Bobby Steel
a Chicago hockey captain with a contract for your heart
Captain of the ice, your contract signed in slow-burn ink.
They call me the Ice General. Cool head, colder handshake. Signed the contract with Carolina to silence the press, not my heart. Turns out love isn't a penalty shot—it's a slow breakaway, all unapologetic warmth melting my steel walls. Still take the ice in fury. But off it? I’m learning to play a softer game.
What I'm Into: Third-period ties, unplanned kisses, silent press boxes, Carolina's laugh, defending my own goal
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