Chapter One #2
Hayes, from just outside the open door, made a sound that might have been pain.
Coop did not.
Coop’s face stayed still.
Doyle adjusted his clipboard. “The practical point is this: the end-of-season review will now include a competitive viability component. The department will want to see evidence that continued investment positions Brookfield to compete, not merely participate.”
The words landed like cold water.
Not merely participate.
Frankie hated every syllable.
Reese took one step forward. “We won equitable ice. We increased attendance. We helped raise travel-nutrition funds. We have merch demand. We have donor engagement.”
“All true,” Doyle said.
“Then don’t make small sound like temporary.”
Claire looked at Reese with quiet approval.
Sutter said, “Good.”
Very good, then.
Doyle spread his hands. “No one is suggesting the program is temporary.”
Frankie stared at him.
Doyle made the mistake of meeting her eyes.
He looked away first.
Smart.
Brenda jumped in. “This could be an opportunity. Westbridge’s arrival brings visibility. Rivalry games. Possible showcase events.”
“Against a ranked, funded team,” Dani said.
“Yes,” Brenda said. “Which is why performance matters.”
Birdie leaned toward Wren. “I’m going to bite someone.”
Wren whispered, “Wait for legal clearance.”
Claire clasped her hands. “The recommendation being discussed is a joint showcase before the end-of-season review. Brookfield men’s and women’s hockey together.
Donor-facing. Press-facing. Westbridge invited.
A chance to demonstrate that this program is not only meaningful internally, but competitive externally. ”
Reese’s eyes sharpened.
There.
A door.
Not a nice one.
Still a door.
“And who runs this showcase?” Reese asked.
Doyle looked relieved to have reached the productive portion of the ambush. “That’s still being discussed.”
“No,” Sutter said.
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed at Doyle’s clipboard. “Discussed means vanished. Names.”
Doyle exhaled through his nose. “We’d want leadership from both programs.”
Hayes stepped into the doorway now. “Reese and I can coordinate captains.”
“No,” Sutter said again.
Hayes stopped.
Sutter looked at him. “You two are the obvious choice. Which makes you the wrong one.”
Reese’s mouth curved faintly.
Hayes looked mildly offended, but in a respectful way.
Claire nodded slowly. “Actually, Coach has a point. Reese and Hayes already represent the Book—” She stopped herself. “The existing partnership.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed, like she had just detected narrative structure.
Doyle frowned. “Then who?”
Sutter’s gaze moved across the room.
Frankie’s stomach sank before the eyes landed.
No.
Absolutely not.
Sutter looked at her.
Then past her.
Frankie turned her head.
Coop stood in the hall beside Hayes, no longer smiling.
No.
No, no, no.
Sutter said, “Callahan and Vale.”
Birdie made a sound like a teakettle discovering gossip.
Frankie said, “Do not.”
Sutter’s eyes returned to her. “Good. You’re both awake.”
Coop’s eyebrows lifted.
For once, he did not immediately make a joke.
That was worse.
Reese folded her arms, studying Frankie with captain eyes and friend eyes and the terrible combination of both.
Frankie stared back.
No.
Reese’s expression said, Yes.
Betrayal wore a ponytail.
Doyle looked between Frankie and Coop. “The goalie?”
Frankie’s head snapped toward him.
The room temperature dropped.
Doyle realized his error.
“Meaning,” he added quickly, “not usually a public-facing role.”
“Goalies face things,” Frankie said.
Birdie whispered, “Put that on a shirt.”
Wren was already typing.
Coop stepped into the locker room doorway but stayed outside the threshold. Respectful. Careful.
Infuriatingly decent.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
Frankie looked at him.
He looked back.
Warm again, but quieter now.
Serious underneath.
“If Frankie agrees,” Coop added.
The room shifted.
Tiny thing.
Massive problem.
He had not volunteered them both.
He had not charmed over her no.
He had left the door open.
Frankie hated doors.
People expected you to walk through them.
Doyle cleared his throat. “We would need an answer quickly. The first planning session would be tomorrow.”
“Of course it would,” Birdie muttered.
Frankie glanced around the room.
At Dani, worried and calculating.
At Wren, already building a communications plan in her head.
At Birdie, vibrating with rage and loyalty.
At Reese, steady.
At Sutter, unreadable.
At the program they had clawed into visibility one argument, one shift, one written agreement at a time.
The wall inside Frankie rose on instinct.
Safe.
Hard.
Useful.
Then her eyes went, traitorous and stupid, to the protein bar still tucked beside her water bottle on the bench.
Peanut butter.
Remembered.
No pressure.
Frankie looked back at Coop.
His face did not ask her to make this easy.
That helped.
A little.
She turned to Doyle. “Fine.”
Birdie inhaled like the opening note of an opera.
Frankie pointed at her without looking. “No.”
Birdie closed her mouth.
Frankie faced Doyle again. “But there are rules.”
Coop’s mouth twitched.
Frankie narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t know them yet.”
“I assumed.”
“Wrong.”
“Fair.”
She held up one finger. “No calling this a charm offensive.”
Doyle blinked. “I wasn’t—”
“Someone will.”
Wren lifted her hand. “They will.”
Second finger. “No using the women’s team as emotional wallpaper for donor photos.”
Claire nodded. “Agreed.”
Third finger. “No surprise press.”
Wren said, “Deeply agreed.”
Fourth finger. “No making Coop talk first because he smiles more.”
Coop’s expression changed.
Just a flicker.
But Frankie saw it.
That worked.
Let him be seen too.
Doyle looked mildly pained. “Anything else?”
Frankie considered.
Then said, “Protein bars are not flirting.”
Birdie dropped onto the bench.
Reese looked at the ceiling.
Hayes turned away.
Coop’s smile came back slowly.
Not bright.
Not teasing.
Something worse.
Something soft.
“Understood,” he said.
Frankie regretted everything.
Sutter pushed off the wall.
“Good,” she said.
There it was again.
Excellent work.
Prepare to die.
Possibly both.
Frankie sat down and reached for her water bottle.
DO NOT PERISH stared back at her in black marker.
Solid advice.
Because Cooper Vale was still standing in the doorway.
Still looking at her like she was not a wall.
Like she was a person behind one.
And the season had just found a brand-new way to shoot high glove.