Chapter 2
The old Valkyries rink looked like it belonged in a documentary about underfunded community sports programs. Lex Landry stood in the parking lot with a duffel bag over one shoulder and her gear bag at her feet, squinting at the squat concrete building with its faded signage and a roof that appeared to be held together by determination and duct tape.
A gust of warm coastal wind blew her dark hair across her face and she pushed it back impatiently.
She'd played in stadiums that held thirty thousand people.
She'd trained at facilities with hydrotherapy pools and altitude chambers and nutrition labs that cost more per year than this entire building was worth.
She'd walked away from all of it, and she'd do it again, but that didn't mean she couldn't miss the amenities.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from her new agent: Good luck today. Don't fight with anyone.
Lex grinned and pocketed the phone without replying.
The front door was propped open with a rubber doorstop.
Inside, the lobby was small and dated, with a trophy case against one wall holding a handful of plaques and a framed team photo from last season's qualification run.
The air was cooler inside, carrying the familiar chemical bite of rink air.
Different from the field hockey grass she'd spent her career on, but not entirely foreign.
She'd skated as a kid, before her mother had decided field hockey was the path to a scholarship and anything else was a waste of time.
"Lex Landry?"
She turned. Two women were walking toward her from the direction of the gym.
The first was tall and solidly built, with short dark hair and a weathered, competent look that came from years of grinding in a sport that didn't pay.
Lou Calder, she guessed. Team captain. Lex had done her homework.
Beside her was a striking blonde with sharp features and an effortless poise that reminded Lex of the European athletes she'd competed against in international tournaments.
Camille Laurent-Dubois. The one who'd come out publicly last season after leaving an NBA player.
Lex respected that. Coming out when the whole world was watching took guts most people never had to find.
"That's me," Lex said.
Lou extended her hand. Scarred knuckles, strong grip. "Lou Calder. Welcome."
"Thanks. Nice place you've got here." Lex glanced around the lobby with the barest hint of a smile.
Lou's mouth twitched. "It grows on you. We're moving to the new arena soon. It's better."
"I believe you." Lex shifted her duffel higher on her shoulder, taking in the scuffed linoleum and the trophy case with its faded photos.
Camille stepped forward and shook her hand, warm and polished. "Camille. Glad you're here. I've seen your field hockey footage. You're going to terrify some goalies."
"That's the plan."
They walked her down a corridor with buzzing overhead lights and the faint smell of old sweat baked into the walls.
The gym was through a set of double doors, compact but well-equipped.
Free weights, cable machines, a row of bikes, mats piled in the corner.
A woman was stretching near the far wall, dark hair tied back, composed expression, watching Lex enter with calm interest.
"Elise Moreno," Lou said. "Your roommate."
Elise stood and crossed the gym with an easy stride. She was tall, strong with a discipline that suggested training rather than raw power, with a steady presence that made a room feel quieter. She offered her hand with a warm smile.
"Welcome to Phoenix Ridge. I've got the spare room set up for you at the apartment. There's actual furniture now, which is more than I had when I moved in."
Lex grinned. She liked her immediately. "Thanks. I travel light, so don't worry about space."
"We can head over after practice. I'll show you around the neighborhood. There's a great coffee place, Lavender's, about three blocks from us. They do a lesbian night on Fridays that's apparently the social event of the season around here."
Lex's grin widened. She leaned against a cable machine, arms crossed. "This city has a lesbian night at a coffee shop?" Lex shook her head, smiling. "I already like it."
Camille laughed. "Phoenix Ridge takes care of its own. You'll see."
They chatted for a few more minutes. Lou asked about her ice hockey background, Lex kept it brief: skating as a kid, some pickup games through the years, fourteen months of intensive training since leaving the federation.
She'd spent the first ten months at a private hockey academy in Minnesota before signing with the Valkyries.
Camille asked what it was like switching sports at this level.
Lex shrugged. "Ask me in a month. Right now it's equal parts terrifying and addictive. "
Lou checked the time on the gym clock. "Coach wants to see you before practice. I'll take you to her office."
