Daniel sighed, the sound lost to the thud of their skate blades on the rubber mats lining the tunnel. He hadn’t anticipated the chilly reception when he arrived in the Thunder’s dressing room that first day of training camp–and now he finally knew why his breath had practically been fogging whenever he was in the presence of his new teammates. Apparently there was some resentment about his win. Probably some assumptions about his reasons for being there or how he would behave. Never mind that Daniel had worked his ass off for more than a decade before he could add Stanley Cup champ to his resume. He’d fought his way there–tooth, nail, broken bones, and bloody lips. It hadn’t come easy, and he didn’t take it for granted. Nor did he think he was hot shit now that he had a championship win under his belt. He was just trying to play hockey, same as he’d done all his life. Daniel poured onto the ice with the rest of his teammates and sucked in a breath, the cold, crisp scent as familiar and comforting as the sound of his blades cutting into the ice and the roar of the crowd….