Choosing Myself

Brynn’s POV

The lingering smell of burnt grease clung to the subway tiles of the fast-food kitchen. I stood in the cramped back room, clutching a flimsy hairnet.

"That fucking bastard cheated on you? Him?"

Piper’s voice rattled the metal prep tables. I winced. I shot a nervous glance toward the front order window, terrified the lunchtime rush would hear the humiliating details of my ruined life.

"Pipes, keep your voice down." I muttered.

Piper threw her damp cleaning rag straight into the aluminum sink. "Nah. You are telling me that he was the one who cheated on you? After everything you have done for him since day one? I never liked him for you in the first place, but throwing you away for an influencer is an all-time low."

I stared down at the hairnet folded in my palms. The suffocating ache in my chest flared up all over again.

It took all my remaining willpower just to survive the morning shift today, let alone recount the fresh nightmare of catching Declan in our bed. The immense weight of my past sacrifices kept pressing down on my shoulders. The exhausting overtime shifts. The delayed college classes. The way I bent my existence backward to fund his minor league dreams while eating cheap ramen every single night.

Piper stepped into my personal space, her fists clenched at her sides. "Where is that bastard so I can punch his bright white veneers in?"

"He is in Bora Bora... with Monroe Sterling." I whispered, dropping my gaze to the floor.

"He is on vacation?!" Piper slapped both palms against the edge of the metal counter. "With that bitch Monroe Sterling, too? She dated half the national league, but everyone thinks she is a sweetheart! Isn't she the one who got caught being rude to restaurant workers before her coach daddy buried the scandal?"

"What do I do now, Pipes? I thought this new job at the Avalanches would be my saving grace." I traced a crack in the peeling floor tiles with my shoe. "Rowan is starting college soon, and he wants to play hockey too. I feel guilty not helping my own little brother. But I do not even know how I will manage his tuition on top of my rent now that I am alone."

Piper reached out and framed my face with her hands, forcing me to meet her fierce, unwavering gaze. "Take the job, Brynn. You wanted this long before you fell in love with Declan."

"How can I work in that specific arena when he is there, Pipes?" I asked, my voice cracking under the pressure.

Her expression softened, though her grip remained a firm anchor. "You just do. Because you are not there for him. You are there for you."

She dropped her hands from my cheeks. Her usual defiant fire roared right back to life in a split second. She stepped up onto the wooden breakroom bench, standing tall, and pointed a commanding finger toward the ceiling. "You are free from that bastard! You did all the chores in your shared apartment. You paid way more than your fair share of the bills. And last but not least, you did everything in bed! He was a total pillow princess!"

"Pipes," I hissed, my face burning hot as one of our teenage coworkers pushed past the swinging door and stared at us.

Piper hopped down from the bench. She grabbed my hands and squeezed them hard, grounding me in reality. "You have been shrinking yourself for him all these years. Do not let him keep you in a cage, even now."

Her brutal honesty hit its mark. The tight iron band wrapped around my ribs finally cracked open. The heartbreak was still raw, but the heavy suffocation started to lift from my lungs.

"You are right." I exhaled a long breath. "I am going to take the job."

"That is my girl!" she cheered, throwing her arms around my neck.

The breakroom door pushed open with a loud screech. Mr. Granger shoved his upper body inside, his prominent beer belly pressing tight against the wooden doorframe. "Tone it down in here. The customers can hear you shouting from outside. I will write you both up if you do not get back to work this minute."

Piper did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. She reached straight into my apron pocket, snatched the resignation letter I drafted earlier this morning, and slapped the envelope hard against Mr. Granger’s chest.

"Write whatever you want, Mr. Granger. My best friend is not working here anymore."

***

"Miss Brynn Caldwell?"

"Yes, that is me." I smoothed down the fabric of my pencil skirt, fighting to keep my hands steady.

The elegant woman standing in the pristine glass-walled lobby of the Los Angeles Avalanches headquarters looked immaculate. From her sharp tailored pantsuit to her large pearl earrings, she radiated corporate power. Her discerning gaze swept over my frame, taking in every detail. I swallowed the thick lump of nerves in my throat.

A warm, welcoming smile broke through her stoic expression.

