Chapter 16 Oliver
Oliver
Cameras flash as we take our seats behind the long table at the front of the press room.
Steele, River, Laiken, Knox, Jax, Zane, and I are the players chosen to represent the team.
We’re all dressed in suits. Laiken tugs at his collar before leaning toward the microphone in front of him.
Water bottles glint beneath the lights like evidence on display.
Zane leans back, flashing a grin at the crowd. “I’ll probably be the one fielding all the questions. You know, since I’m the face of the franchise and all.”
Steele doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re the face of something, all right. But it isn’t the franchise.”
Laughter ripples down the line.
Even Laiken’s mouth twitches.
Jax elbows River. “How much do you want to bet he practices that smile in the mirror?”
“Damn right I do,” Zane fires back, too wrapped up in himself to realize it was a jab.
I take a sip of water to hide a smile. They’ll keep needling him because he makes it so damn easy.
There’s a routine to these events. Small talk and canned charm as the press waits to pounce on anything worth printing.
The moderator clears his throat. “We’ll start with a few questions.”
The first ones are softballs.
“How’s the team shaping up this season?”
Steele goes into captain mode, his response calm and clipped. “We’ve got depth, speed, and guys who know how to grind. We like where we’re at.”
Another one follows.
“Jax, you’re new to Chicago. How’s the transition been?”
Jax leans in with effortless swagger. “Actually, I’m loving it. The guys have been great, and the fans are unreal. I can’t wait to see what we do this year.”
The easy tempo holds, filled with banter, laughter, and flashes until the moderator glances toward River. The atmosphere shifts as cameras tilt forward.
“River, has your engagement caused any tension in the locker room, considering your fiancée was previously with your teammate?”
Every head turns in his direction.
River’s jaw flexes once before he answers. “None at all. Zane and I are professionals. Whatever’s in the past stays there. Our only focus is on winning.”
Zane raises both hands. “See? No hard feelings here. I’m the bigger man in this situation.”
He winks at the cameras, and laughter ripples, thin and brittle this time.
Then the moderator’s gaze lands on me. “Oliver, would you like to comment on your personal life? You’ve been keeping a low profile lately.”
The noise fades to static as every camera lens locks on me, waiting for a response. They want a quote. Something they can spin.
The standard lines sit perched on the tip of my tongue.
I’m focused on hockey or just trying to be the best teammate I can be.
It’s tempting to toss one of them out and keep things tidy.
Safe.
Forgettable.
But I’m so goddamn tired of hiding behind that script.
The truth is, I’m not thinking about hockey right now. I’m thinking about Rina and how she’s been avoiding me for days. How I’ve let her walk away every time instead of stopping her. I’ve spent half my life keeping things light and surface level, focused on hockey.
And what has it gotten me?
A lonely penthouse and a woman who thinks I have no idea how to be serious, loyal, and trustworthy.
Maybe it’s time to change that perception.
I lean toward the microphone, my fingers tightening around the plastic water bottle until it creaks. “Actually, there is someone.”
The room freezes with that unexpected response.
From behind the rows of press, Rina’s head jerks up. She’s half-hidden near the back, tablet hugged against her like a shield. Her dark hair slips forward, but it’s her eyes that hold my attention.
They’re wide and filled with shock.
“She’s not ready to make it public yet,” I continue. “Although, I’m all in and have been for a while where this woman is concerned.”
The silence lasts for exactly one beat before it detonates. Voices erupt and questions fly from every direction as camera shutters snap in rapid succession.
“Is she with the organization?”
“Is it Gabby Wellington?”
“Oliver, are you confirming a relationship with Gabby?”
“Is it someone else?”
They’re shouting over one another now. It’s a wall of noise that closes in on me.
Zane clears his throat and leans into the mic, trying to recapture their attention. “Just in case anyone forgot, I got engaged. And my new show—”
But no one’s listening as every lens and flash stay trained on me.
The color drains from Rina’s cheeks before flooding back in a rush.
Even from here, the tremor in her hand where it grips the tablet is unmistakable.
Her gaze darts toward the door, as if she’s mapping out an escape route.
She presses back against the wall as her eyes remain locked on mine.
There’s panic, disbelief, and beneath it all, something that’s raw.
I don’t move.
Instead, I let the storm build and take me with it.
This time, there’s no hiding.
I catch the blur of movement as she turns away, shoulders squared, chin held high. The only sign she’s rattled is the tightness of her jaw. A flash pops and catches her profile just before she disappears behind the curtain.
That image sears itself into my head as the moderator tries to restore order, but it’s useless.
I lean back in my chair, a slow curve tugging at the corner of my mouth.
As far as I’m concerned, I just put that woman on notice.
Rina Reynolds can run all she wants, but I’m done pretending or playing games. She knows exactly how I feel. The next move is hers to make.