Short Hand


    “Seattlees to town next Tuesday‘ Coach Donovan mentioned casually at the end of the artery strategy


    meeting “Reynolds first game back in Boston


    Emma kept her expression neutral despite the sudden tension in the roof. Two months had passed since


    the Adams scandal, and things had finally settled into a new normal. The media frenzy had eventually died.


    down. Adams recement on the Board–a progressive–minded woman with extensive sports managemer experience–had integrated seamlessly, and Emma and Alek had found afortable bnce between professional coboration and personal privacy


    Jack’s return threatened that hard won equilibrium


    “Marketing wants to know if we’re doing any acknowledgment, Peterson said, looking ufortable Video tribute or something for his years with the team”


    “Standard protocol for returning veteran yers is a brief highlight reel during the first timeout.” Alek replied evenly. “I see no reason to deviate.”


    Emma nodded in agreement. “Let’s treat this like any other former yer’s return. Nothing more, nothing


    less.”


    If only it were that simple.


    In the weeks since his trade, Jack <b>had </b>gradually rebuilt his image in Seattle. His y had improved considerably–enough to earn feature stories about his “career renaissance” and “fresh start” He’d given carefully worded interviews expressing gratitude for his time in Boston while emphasizing his excitement about Seattle’s ‘supportive management approach.<b>” </b>


    The subtle digs weren’t lost on anyone, but Emma had maintained professional silence, never responding to the veiled criticisms. The team’s improved record under her leadership spoke louder than any defense she


    could offer.


    Now, however, Jack would be physically present–in her arena, facing her team, unavoidably in her orbit for the first time since his dramatic departure.


    “We should discuss security protocols, Alek said as they walked back to the executive offices. “Media management, credential restrictions, that sort of thing.”


    “Already on it,” Emma assured him. “Lisa’s preparingprehensive guidelines.”


    “And you?” Alek asked quietly when they were alone in the elevator. “How are you feeling about seeing him


    again<b>?</b>”


    Emma considered the question seriously. “Professionally prepared. Personally… she shrugged. “It’s just another game.”


    press the issue.


    Alek’s skeptical expression said he didn’t quite believe her, but he didn’t press


    By Tuesday morning, Emma realized “just another game” had been optimistic thinking. Local sports radio buzzed with Reynolds‘ return narratives. Season ticket holders had been offered premium for their seats by Seattle fans wanting to witness the homing. Security reported credential requests had tripled normal


    fevels for a weeknight game


    “We’ve designated separate media areas for pre game interviews Lisa exined during their morning briefing Reynolds will hold court in the visitors press room, will away from our executive spaces”


    And post–game Emma asked


    Simr separation We’ve coordinated with Seattle’s PR team to ensure unexpected confrontations


    Emma nodded, grateful for the thorough nning “Any word from Jack directly? Personal contact


    attempts?”


    “Nothing” Lisa confirmed “His agent coordinated everything through proper channels”


    “Good. Let’s keep it that way


    The day passed in a blur of meetings and routine management tasks, but Emma found her concentration repeatedly drifting to the evening ahead. Not because she missed Jack or feared confrontation, but because his return represented a chapter not quite closed–an epilogue that needed writing before she could truly <fn7874> ???s ??????? ?s ?????? ?? Find?Novel</fn7874>


    move forward.


    At home that evening, preparing for the game, Emma found herself taking unusual care with her appearance She chose a structured navy dress–professional but ttering–with the hockey stick and pen pendant Alek had given her months earlier. Her “battle armor,” <b>as </b>Mia had dubbed it when she’d called to offer moral


    support


    “You look perfect,” Alek said when he picked her up. They’d taken to carpooling to games, a small domestic routine that brought Emma surprisingfort.


    “Confident but not trying too hard?” she asked, only half–joking.


    “Exactly that.” His kiss was brief but reassuring. “Ready for this?”


    “As I’ll ever be.”


    The arena buzzed with unusual energy for a Tuesday night game. Seattle’s strong season start had generated excitement, but everyone knew the real draw was Jack Reynolds facing his former team–and by extension, his former wife.


    Emma maintained her typical pre–game routine–brief visit to the locker room to wish the team well, quick check–ins with key staff, then retreat to the owner’s box where she watched games with selected executives and asionally her grandfather. Tonight, Franklin had insisted on attending despite recent health concerns. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he’d dered when Emma suggested he watch from home. “Some battles require family reinforcements.


    As the teams took the ice for warmups, Emma’s eyes inevitably found Jack. He looked good–focused, fit, the haunted expression from his final Boston days reced with determined intensity. He didn’t nce toward the executive box, keeping his attention strictly on his pre game routine.


    “He’s <b>lost </b>weight, Franklin observed, following her gaze. “Looks like he finally started taking condition seriously.”


    “Seattle’s been good for him,” Emma acknowledged, surprising herself with theck of resentment in the observation. “Fresh start, clean te.”


    23


    “Sometimes that’s what people need.” Franklin patted her hand. “You gave him that, whether he appreciates it


    or not.”


    The game itself proved unexpectedlypelling hockey. Both teams yed with yoff like intensity. trading goals through two periods to reach a 2-2 tie. Jack yed well but hadn’t scored, though his line generated consistent pressure.


    During the second intermission, Emma stepped into the owner’s box bathroom to refresh her lipstick. When she emerged, she found herself face–to–face with Veronica Wells


    “Ms. Mitchell,” the supermodel greeted her, looking impossibly elegant in designer jeans and a Seattle team jacket. “I hope I’m not intruding.”


    “Ms. Wells.” Emma maintained herposure despite the surprise. “Security usually doesn’t allow visitors to the executive level during games.”


    <b>“</b><b>I </b>can be persuasive. Veronica smiled without warmth. “I wanted to speak with you directly”


    “About?”


    “Jack, obviously. Veronica nced around the empty hallway. “He doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, he thinks I’m


    in Mn.


    Emma’s confusion must have shown on her face.


    “We’ve reconciled,” Veronica exined. Two months ago. Very quietly.”


    “Congrattions,” Emma said automatically. “But I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”


    “Because despite everything, I believe you care about his wellbeing.” Veronica’s perfect features softened slightly. “He’s better in Seattle. Healthier. Actually attending therapy rather than just iming to.”


    “I’m d to hear <b>that</b>.”


    “It needs to stay that way.” Veronica’s voice sharpened. “Tonight is significant for him–proving he can move forward, facing the past without being consumed by it.”


    “What exactly are you asking of me?” Emma crossed her arms, defensive.


    “Nothing dramatic. Just… if you encounter him, be kind.” Veronica’s gaze was direct. “Not because he deserves it, but because cruelty would set back months of progress.”


    Watch Ads (<b>0/20</b>) >


    87


    H


    Vote