27. Paige
Chapter 27
Paige
I gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as the city lights blurred into streaks. Everything was ruined. Every damn thing. My thoughts kept looping back to Ryker, his cold eyes, his dismissive tone. Why wasn’t I angrier at him?
The truth gnawed at me. I wasn’t mad at him; I was furious with myself. I should have seen it coming. His icy demeanor, the anger masked under a facade of indifference—it was a ticking time bomb, and I’d been too wrapped up in proving myself to defuse it.
My phone rang, breaking through the storm in my head. Mom’s name flashed on the screen. Great. Another thing to deal with.
I sighed, my breath fogging up in the chill of the car’s interior. “Might as well get this over with,” I muttered and pressed the answer button.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Paige, honey, I’ve seen the photos. What were you thinking?” My mother’s voice pierced through the static of my thoughts, dragging me back to reality.
“Photos? What photos, Mom?”
“The ones of you and Kane! Ryker Kane. Brendan's older brother, Paige? I thought you knew better than this. I knew this would happen. I told you, you couldn’t handle the pressure. You’re too emotional for this kind of work. And now look what happened."
My heart pounded as I pulled over to the side of the road. “Mom, slow down. What are you talking about?”
“They’re all over social media! You and him, looking very cozy. It’s scandalous, Paige!”
I fumbled for my phone, fingers trembling. My mother’s voice droned on, a mix of worry and disappointment coloring her words.
“You always dive headfirst into things without thinking. This is just like when you tried to take care of everything after your father?—”
“Mom, please!” I cut her off, the desperation in my voice sharper than intended. I navigated to a gossip site, praying she was exaggerating.
The screen loaded slowly, each second feeling like an eternity. When the images finally appeared, my stomach dropped. There we were: Ryker and I, from what looked like this morning, his head buried between my thighs… me on my knees… him on top of me… They were grainy but unmistakable—taken from outside through the cracks in my curtains.
My face burned with embarrassment as I stared at the pictures. How could this have happened? Had the paparazzi really gone this far?
“Paige? Are you listening to me?” My mother’s voice broke through again.
I switched back to the call, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, Mom, I’m here.”
“You need to fix this. Now! Your career—your reputation—it’s all on the line!”
“I know,” I whispered, but she didn’t hear me over her own worried tirade.
“I don’t understand why you always put yourself in these situations,” she continued. “You should’ve listened to me and taken that safer job offer.”
I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising tide of frustration and shame. “Mom, I have to go.”
“Don’t hang up on me?—”
“I’ll handle it,” I said firmly before ending the call.
The car felt like a cage around me as I stared at my phone screen again. Those photos were more than just a violation—they were a twisted reflection of how exposed and vulnerable I'd become.
I took a breath, then another, but the panic wouldn’t subside. For the first time, I had no idea how to fix this. I glanced at the photos again, feeling the sting of betrayal and exposure. How had it come to this? My career, my reputation—all hanging by a thread because of a few stolen moments.
“You may be a lot of things,” I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel tighter, “but you’re no coward.”
I started the engine and pulled away from the curb. The road stretched out before me, dark and empty, mirroring my thoughts. As I drove to the rink, the city lights blurred into a dizzying swirl. I focused on the task ahead: finding a way to clean up this mess.
When I reached the rink, it stood silent and imposing despite the bright sunlight. The arena's shadows seemed deeper tonight, as if they knew the weight of what lay inside. I parked and made my way to the entrance, my footsteps echoing in the stillness.
Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. The familiar scent of ice and sweat hit me like a wave, grounding me in reality.
I steeled myself as I walked to Gideon’s office, my heart pounding in my chest. Each step echoed through the deserted hallway, amplifying the dread that had settled in my gut. I paused at the door, taking a deep breath before knocking.
"Enter," his voice called from within.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Gideon sat behind his massive oak desk, papers neatly arranged in front of him. His sharp eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. He had the kind of face that could have been chiseled from stone—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a perpetual look of stern focus. His black hair was combed back meticulously, not a strand out of place.
I wished I could read his expression, but his face was an impenetrable mask. His eyes, a cold gray, revealed nothing.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. "We have much to discuss."
I lowered myself into the seat, my back straight and hands clasped tightly in my lap. The room felt oppressively silent, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights.
He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the desk. "You know why you're here," he began.
I nodded, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. Apologizing felt like the right thing to do, but the words lodged in my throat.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "These pictures, Paige... They're a disaster. And Ryker's fight with Brendan? This team has already endured too many scandals. I brought you on board to help us manage these crises, not to add fuel to the fire."
His disappointment cut deeper than any reprimand I had ever received. I felt a hollow ache in my chest as he continued.
"The Serpents needed someone who could steer us through troubled waters. I believed you could be that person," he said, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage away the stress. "But now... I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go."
I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. "I understand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"And Paige," he added, his tone softer but no less firm, "stay away from Kane."
"Understood," I replied, rising from the chair. I made my way to the door, each step heavier than the last.
I stopped and turned back to face him. "You know," I began, taking a deep breath to steady myself, "I never wanted this to happen."
His expression remained unreadable as he listened.
