Don't Give A Puck

Chapter 1 

Tyree

Sitting on my favorite park bench, I sketch swirls in the dirt with the tip of my shoe. The sun drips lazily through the branches, casting playful shadows that dance on the ground. In my mind, though, I'm not in Springdale, Oregon. I'm in a bustling city, where adventure lurks around every corner.

"Ugh, what a cliché," I mutter to myself.

The chirping birds pull me back to reality. A squirrel scurries by, clutching an acorn as if it's the most precious thing in the world. My phone buzzes, reminding me of my Saturday afternoon plans.

 "Grocery shopping. Exciting," I say, rolling my eyes. At least I have a lunch date with Brody after. I smile at the thought of my overprotective older brother.

I stand up and stretch, glancing around the park. A couple walks by, hand in hand, lost in their own world. I head down the path, ready to get my day started.

Once at the grocery store, I grab a cart and start wandering the aisles, each mundane item on my list feeling like another nail in the coffin of excitement.

"Lettuce... check. Milk... check." 

I zone out as I shop, completely unaware of my surroundings.

"Paper or plastic?" The cashier's voice snaps me back to reality.

"Uh, paper," I reply with a smile that feels too big for such an ordinary question.

Back at my apartment, I put away groceries while humming a tune. Despite the messy appearance of my fridge, I know exactly where everything is.

When I’m done, I grab my bag and head out to meet Brody for lunch at our usual small café. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the air as I push open the door, the bell jingling above me. I spot Brody at a corner table, his broad shoulders taking up more than his fair share of space. He’s already halfway through a cup of coffee, eyes scanning the menu even though he always orders the same thing.

"Hey, little sis," he greets me, flashing that familiar smile.

"Hey, Brody," I slide into the chair opposite him. "How’s life treating you?"

"Busy, as usual. You know how it is," he shrugs, setting down his menu. "How are you holding up?"

I shrug, fiddling with a sugar packet. "Same old."

Brody leans in, his expression turning serious. "Actually, Tyree, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow.

He takes a deep breath. "You’ve been looking for a change, right? Something different from Springdale’s usual routine?"

"Yeah," I nod slowly. "Why?"

"So... how would you feel about working for Maverick?" His eyes lock onto mine, gauging my reaction.

"Maverick? As in Maverick Camden? Your best friend from high school? The professional hockey player?" My heart does a little flip at the mention of his name.

"The one and only," Brody grins. "He needs a personal assistant. Someone organized and detail-oriented."

"And you think that’s me?" My voice wavers between excitement and nervousness.

"Absolutely," Brody says firmly. "You’re perfect for it. Plus, it’ll be a chance for you to get out of this small town and experience something new."

I bite my lip, thoughts racing. The idea of working for Maverick is thrilling yet daunting. Memories of my childhood crush on him flood back—those intense blue eyes and confident swagger that always left me flustered.

"But... what if I mess it up? What if he thinks I'm not good enough?" I voice my fears aloud.

"Tyree," Brody’s tone softens but remains steady. "You’re capable of more than you realize. And Maverick's not some untouchable star; he's still just a guy who needs help managing his life."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "When would I start?"

"As soon as you're ready," Brody replies with a reassuring smile.

I look down at my hands, contemplating the opportunity before me. It's a chance to step out of my comfort zone and maybe—just maybe—find the adventure I've been yearning for.

"I'll think about it," I finally say, looking up at Brody.

"That's my girl," he grins, raising his coffee cup in a mock toast.

As we dive into our lunch orders and casual conversation, I find myself struggling to concentrate on our usual back-and-forth. What if this is the opportunity I've been daydreaming about? I've always loved Seattle, and small towns aren't really where dreams come true - unless you're in a cheesy Christmas movie.

Brody's foot nudges me under the table, and I look up to see him smirking at me.

"Let's go for a walk around the park, like old times?" he suggests, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

I nod, finishing the last sip of my iced tea before joining him. The bell above the café door jingles as we step out into the crisp afternoon air. The park is just a short walk away, and I can already see the familiar paths lined with trees and dotted with benches.

We stroll in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the crunch of leaves beneath our feet and the distant laughter of children playing.

"So, how's Maverick doing?" I ask, trying to sound casual as I kick a pebble down the path.

"He's good," Brody replies. "Busy with training and games, but he's managing. That's why he needs someone like you."

"Right," I murmur, feeling excitement bubble up inside me. "I still can't believe you think I'd be a good fit."

Brody stops walking and turns to face me, his expression serious. "Tyree, you're one of the most organized people I know. And you've got a way with people that Maverick could really use. Trust me on this."

I smile weakly, appreciating his confidence in me even if I'm not quite there yet myself.

We continue walking, and Brody starts reminiscing about our childhood adventures in this very park. "Remember when we used to race each other to that old oak tree?" He points ahead to a massive tree that stands proudly at the edge of a small clearing.

"Yeah," I laugh. "You always let me win."

"I did not!" Brody protests, grinning. "You were just faster than me."

"Sure," I say with a playful eye roll.

As we reach the old oak tree, we stop and lean against its sturdy trunk. The memories flood back—scraped knees from climbing too high, whispered secrets shared under its branches.

"It's weird how everything changes but stays the same," I muse aloud.

"Yeah," Brody agrees. "But change can be good too."

I nod, letting his words sink in. Maybe this job with Maverick is exactly the kind of change I need. A chance to break free from my small-town routine and dive into something new and exciting.

"So," Brody nudges my shoulder gently. "You wanna talk it through?"

"I just don't see how I could handle it, Brody. I mean, have you seen my apartment? It's organized chaos at best."

"Chaos? You? The girl who color-codes her bookshelves?" Brody's grin widens.

"That's different. Books are one thing. Managing a celebrity's life? That's a whole other level of pressure."

Brody leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Maverick needs someone reliable. You’re organized, detail-oriented—"

"But what if I mess up?" I interrupt. "What if I forget something important or can’t keep up with his schedule? This isn't some small-town gig; it's the big leagues."

"You won’t mess up," he says firmly. "You're more capable than you think."

"I’ve never done anything like this before," I protest. "I don’t have experience with high-stakes, glamorous environments. What if he realizes I'm just a small-town girl playing dress-up?"

Brody’s eyes soften. "Tyree, you’re selling yourself short. Everyone starts somewhere. Besides, Maverick needs someone who’s genuine and hardworking, not someone with a fancy resume."

"I don’t know," I say, feeling the weight of my doubts pressing down on me. "It’s just... daunting."

He reaches out and takes my hand. "I get it, but sometimes you have to take risks to find out what you're really capable of."

"But why me?" I ask, looking down at our joined hands. "Why not someone with actual experience?"

"Because I trust you," he says simply. "And because I know you’ll give it your all."

I bite my lip, the fear and excitement warring within me. "It’s just... such a big step."

Brody squeezes my hand gently. "I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t believe in you."

I let out a long breath, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling inside me. 

"Okay... I'll do it."