Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I’m not sure what possesses me to challenge him, but I speak before I think. “You’re very confident in your abilities and that of your team. Almost to the point of being cocky.”
“And the interview has started already.” Patrick grins at me. “I’ve been called worse. I think I’m going to very much enjoy working with you.” He flicks at an invisible piece of lint on his pant leg. “You’re a rebel, Juno, and you let your passion drive your creativity. I want people to be mesmerized by this documentary and given your, shall we say, experiences… you’ve proven yourself in ways others can’t.”
It should be off-putting for him to be talking about my childhood trauma in such a blatantly forward manner, but I’m not bothered. My story has been public for a very long time, and that was my choice.
The cult. The church. The “faith community.” Whatever label you want to slap on it.
I was thirteen years old and positioned to become the leader’s wife on my fourteenth birthday. And I wasn’t the only girl slated for matrimony. We were being groomed to believe it was holy, but even though I didn’t know much about the outside world, I knew in my gut it wasn’t right.
My story didn’t end in marriage but in collapse. I escaped, went to the authorities, and brought the whole damn cult to its knees. There were investigations. Arrests. News vans. Headlines.
Then foster care.
That part doesn’t get romanticized because it isn’t romantic, but I survived.
I didn’t become a documentarian because I love storytelling. I became a documentarian because I learned early that truth only matters if someone is willing to drag it into the light.
Rowe’s gaze holds mine and he understands full well the league didn’t hire me to produce fluff or shiny PR. “Here’s what you need to know,” Rowe says, shifting forward slightly. “You will have full access to the team.”
“Define full,” I say, because words matter.
“Facilities. Players. Staff. Offices. Training camp. Travel to all the away games on our plane.”
“And I’ll have access to you?” Because he will be central to this story.
“Absolutely,” he says, and that cocky swagger shines through. “And so you know, I’m not interested in curating a version of this team that doesn’t exist. I don’t care if you find a mess when you start digging because I have a vision of what this team will become, and trust me when I say, they will become what I want.”
I study him because I don’t trust easily, and because men with money often don’t play by the rules.
“What about medical?” I ask.
A faint smile. “Within legal limits. HIPAA. Team policies. But you’ll be allowed closer than most.”
“Locker room?”
Rowe’s eyes flick once, like he expected that question. “The players have all signed releases. You’ll get full locker room access.”
“Practices,” I continue.
“Absolutely.”
“Private meetings?” I press, because if he says yes, he’s either fearless or foolish.
Rowe doesn’t hesitate. “If they’re relevant, yes.”
I glance down at my phone as it buzzes, but I don’t pick it up. Evan can wait. Dana can wait. Marta can definitely wait because Marta is the kind of tech genius who probably hasn’t slept since 2019 and still somehow produces miracles.
“Do you want to focus on anyone in particular?” I ask.
“Not really,” Rowe drawls. “But if you want to narrow in on the man who will be the glue for this team, it’s Crosby Hale. He’s the go-to veteran. Steady in a way few are and elected captain. He’s the type of player I want all my players to model themselves after.”
“A goalie captain?” I ask, unable to hide the edge of curiosity. “I thought they didn’t have those.”
Rowe nods. “Honorary. He can’t manage the refs from the crease, so the assistants will handle on-ice matters.”
“Why do you think he was elected?” I ask.
“Because he’s respected. Because he doesn’t create drama.”
My mouth curves. “So, he’s boring.”
Rowe’s laugh is short. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what people mean when they say, ‘doesn’t create drama,’” I counter. “Often it means no personality.”
Rowe chuckles. “He has personality. But he doesn’t give it away easily.”
Ah.
That’s better.
Rowe leans back again. “If you run into problems, you come to me.”
“I handle my own problems,” I say automatically.
“I’m not offering help,” Rowe replies, calm but absolute. “I’m telling you that so this project happens the way I intend it to happen.”
There it is.
Not offensive. Not threatening.
Fact.
Rowe gets his way because Rowe has built a life where no doesn’t exist unless he allows it.
I respect that more than I want to.
“Fine,” I say. “If Crosby Hale tries to stonewall me, I’ll let you know.”
Rowe stands, signaling the meeting is over. It’s subtle but unmistakable. A pure power move.
“Janine will give you a full tour,” he says. “You’ll get credentials, access points, security clearance for your team. Anything you need.”