front of me.
I was pissed, but had to act like every decision he was announcing was a team one that I backed completely. I hoped I looked relaxed and neutral the way I did during any press conference I wasn’t exactly looking forward to — like the ones that came after a brutal loss.
This felt even worse than that, somehow.
It was the first time in my career with the Ospreys that my choices weren’t just second-guessed, but overridden completely. Dick had always trusted my instinct on which players to start, which to send to the AHL for now, and which to let go completely.
Nathan, on the other hand, had smiled at me and patted my shoulder like I was some fucking kid, and he thought my efforts were adorable.
Then, he’d smashed my plans to pieces.
For the most part, our starters were the same. It was hard to argue that the guys on our first and second lines didn’t deserve those spots. They were fierce, hungry — ready to go after the Stanley Cup after losing in the playoff race last season.
But from there, things went haywire.
Nathan chose to send players down to the AHL who I argued deserved a spot with the Ospreys. He put a veteran on waivers, someone who the fans assumed would retire an Osprey — me included. And perhaps the most controversial decision — he kept on a rookie who was vastly outplayed in camp.
As if I hadn’t had enough of his bullshit explaining this to me and my staff, I now had to listen to him charm the pants off everyone in the press room and hope this didn’t fall back on me in the end.
“We had some really competitive camp battles this year,” he continued, answering a journalist’s question about his decision regarding the rookie. “These are good problems to have — depth is a luxury. We want guys who play hungry, and Baranov earned his spot.”
“And Wood didn’t?” the journalist probed.
My stomach soured at the mention of our ten-year veteran, who was now on waivers, waiting to see if anyone in the league would take a chance on him before noon tomorrow.
“Wood has served this team incredibly, but all journeys must come to an end. I have faith he will find even more success with the team lucky enough to claim him off waivers.”
Lights flashed, more hands shot up into the air, all of the journalists in the room clamoring to be the one Nathan addressed next.
A few minutes passed in a daze before someone asked me how I was feeling about the season ahead with the roster set, and I faked my best confidence as I answered that the team was strong and ready.
Neither was a lie, but I was far from feeling my best with the way the rug had been yanked from under my feet courtesy of my new GM.
When the attention was back on Nathan, I let mine wander around the room.
I clocked every reporter, the ones furiously scribbling or typing, and the ones live streaming from their phones. I noted their expressions, which varied from shocked and disappointed to absolutely riveted.
And then my eyes found Ari.
She was standing off to the side, her back against the wall like she wished she could disappear into it.
She was dressed modestly in a navy-blue pencil skirt and white blouse, the cuffs and lapel of which were lace.
Her hair was fastened into a secure bun at the nape of her neck, her makeup light and flawless.
She looked sad.
I couldn’t place why I felt that way. She was smiling, her hands folded demurely in front of her hips, her eyes sparkling as she watched her husband like he had hung the moon. One of our PR interns stood next to her, and when she leaned in to whisper something, it made Ariana laugh.
But there was something under the surface, something she was hiding.
As if she felt my gaze burning a hole into the side of her head, her smile faltered. She blinked, frowning, and then her eyes snapped to mine.
My next breath burned a little as I tried to smile at her, the corner of my lips ticking up before falling again.
I wondered if it would ever pass, the strange sensation of both pain and longing that seared me when she looked at me.
Decades had passed between us, and yet I could blink and still see her at twenty-years-old, wearing my hoodie, a pen chewed to bits between her teeth as she pinched her brows in concentration over a sociology book.
I thought she’d tear her gaze away, but perhaps Ariana was taking this stolen moment we had to let herself linger. Every interaction we’d had until now had been rushed, but in this moment, neither of us had anywhere else to be — and no one was paying attention to us.
Her lips quirked up, just marginally, and the prettiest flush crept across her cheeks.
The sight was enough to make me pant. I wanted so badly to get her alone, to ask her the millions of questions that had been plaguing me since her arrival.
But as quickly as that small smile had come, it was wiped away, her gaze turning cold. And I knew it without needing confirmation.
She’d just remembered that I’d left her when she needed me most.
I felt the ice she shot my way with that glare, the accusation, the hurt. I had only done what I thought was right, what I felt would be best for both of us — most of all her.
But now that I was older, I looked back at that young decision I’d made, and I didn’t see a hero. I didn’t see a man acting out of love.
I just saw a selfish, scared little boy.
And I hated him just as much as she did.
“Listen, I know it can be hard having a fresh face and new blood making decisions,” Nathan said beside me.
My focus was still on Ariana, who was watching me in return, though with more wariness now than anything.
“We’re making a few changes here at the Ospreys this season, yes.
New faces, fresh energy — but we’re also keeping the same values this organization, and this city, have always been built on.
In fact, I’m proud to announce that my wife, Ariana Black, will be heading our Sweet Dreams Initiative this year. ”
Ariana jumped as though she’d been caught stealing a signed jersey from our trophy case when the attention of the room swung to her. She recovered quickly, her smile wide and lovely as she held up a hand in a polite wave to those looking at her.
But again, I swore I saw it — a slip in the performance, the mask faltering just long enough to glimpse the woman beneath it.
