#mc71 fluff

While Will scrolled through TikTok saving recipes, Mack was adjacent, letting the red and blue of the Rangers Instagram cast a hue over his features. He had to admit from the aesthetic standpoint of everything a sports team’s social media needed, it checked off all the boxes from eye-catching graphics to player charity work. Though he really discovered gold when he came across a “meet the staff” post for appreciation back in October. 

She was on the third slide smiling ear to ear in a white tee, vintage Rangers logo printed across the center, with her dark hair in waves across her shoulders. “MEET TAYLOR ST. JAMES” was written in big bold letters. There she was, the girl that basically took the blame for a crash she had no part in. It was obvious that she was gorgeous and far too anxious for her own well-being. Her slide had scattered little facts around her headshot, like how she’s a New York native straight out of Brooklyn, how she listens to 2010s pop while editing or how her favorite show is Friends along with other quirks of hers that Mack found equally as endearing.

Usually by now, Mack would've been leaned against the window completely knocked out from the game. You could've said it was the accident that made it especially difficult for him to sleep that night or more accurately, his encounter with the opposing team's pretty media girl. 

He told himself he had no interest in being the Romeo to her Juliet of east and west coast hockey teams, so it wouldn’t hurt just to look her up. Nevertheless, Mack went into the Rangers following typing in Taylor before three accounts popped up. Right at the top of the results was @.taylorsaint with a familiar smile, arms thrown high, sporting an oversized foam finger clearly taken at the Garden. 

Mack hesitated for a moment before tapping on her profile. To his luck, it wasn’t private, and he was instantly let into her world, a world where her camera was always hanging from her neck and she was carrying lattes almost as big as her head. Taylor’s Instagram was both perfectly curated and equally carefree. 

Her most recent post was Taylor sitting cross-legged center ice at an empty Madison Square Garden, camera balanced in her lap, the scoreboard glowing behind her pre-warmups. The second was a shot of the Central Park bridge in the winter. Then came a picture of coffee, another of her editing setup at two in the morning, and finally a candid someone else had clearly taken, Taylor laughing so hard she was doubled over in the tunnel, a camera strap wrapped around her wrist. As the carousel came to an end, Macklin couldn’t stop the soft smile that came to his lips. 

So, he kept scrolling through her life from day in the life reels to hockey, everything circled back to hockey. It was never the players, it was always the job, the subtle behind the scenes that nobody really cared about, yet she found the beauty in. 

A little after midnight, his green eyes were torn from his phone when the blonde next to him spoke up, “Who are we looking at?” 

“No one.” Mack nearly dropped his phone in his efforts to tilt it away from Will. 

“Doesn’t seem like a no one,” Will answered, clearly not convinced by his best friend.

“I was, uh, just looking at something.”

“You were looking at someone.”

"I literally wasn't."

"Mack."

"I wasn't."

“You were smiling at what’s her name? Taylor or something, I couldn’t really see that well from here.”

“Can we not,” Mack whisper yelled, yelling, trying not to bring attention to his curiosity.

“Who is she?” Will insisted.

“She does media for the Rangers.”

“As in the team that kicked our ass six to one.”

“Yeah, she’s the one from the parking lot, apologizing like she was driving the bus, it was kinda sweet though.”

“So, you’re stalking her now.”

“I was just curious.”

“So, follow her.”

“No,” Macklin sighed. “It’d be weird plus she lives across the country.”

“Fine. Don't follow her.”

“I wasn't planning on it.”

He popped another cookie into his mouth.

Mack let out a long sigh before finally locking his phone and slipping it into the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“There,” he said. “Happy?”

Will looked at the now-dark screen and Mack pulled his hoodie over his eyes, settling deeper into the window seat.

APRIL 2025

Back in New York, things moved swiftly as they do in such a bustling city, April came by in no time, and the incident was well behind her. Well enough behind her after she’d posted an official statement on the teams behalf outlining the whole event and the part the organization had in it. The statement was practically an apology crafted from her own heart that all but mentioned her name in it. Not to mention that HR had a rather lengthy conversation after her parking lot encounter.

The Rangers were officially out of playoff contention, and their final home game was set in stone for the 24 to 25 season. Taylor had been carefully selecting photos and videos from the season to include in this year's farewell post for the past hour. Her coffee went forgotten and cold beside her computer when her task was interrupted by one of the new communications assistants. 

"Taylor."

She looked up from her monitor.

"Uh... Rick wants to see you."

"Now?" She frowned.

The assistant nodded in response as she saved her project. She took a deep breath, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles on her shirt before making her way toward the communications offices. To her surprise, her boss was already at his door, ready to greet her. 

“Come on in, Taylor,” Rick said, unusually flat as he took a seat, completely avoiding her eye contact. 

