The Bolts’ locker room was its usual chaos before a home game — the clatter of sticks, shouts about who drank everyone’s Gatorade, teasing about tattoos and piercings, and the goalie groaning about how no one could remember which skate belonged to whom.

Daniel “Baby Hall” Hall stepped in like a whirlwind.

His bag thudded against the bench, sharp and decisive, and every head turned — not out of fear, but out of sheer force of personality. He was tall, athletic, and confident, but there was a nervous edge too — the kind that came when your spot on the first line was suddenly shaky and someone new was turning heads on the ice.

“A Hall walk‑in,” Tyler chuckled without looking up from adjusting his pads. The team captain always sounded calm, but there was that wry smile that meant he noticed everything.

“About time,” Brooks mumbled from the goalie’s chair, tossing a towel in Daniel’s direction — the kind of welcome only someone who cared would give.

Daniel dropped onto the bench, shrugging off his jacket. “Practice ran long,” he said, voice steady but not quite fooling anyone.

“Funny,” Aiden said from across the room, stretching and grinning. “Because Noah got here way after you.” The mention of the new guy — a threat to Daniel’s line spot — hung in the air, like an unasked question.

Daniel’s smirk was easy, but his eyes flicked just slightly — a small flash of insecurity he hid better than he thought he did. “You keeping tabs on me now?”

War rolled his eyes but bumped him shoulder‑to‑shoulder like brothers do. “Of course. We worry about our Hall.”

“Worry?” Daniel scoffed, leaning back. “Please. I’m fine.” That was technically true — he was fine — just fine with the pressure of competition, the fear of being replaced, the weird urge to fit in with the team’s reckless ideas… fine. Totally fine.

Before anyone could debate that, his phone buzzed — a text that made the smirk slip into something softer. Hannah: You coming tonight?

Hannah Prescott — confident, sharp‑tongued, completely untouchable to anyone else. Daniel swore she made his heartbeat sound like a damn drumline. And she wasn’t even his yet.

“Dream girl text,” Aiden teased from his corner, earning a glare from Daniel and laughter from Brooks.

Daniel stood, grabbing his stick and helmet. “She said she might need backup,” he said, tone light but eyes a little hopeful.

“Backup or distraction?” Tyler called out.

“Both,” Daniel announced with a grin — the kind that made everyone in the room half‑roll their eyes, half‑smile because, yeah, that was Daniel Hall.

He walked out toward the ice, boots crunching, heart thumping under the layers of bravado. He wasn’t just a “playboy” — he was louder, softer, stronger, and somehow still figuring out how to show up without being afraid of feeling something real. And tonight? Tonight might be another step toward that.