“It’s a program near to our hearts, focused on rest and mental health for our city’s youth. Thanks to a generous donation from one of our longtime partners, we’ll have an expanded budget to reach even more families in need.”
Cameras flashed again, a murmur breaking out among the crowd. Someone murmured, “Wow, that’s great,” as Nathan nodded with a beaming smile.
I looked to Ariana once more, and wondered why the joy looked performative to me. If anything I used to know about her remained true, this would be a dream for her. She loved to work in the community. It was all she’d ever wanted.
That only sent more questions swirling through my head.
Had she ever finished her degree? Did she go into social work like she’d planned?
Was that what she did now — or was this it?
The fact that Nathan had her positioned front and center on this project made something uneasy twist in my gut.
Did she have a job at all, or was she just another extension of him?
“We’re not just building a winning team,” Nathan added, his voice booming. “We’re building a legacy — on and off the ice.”
I felt my jaw lock as he continued, heat rushing sharp and fast through my blood.
It took real effort not to react — not to shift, not to say something reckless, not to knock that polished grin straight off his face.
I curled my fingers into my palm, nails biting into skin, grounding myself in the sting of it.
Then his hand came down on my shoulder, firm and proprietary, and I had to fight the sudden, vivid urge to shrug him off — or worse, to see how easily his fingers would break.
He squeezed, all smiles for the cameras, like we were allies instead of adversaries. “Me and this guy,” he said, flashing the room that same confident grin, “we’re going to bring the Cup home to Tampa this year.”
I forced the best smile I could muster as the room erupted with more questions, but our PR team called the end of the conference, instructing the press where they could go for further information.
I stood instantly, fastening the button on my suit jacket before shaking hands with Nathan and posing for a few photos. Then, we were ushered out the back to the next room over, where staff waited to debrief.
Ariana slid in wordlessly, her husband cheerfully boasting about the press already. He had his phone out and was reading quote after quote about how he was being called a bold, daring visionary.
I exerted more energy than I ever had in the weight room just trying not to roll my eyes.
The moment Nathan realized Ariana was with us, he clapped for her like she was the star of the show, pulling her in for a swift kiss before hooking a hand around her hip.
“Well, did I surprise you, my love?” he asked, his grin a permanent thing.
Ariana’s smile was demure as ever. “You certainly did.”
“And are you pleased?”
“It’s a lovely initiative,” she answered.
“And the perfect thing to keep you busy and get you back in the swing of things,” Nathan said, thumbing her chin. “See? I told you I know what you need.”
Ariana wore a closed-lip smile, but leaned up on her toes to kiss her husband.
I watched all of this from the corner of my eye, all the while listening to Kozak fill me in on how Wood took the news earlier.
My assistant was just as gutted as I was to lose Wood, but we had no choice but to take it in stride.
I assured him we’d figure it out, one step at a time, and then excused myself from the conversation with a quick squeeze of his shoulder.
I swung to Nathan and Ariana next.
“Congratulations on the Sweet Dreams donation,” I said to Nathan. “Maven has put so much into that, I know she’ll be thrilled to hear there is even more to work with now.” I slid my gaze to Ari next. “And I know she’ll be over the moon to have you as her partner.”
“Ariana will be leading, in fact,” Nathan corrected. “As you know, Maven has her hands full these days with a nearly one-year-old. She has asked to take a significant step back. She still wants to be involved, of course, as well as Grace, but they will both take orders from our new general here.”
He rubbed Ariana’s arm with a prideful smile, and she leaned into him like she loved him more fiercely than anything in the world, like he’d given her the best gift.
He has, you stupid motherfucker, and she does love him.
They are married, in case you forgot.
The reminder was a stinging one, and it had me shaking my head at how foolish I was being, searching her for clues she was unhappy because selfishly, I hoped she never could be happy with him — or with anyone who wasn’t me.
If my stomach was sour before, it was a rotted pit with that realization.
All those years ago when I made the choice I did, all I wanted was for her to be happy. Now, here she was, as happy as she could be — married to a rich, handsome man whom everyone adored, who took care of her, who knew giving her the Sweet Dreams initiative would bring her joy.
It seemed I was the only one who wasn’t charmed by him, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t know why.
Sure, I didn’t agree with all the choices he was making for the team, but he was doing what any new GM would — shaking things up.
My disdain for him rested solely in the fact that he had Ariana, and I was jealous.
Once again, I was behaving like a selfish little boy. It was like I couldn’t fucking help it when it came to her.
I internally shook my head at myself before taking a deep breath and giving a real smile, one I hoped Ariana could see was genuine. “I’m really happy for you, Ariana. I know the program will thrive beneath your charge.”
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze a bit questioning.
“If you ever need help wrangling the team to get involved, just say the word,” I added.
“Oh!” Nathan snapped his fingers, as if a light bulb had just flickered on in his brain.
“That’s genius, actually. We could have the players out in the community, delivering mattresses and taking pictures with the kids.
I like the optics here. Shane, can you work the first few meetings into your schedule and get on board with Maven, Grace, and my beautiful wife here? ”
“I’m sure he’s too busy to—”
“Of course,” I answered, not letting Ariana finish her assumption. “It would be my pleasure.”
And for the first time that night, I didn’t have to force my smile or veil a lie.
It would be my pleasure.
Anything to have more time with Ari.