Power Pucking Play (Chicago Blades)

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Gio

T here's nothing quite like the smell of home ice. As I step into the Blades' practice rink, I'm hit with that familiar mix of sweat, rubber, and pure adrenaline. We're back in Chicago, and the playoffs are so close I can taste them.

"De Luca!" Coach's voice booms across the ice. "My office. Now."

I exchange a look with Jacob, who just shrugs. "What'd you do this time, Icebreaker?"

"Exist, apparently," I mutter, making my way to Coach's office.

As I step inside, I'm greeted by Coach's patented “I'm-not-mad-I'm-just-disappointed” face.

Fucking fantastic. This ought to be fun.

"Have a seat, Gio," he says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

I plop down, trying for my most charming smile. "What's up, Coach? If this is about the rubber chickens in the locker room, I swear that was all Evan's idea."

Coach doesn't crack a smile. Double fantastic.

"This isn't about pranks, De Luca. This is about your future with the Blades."

My stomach tightens. "My future? What are you talking about?"

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. "I just got off the phone with George Corso. The owner's not happy with your...extracurricular activities on the ice."

"Extracurricular activities? Still? What, is checking illegal now?"

"Cut the crap, Gio," Coach snaps. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. The fights, the penalties, the bad press. He wants to make sure you're really putting a stop to this shit."

I lean forward, my jaw clenching. "Coach, come on. You saw the Seattle game. I didn't even retaliate after that cheap shot."

"I know that, Gio. But you can't deny that your reputation precedes you. And with the playoffs coming up, we can't afford to have any distractions or suspensions." He shakes his head. "Not anymore, it's not. Corso's made it clear: one more aggressive move on the ice, and you're benched. I don't have to tell you..."

"That there's a lingering threat of me being off the team entirely?"

"Precisely." He frowns, his gray eyes troubled. "Look, I know you're a talented player, Gio. One of the damn best. But...you're also one of the most liability-prone." Coach counters. "No one in management is actually convinced that your 'brawling hiatus' is genuine. They're keeping a close eye on you."

I swallow tightly, feeling like I've been punched in the gut. This can't be happening.

"So, what do I have to do?" I ask quietly, my mind already racing with possible solutions.

"You need to prove that you're not just all brawn and no brains," Coach says firmly. "You gotta show them that you can control your temper and play smart." He leans forward, his tone serious. "Otherwise, it's not just your future with the Blades at stake—it's your entire career."

I sit back, my mind going a million miles a minute.

Goddammit.

Hockey's my life, my everything. Without it, without the Blades, who the hell am I?

"There's something else," Coach says, his tone softening slightly. "This Sports News Now feature they're doing on you. I think it's time to call it off."

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. "The feature? What does that have to do with anything?"

Coach leans forward, his expression serious. "Think about it, De Luca. You really want some reporter digging into your past, airing all your dirty laundry? Especially now, when your position on the team is already shaky?"

For a moment, I'm tempted. It would be so easy to call Lexi, tell her the deal's off. To go back to the way things were before when she was just another nosy reporter, and I was just the bad boy of hockey.

But then I remember the way she looked at me in Seattle.

The way she cheered for me during the game, wearing my jersey like a badge of honor. The softness in her eyes when we talked about Nonna, about my parents, about all of it.

"No," I say, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "I'm not calling it off."

Coach raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that? This Brookes woman's made a career out of tearing you apart in print. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

I stand up, suddenly feeling too confined in this tiny office. "Because I trust her," I say, the words feeling strange but right on my tongue. "She's...she's different, Coach. She's not just looking for dirt. She wants the real story."

"And you think you can give her that without it blowing up in your face?"

"Guess we'll find out. I've got an on-the-record interview with her tonight. I'm not backing out now."

Coach sighs, rubbing his temples. "You're playing with fire here, De Luca. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Yeah," I mutter as I head for the door. "Me too."

As I step back onto the ice, my mind's a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Fear, anger, determination...and something else. Something that feels a lot like hope.

"Everything okay?" Jacob asks as I skate up to him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I force a grin. "Nah, just the ghost of my career past. Apparently, I'm one fight away from early retirement."

Jacob winces. "Ouch. Corso laying down the law?"

"Something like that," I nod. "Guess I'll have to start channeling my inner Gandhi on the ice."

He snorts. "Right. And I'll start figure skating. Seriously, though, you gonna be okay with this?"

I shrug, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. "Do I have a choice? It's either play nice or kiss my spot with the Blades goodbye."

"There are worse things than being nice, you know," Jacob says, nudging me with his elbow. "Who knows? Maybe this is your chance to show everyone the Gio that I know and love."

"Aw, you getting sentimental on me now?"

"I'm just saying...I've known you since we were in grade school. You've always been a good guy, Gio. Don't let what happens on the ice define you."

I give him a half-smile, grateful for his words of encouragement. "Thanks, dude. I'll try to remember that when I'm getting pummeled on the ice."

We both laugh and head back to join the rest of the team for practice.

I think of Lexi, of the way she sees right through my bullshit. Of how, for the first time in my life, I actually want someone to know the real me. Not the tough guy.

Not the big bad defenseman. Not the enforcer.

But just Gio.

Maybe this feature is a blessing in disguise. A chance to finally shed this persona that I've been clinging to for so long.

Practice flies by in a blur of drills and strategy sessions. By the time we're done, I'm dripping with sweat, and my muscles are screaming, but my head feels clearer than it has in days.

As I'm changing in the locker room, my phone buzzes with a text from Lexi.

"Still on for tonight? Promise I won't bite. Much. ??"

I grin, feeling a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the hot shower I'm about to take.

"Wouldn't miss it. My place, 8 pm. Bring your A-game, Brookes."

Her reply is almost immediate.

"Always do, De Luca. Try to keep up."

As I head out of the rink, I can't shake the feeling that I'm standing on the edge of something big. Something that could change everything.

Part of me is terrified. What if I screw this up? What if Lexi's article does end up painting me as the villain? What if I can't change, can't be the player Corso wants me to be?

But another part—a part that's getting louder by the day—is excited. For the first time in years, I feel like I have a chance to write my own story. To show the world who I really am, not just who they think I am.

And with Lexi telling the story. Hell, maybe I can actually pull it off.

As I climb into my car, I catch sight of myself in the rearview mirror. The messy-haired guy looking back at me isn't the cocky hothead I've been for so long. He looks...hopeful. Determined. Maybe even a little scared.

But you know what? I kind of like him.

"All right, De Luca," I mutter to myself as I pull out of the parking lot. "Time to show 'em what you're really made of."