She was nothing of the sort.
Oblivious to the tension, Harper motioned to Cal. “Selena, do you know Cal Foreman? Our new power forward. Formerly of the Quebec Royals.”
Selena reached for Cal’s hand and shook it. “We haven’t met but I know you by reputation. You’ve landed on a good team here.”
“I have.”
“Mia’s training for the Team USA assessment camp at Biddeford,” Harper added.
Selena’s eyes lit up, all calculation. “Oh, great. We all wondered if you’d get back to this level.”
Mia prayed her voice wouldn’t betray her. “Yeah, taking some time to think about my next move was good for me. Made me realize how important it is. How much I miss it.”
“A lot of our girls will be there,” Selena said, referring to the women already making strides in the hockey league. “The game’s gotten pretty fast in the last couple of years.”
Harper cut in. “She’s looking great. Working with a one of our pros and wiping the rink with him.”
“She sure is,” Cal affirmed with a self-deprecating smile.
Selena said, “We’d love to see you try out for one of the pro teams. Of course, you can’t use your family connections to get ahead, but I’m sure we can find a place for you.” She turned to Harper. “Would you mind if I had a word with Mia alone, Harper? Just a couple of minutes.”
“Not at all. If that’s okay with you, Mia?” Her sister-in-law checked in with her, a querying look on her face.
“Of course!” Too much. Mia turned to Cal and hoped she didn’t sound like a robot. “Talk to you later.”
His head was cocked, curious. He’d picked up on the vibe, but all he said was, “Sure.”
Mia skirted Selena and headed into Harper’s office, listening for the door’s closing snick behind her.
“Have a seat, honey.” Selena walked over to the blue sofa in Harper’s office, where the Rebel Queen usually sat and offered refreshments to her guests. A beautiful tea service took up most of the coffee table.
Mia strode to Harper’s desk and leaned against it. “I’d rather not sit. Just got out of practice so standing’s better.”
Selena leaned back and picked some dust off the sofa’s back. “Team USA, huh?”
“Gonna put a good word in for me?”
“I’m surprised you’ve stayed away so long.”
“Are you? I guess when your reputation precedes you, it can be difficult to get a foothold.”
Recognizing that Mia wasn’t going to sugarcoat the turd in the room, Selena’s eyes turned predatory. “Harper and Isobel really want the franchise for Chicago, Mia. But then lots of cities do. I can make that happen.”
Another day, another threat.
“They’d do a great job. Look what they’ve done with the Rebels. Look at all they’ve achieved.” Despite everything they were up against. Despite the entire hockey establishment waiting with bated breath for them to fail. The stakes might not be as high for Mia—she was merely one rich-girl, privileged hockey player after all—but she knew the pain of banging against a wall built especially to keep you out.
“Oh, I know. As for you, well, you’ve done your time. You flew a little too close to the sun, had your wings singed. But everything turned out for the best. Now you know for sure that hockey is your calling.”
This notion that Selena believed, or chose to present as her version of events, that she’d done Mia a favor stuck in her craw. Mia had played Selena’s game, hadn’t even told her friends and family the dirty truth, all so she could reset and return to the game she loved. But Selena drew initial blood and as everyone knows: the first lie wins.
She struggled to make the words come, and when they did, they sounded like an underdog cliché.
“Nothing’s going to stop me from getting back to where I belong.”
Selena’s smile was pinned on. “Then we’re on the same page. I won’t stand in your way. In fact, I can make a call to Lindy to give you special consideration.”
Lindy, the nickname for Coach Lindhoff, who made the final decision in Biddeford.
Mia held up a hand, amazed it wasn’t shaking. Her stomach turned in disgust. “Please. I don’t need your help, Mrs. Fabien. You’ve already done so much.”
Selena’s smile was more assured now, almost as if she enjoyed Mia’s passive-aggressive digs. How Mia longed to scream at her.
You were supposed to stand up for women in hockey. Women in sport. Women, period. Instead you put your asshole son first.
While Mia understood the Mama Bear instinct to protect her own, Drew