She obliged, stepping inside, trying her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. "You wanted to see me?"

"Close the door and take a seat," the older man stated, straightening a file across his desk.

The brunette carefully took her seat, letting the silence deafen her. Her eyes carefully watched his expression crack and sort of deflate beneath her gaze.

"The organization has decided to terminate your employment effective immediately."

"...What?" For a second, she genuinely thought she'd misheard him.

"We're ending your position with the communications department."

"I... I don't understand." She blinked, unable to fathom what she just heard.

Rick silently slid a file across her desk, prompting her to open it. 

As she opened the file, Taylor was met with fuzzy screenshots that came from an oh-so-familiar video that went viral across hockey socials. There in her hand were photos of her across from Macklin Celebrini over three weeks ago when their bus ruined his car, profusely apologizing. It’d been long enough that all these accounts were calming down from it, and anyone who did know it was her at the scene mostly forgot about it. But clearly, she thought wrong.

"As you know, there was an incident involving members of another NHL organization following the San Jose Sharks game." 

“The bus.”

“Yes, the bus,” he began before continuing, "The video has circulated more than we'd like." 

"I was... apologizing."

"I know that."

"So why am I—"

"Because," Rick interrupted quietly, "ownership believes your involvement created unnecessary liability."

Taylor just stared, brows furrowing.“I created liability?"

"They feel as if your actions blurred professional boundaries with opposing players and put heat under our organization. On top of that they believe that your involvement hurt the reputation of our organization as well "

“All I did was say sorry,” Her voice wavered, trying to come to terms with the decision. “I-I-I even put out a statement across all our socials about it too. I thought it was enough.”

"I argued that." Rick looked genuinely miserable.

"And?"

"And the decision wasn't mine to make."

“So, that’s it? I’m just fired.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes scanned his office, fixed on the hockey memorabilia before landing on the floor. “I never missed a single deadline. I’ve worked past midnight most nights for the last two and a half years, and I can’t even name how many family events I missed just to be here.”

Rick frowned at her words, mumbling an apologetic “I know.”

“I graduated high school a year early because everyone here told me this job would be waiting for me.”

“I wish this conversation were different,” he stated, watching tears prick the corners of her eyes.

Taylor listened to him explain her next steps about returning everything and picking up her final check. 

Breath still shaky, she finally got up to leave. Rick escorted her out. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, "...thanks for the opportunity."

Rick stood too.

"For what it's worth, Taylor..." She paused at the door.

"...you're one of the hardest workers I've ever managed."

She offered a tiny nod before opening the door, and not even half an hour later, she had a cardboard box balanced on her hip, taking her final looks at Madison Square Garden.

For the first time in her life, she had nowhere she needed to be.

Later that night, Taylor laid in bed surrounded by merchandise and decor from a job that seemingly dumped her to the side. It was almost comical how much this job infiltrated her life. 

It’s like God was messing with her when she got a memory notification from her photos. As she clicked on it to see what she was up to a year or two ago, she was met with a sixteen year old Taylor sitting in the goal net right before it was to be taken down. That day still felt like yesterday, where her coworker insisted she take a picture of her to commemorate her first year as a media intern. 

And for a minute, Taylor’s eyes were locked on the screen. How she nearly fell backwards in the net from laughing too hard, how big Madison Square Garden felt at the time, even how she’d get lost in her first days. She remembered how she ran to her mother the first time her photos had been posted by the Rangers and how much joy the almost three years of being there brought her. 

Now it was all over. 

 Her eyes stung once again, thumb hovering over the Instagram app for no reason. Taylor wasn’t sure why she opened a blank post, but there’d been tons of pictures never shared before. The photo dump started with that picture of her in the net, followed by empty arenas, selfies from the press box, and pictures with coworkers turned friends. 

Then she began typing. 

“When I was 16 years old, I never thought being an intern would eventually land me a media coordinator job in the NHL. This organization took a chance on me and let me grow alongside some of their most loved rookies. For the past almost 3 years, I’ve had the privilege to document some amazing stories and witness history in the making. 

While this chapter has come to an  end, I’ll always be grateful for the opportunities and lessons I’ve learned. 

Thank you to everyone who trusted me with a camera. 

MSG will always have a piece of my heart. 

❤️Here’s to the next chapter 💙”

It wasn’t bitter or angry, it was goodbye. Before she could change her mind, she pressed share. 

Notifications of well wishes and good vibes came her way from family, friends, and fans. 

In California, Mack was stretched across Toff’s couch, mindlessly scrolling Instagram when her post popped up. He hadn’t followed her, but he kept up with her on TikTok and Instagram in what could only be described as discreet stalking. 

He frowned at her caption, somewhat sorry for the bubbly girl portrayed on her accounts. Mack didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Will and Cat were calling him to the kitchen.