Lex grabbed her duffel. The corridor to the coaching offices was narrow and cold, the concrete walls lined with whiteboards covered in play diagrams and practice schedules. Lou stopped outside a door marked M. Ellison — Head Coach and knocked twice.
"Come in."
Lou pushed the door open and stepped aside. "Lex Landry, Coach."
Lex walked in.
The office was small and cluttered. Bookshelves packed with coaching manuals and game film binders.
A desk buried under papers, a laptop, and a coffee mug with the Valkyries logo.
Tactical boards on every wall, covered in magnetic pieces and dry-erase arrows.
It smelled like coffee, cut with the faint pine of an air freshener that was losing the battle against the old-building mustiness.
And behind the desk, standing to greet her, was Mara Ellison.
Lex's first thought was that the photos online didn't do her justice.
Mara was tall, broad-shouldered, athletic even in her late forties, with the kind of build that came from decades of serious physical commitment.
Her blonde hair, threaded with grey, was pulled back in a tight ponytail that accentuated a strong jawline and sharp blue eyes.
She wore a dark coaching jacket zipped to the collar, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms that looked like they'd spent years gripping sticks and rink boards.
Everything about her projected authority, the kind worn into the bones rather than performed.
Oh no. She knew this feeling. She'd been drawn to exactly this type her entire adult life: older women with sharp edges and complicated interiors.
The ones who looked like they'd break you if you got too close but might be worth the damage.
It had never ended well, and here she was, her very first minute in the office, looking at the one person she absolutely could not want.
A golden retriever emerged from behind the desk and bounded toward Lex with its whole body wagging. Lex dropped to one knee immediately, letting the dog push into her, tail thumping against her leg.
"Hey, gorgeous. Oh, look at you." She rubbed the dog's ears and neck, letting it lick her chin. The fur was soft and warm under her fingers, and the dog's enthusiastic joy was the perfect antidote to the tension building in her chest.
"That's Goldie," Mara said. Her voice was measured, formal. The voice of a woman who was not going to make this easy. She stood behind her desk with her arms folded, watching Lex on the floor with her dog.
"She's perfect." Lex looked up from the dog. Mara's expression was carefully neutral, but a reaction moved behind those blue eyes. Surprise, maybe, at Lex's softness with the dog. Or wariness. Probably wariness.
"Have a seat."
Lex sat. Goldie settled beside her chair, pressing against her leg. Mara remained standing for a moment, looking down at her with an expression Lex couldn't read, then sat behind her desk.
"Welcome to the Valkyries. I'll be direct with you because that's how I operate. This team runs on discipline and systems. Every player buys in or they sit. No exceptions. Your reputation suggests you have a problem with authority."
"My reputation suggests a lot of things."
"I don't deal in suggestions. I deal in what I see on the ice." Mara's eyes were steady, unblinking. "You're talented. Astoria showed me the testing footage. But talent without structure is chaos, and I don't tolerate chaos in my rink."
Lex held her gaze. The warm thing in her stomach was getting worse. Mara's intensity was magnetic, a focused energy that made Lex want to push back just to see what happened. She clasped her hands in her lap and kept her face neutral.
"I'm here to play hockey. That's all."
"Good. Because you have a lot of work ahead of you. Field hockey skills don't transfer one-to-one. Your skating needs refinement. Your positioning is raw. You'll need extra one-on-one sessions with me outside of regular practice to get your fundamentals up to standard."
Lex bristled. The words stung like a dismissal of everything she'd ever accomplished, every title, every championship, every record. Just because she was good at one sport didn't mean she'd be good at this one. That was what Mara was saying without saying it.
Watch me.
"I'll be there," Lex said. "Every session."
"I know you will. Because if you're not, you don't play."
They looked at each other. The office was quiet except for the hum of the fluorescent lights and Goldie's steady breathing.
Lex could smell Mara's coffee and beneath it a scent clean and faintly sharp, like soap or the lingering cold of ice.
The distance between them was the width of a desk and it felt much smaller.
Lex had a sudden, vivid awareness of Mara's hands resting flat on the desk's surface: strong, unringed, nails trimmed short.