Chapter Fourteen

Rowan

Walking through the small waiting area of Sam’s office, I notice that Cammy isn’t at her desk. She’s probably out to lunch, but she’s not the reason for my visit.

I don’t have a scheduled appointment with Sam, but with Charles on my case, and a hunch on a lead that might distract my boss away from Bex, I walk up to Sam’s closed office door and rap my knuckles against the solid wood door.

I hear the sound of Sam pushing out of his rolling office chair and then the sound of his heavy footsteps coming closer to the door.

The moment the door opens, I’m greeted with a warm smile. “Rowan. What brings you to my office? Come in,” he offers, leaving the door open for me to walk through.

I take a deep breath, clutching my notebook a little tighter than necessary, and then close the door behind me. What I have to ask is private in nature. I don’t know if anyone else in the franchise has caught on to some of the hints I’ve noticed and with gossip the way it is around here, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the spread of a rumor if it turns out not to be true.

“I was hoping to get a few minutes of your time. I need to interview you about your future plans.”

It’s a weak cover, but Sam’s too laid-back to call me out on it. His expression doesn’t change; if anything, his smile deepens as he waves me over to the chair opposite his desk. “My future plans? Is there something I should know about, or is this your way of subtly asking if I’m about to announce my retirement?”

I laugh, though it’s more out of nerves than amusement. “You know, just doing my job. People have been speculating for a while now. You’ve had a long successful career and with the Hawkeyes practically creating the Assistant GM position for Penelope, people are beginning to ask questions.”

Sam leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “People are always speculating. That’s what they do best, right?”

“True,” I admit, glancing down at my notepad and pen in my hand. “But if anyone could set the record straight, it’s you.”

Sam doesn’t immediately respond. He looks past me, out the window where the city’s skyline stretches against the horizon, his face softening. “I’ve been with the Hawkeyes for a long time— longer than I anticipated. First as a player and now as the GM. I’ve had a long career in the sport but I can’t do this forever. It’s time for new blood and with it, a new GM,” He pauses, meeting my eyes again.

“Penelope,” I say, knowing the answer.

He nods. “The grind wears on you after a while and it makes you start thinking about what comes next.”

There isn’t a sadness in his voice like what I thought I’d expect to find. He seems almost hopeful for this next chapter. And I think I might know why. It’s not because he’s looking forward to what might be waiting on the other side of retirement—it’s because he already knows who is waiting.

“I don’t want to push you into anything,” I say carefully. “If you’re not ready to make an official statement—”

Sam interrupts with a grin. “Relax, Rowan. I know you’re just doing your job. If anyone’s going to report on it, I’d rather it happen with someone I trust. And I’d like it to come out on my own terms—after we win the Stanley Cup. Next year will be my last season but Penelope will be stepping into a large role, and I think it’s time that the fans hear it from me,” His tone is easy, reassuring. “I don’t want to distract from the playoffs. Do I have your word that you won’t release the article until I give you the ‘okay’? And I want a chance to read it over before you send it out into the world, as has been our agreement thus far.”

A rush of gratitude fills me. “Of course. You’ll have final approval before anything goes live.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with that. “Good. Now how's traveling with the team? Is Bex treating you okay out there on the road? You can tell me if I need to have a word with him.”

His question pulls me back to the present, and for a moment, I forget about the article, about the potential headline. All I can think about is Bex. The memory of our night together flickers to life in my mind, and I feel a heat rising in my chest.

“No, he's been as welcoming as Bex knows how to be, I think,” I say, though my voice sounds distant to my own ears. “I think we've reached an understanding,” I lie, though I'll call it wishful thinking.

Sam tilts his head, eyeing me as if he knows I'm fibbing. “You'll let me know if he steps out of turn?”

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. How does he know?

“Of course, thank you Sam.”

He nods. “Bex and I aren't all that different if you'd believe it." he says.

What did he just say? "Actually, I have a really hard time believing that. You both seem completely different. You seem even keeled, while Bex seems…" I fight to find a word that doesn't insult Bex right in front of Sam.

"Passionate?" Sam says, but that's not exactly the word I would use to describe Bex.

"Yeah, something like that," I say, thinking more along the lines of "hot-head".

But then again, there was something calming about Bex at the gala and then again in the back of the limo. Something that put me at ease in a way no one else has ever done before. And Bex is the last man on earth I thought would be capable of doing that for me.

"I'm several years older than Bex and my passion for the game has morphed more into a respect. I suppose I see it differently from the owner's box than I did from the ice," he says. "Perspective, I think. Something that Bex needs more of. He's too close to it sometimes. He needs a reason to look up from center ice once in a while."

"Something to remind him that there's more to life than the game… or maybe, someone ."

Wait a second.

Is he referring to me?

"Sam," I say, already shaking my head. "If you're insinuating that Bex has any interest in me, I can assure you that nothing could be further from the truth."

Sam just smiles. "Just do me a favor. Whatever happens between you two, just remember that Bex is a complicated guy. He's not what he seems from the outside at first glance. But you already know that don’t you?”

I nod, my heart heavy with the truth of it. “Yeah, I think I might have an idea.”

Sam studies me for a moment longer before offering a small, understanding smile. “You’ll figure it out, Rowan. One way or another, you will.”

I manage a weak smile in return, but the uncertainty lingers. I don’t know if I will figure it out, or if there’s even a way to untangle the mess I’ve gotten myself into. But as I leave Sam’s office and head back into the heart of the arena, I know one thing for sure—the story may be big, but it’s not the only thing on my mind.

Bex is still there, in the back of my thoughts, a constant presence that I can’t seem to shake.