"I was the one who contacted you through the call. The name is Gwen." She offered her hand, the silver rings on her fingers catching the bright overhead lobby lights. "Manager of the Los Angeles Avalanches and head of HR. Nice to meet you."

"Thank you so much for giving me this unique opportunity. It really means a lot." I shook her hand firmly, letting the crisp professional atmosphere clear away my lingering anxiety from the diner.

"It is my pleasure." Gwen took a half step back and assessed my face once more. "You are also prettier than your picture. The boys will be delighted."

I tilted my head, thick confusion threading through my racing mind. Before I could ask what she meant by the boys being delighted, Gwen drove the conversation forward without missing a beat.

"It was not easy finding someone as competent as Gabe, our former PT. He passed his resignation letter after his wife got pregnant. He still insists on working while waiting for a proper replacement, though." She tapped her glowing phone screen. "Good thing I saw your resume. I was intrigued by the vast variety of your work experiences. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"It is no problem at all." I replied, offering a polite nod.

Gwen checked her sleek designer watch. "Time flies. I need to meet some of our corporate sponsors in the boardroom. Could you wait in the rehab room? I will join you shortly."

Before I could ask for specific directions down the maze of corridors, she tapped a discreet earpiece hidden beneath her hair, already answering an incoming call. Her sharp heels clicked in a frantic rhythm against the polished marble floor as she disappeared down the sprawling hallway.

I blinked at the empty corridor left in her wake.

Right. Rehab room.

I started walking down the polished halls, taking in the state-of-the-art facility. Everything was sleek, spotless, and deeply intimidating. It was a massive upgrade from the freezing, worn-down local rinks Declan used to train in. This place was built for elite champions.

I passed several closed doors, but none of them bore a single descriptive label.

I kept walking until I reached the very end of the long hallway.

A heavy door stood before me. It was painted a rich, dark brown color, and lacked any signage whatsoever. Something magnetic seemed to pull me toward the handle.

Maybe this is the correct room.

I grasped the cold metal knob and turned it slowly. It yielded without resistance.

I paused right at the threshold, taking in the massive space. It did not smell like industrial antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, or stale sweat like typical athletic therapy rooms. Instead, the air carried a clean, soothing profile. Crisp linen tangled with distinct notes of citrus and rich cedarwood. The room was organized to perfection, featuring high-end medical equipment and soft ambient lighting.

I stepped further inside, closing the short distance to the large treatment bed positioned in the center of the room. I lifted my right hand, my fingertips hovering just an inch above the pristine white cotton sheets.

A heavy force slammed directly into my back.

A sharp gasp tore from my throat as my body collided against the solid drywall. Something hard, warm, and unyielding pressed flush against my spine, pinning me in place. Before my reeling mind could even register the sudden impact, my wrists were yanked behind my back and secured in a crushing, one-handed grip.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The hostile voice vibrating against my bare skin was deep. Rough. The mysterious stranger stood close enough that I felt the distinct warmth of his breath wash over the sensitive shell of my ear, carrying a faint, cool trace of spearmint.

My heart launched into a wild, frantic rhythm against my ribs. My survival instincts flared to blazing life long before my brain could process the terrifying ambush.

"I... I am sorry." I stammered, twisting my pinned shoulders in a vain attempt to break free.

My pathetic physical struggles only caused the iron grip on my wrists to tighten even further, sending a jolt of helpless alarm through my nervous system. "I think I got the wrong room."

The stranger lowered his head, pinning his powerful frame tighter against mine to silence my movements. "Doesn't look like you are lost."

His voice dropped down a full octave, dripping with dark, territorial suspicion. The dense pressure of his towering muscular frame against my back did not ease up for a single second. If anything, he pressed his towering physique even closer, molding the solid wall of his chest directly into my shoulder blades. The raw physical dominance of his restricting stance trapped me in a helpless cage. My breath hitched in my throat. I stood paralyzed against the wall, locked in the grip of a hostile predator treating me like an intentional intruder.

He shifted his oppressive stance, his lips brushing a fraction too close to my ear as his voice dropped into a slow, lethal drawl. "I said, who are you... and why are you in my room?"