"The Serpents are a legacy built by grit and unconventional methods," I continued. "Trying to assimilate into the culture of hockey dictates is only hurting the franchise. Maybe we should embrace being a team full of scandal instead."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my outburst. "Is that your professional advice?"
I shook my head slowly. "More of a realization," I admitted. "I've spent my whole life fighting to prove something—to be what everyone else wants me to be—and honestly? I'm tired. I'm tired of putting everyone else's needs over mine. And I think the team needs to do the same."
For a moment, silence hung between us like an unspoken truth.
Gideon’s gaze softened just a fraction as he processed my words. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he might respond, but I didn't wait for it.
With one last look at him, I turned and walked out of the office. The weight on my shoulders lightened ever so slightly with each step forward.
But deep down, I knew this was just the beginning of something far more significant—both for me and for the Serpents.
The silence of my office felt heavier than usual. As I began to pack my things, I couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment. Not sadness—just a hollow sense of missed opportunity. I had come here with the hope of making a difference, of helping the Serpents rise above their reputation. Now, I wouldn’t get that chance.
I set up a forwarding email, mechanically typing in the generic Serpents contact email until they replaced me. The inbox, once a source of stress and excitement, now felt like a graveyard of unfulfilled potential. I began to sift through the emails, deleting irrelevant ones and saving anything remotely important.
One caught my eye; apparently, after the back to school event yesterday, Richard was reconsidering suing the Serpents, so that was something.
Probably didn’t want to look like an asshole.
I forwarded that email to Gideon, in case he wanted to handle that himself.
An email from Julian Burrows caught my eye. Jared Crowder’s agent. My heart skipped a beat as I clicked on it.
Ms. Adams,
I hope this message finds you well. Mr. Crowder has seen the recent photos and would like to arrange a meeting to discuss some matters personally. He has requested that this meeting be with you specifically.
Please let us know your availability at your earliest convenience.
Best regards,
Julian Burrows
Agent for Jared Crowder
I read it once, then again, and a third time for good measure. What could Jared Crowder possibly want to discuss with me? And why me specifically?
The questions swirled in my mind as I sat back in my chair, staring at the screen.
I stared at the email for a moment longer, then picked up the phone and dialed Gideon's desk number. Each ring felt like an eternity until he finally answered.
"Paige?" he said, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and annoyance. "I thought?—"
"I was cleaning out my office," I interrupted. "I'm forwarding you an email. I'd like to know your thoughts."
Silence hung between us as I clicked the forward button and sent the email to his inbox.
"Did you receive it?" I asked after a few tense seconds.
"Yes," he replied, but offered nothing more.
I wished he would say something, anything. The silence felt suffocating.
"Well?" I pressed. "Do you want me to?—"
"Are you blackmailing me?" His tone was sharp, accusatory.
"What? No?—"
"Then what is this?" he demanded.
"Would you like me to meet with him?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "On behalf of the Serpents? You can still fire me, but I know you've been considering signing him, and?—"
"I need a moment." Before I could respond, he hung up on me.
I sat there, staring at the phone in disbelief.
I shoved another stack of papers into the cardboard box, each one feeling like a piece of my dignity being packed away. The sound of the documents rustling against each other was the only noise in the otherwise silent room. My desk, once cluttered with work and personal touches, now looked barren and desolate. The framed photo of my sisters, the little cactus plant I had named Spike—everything was getting tucked away.
Just as I reached for my coffee mug, there was a sharp knock on the door. Before I could even respond, Gideon walked in, his face set in a grim expression.
“What’s the nature of the relationship between you and Ryker Kane?” he asked bluntly, closing the door behind him.
I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by his directness. “Excuse me?”
“I know this isn’t my business,” he continued, “but if I decide to keep you?—”
“I never considered you would?—”
“Just—if you would answer the question,” he cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I sighed deeply, glancing at the half-filled box beside me. “I’m in love with him,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
"How?" he asked. "You've been here for a few days."
“The two of us met while I was in college," I explained. "We spent one night together and... well, I wasn’t na?ve enough to think a top NHL player could fall in love after one night.”
He remained silent, the same look on his face.
“I met his brother in college too,” I continued, my gaze fixed on the floor. “But I didn’t know it was Ryker’s brother at the time. And Ryker made it seem like he didn’t remember me. I thought that was it. When I came here, I didn’t think there would be any issues since I stopped seeing his brother a couple of years ago, but…”
“But,” Gideon prompted.
“And his feelings for you?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for any hint of deception.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I can’t speak for him.”
He rubbed his temples, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "Paige, I'm in a dilemma here. We need Crowder. A signing like that could shift the focus, bring some much-needed positivity to the team. But keeping you on board if you and Ryker remain an item? That's a scandal I’m not sure I want to handle. Even if you went to Michelle in HR and filled out the necessary paperwork… Those photos are incredibly damaging.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have reassured him of my professionalism. But right now, I held back.
"Can you promise me you won't get into a relationship with Ryker Kane?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.
"I can't," I replied, my voice steady but soft.
He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Then I'm forced to dismiss you."
"I understand," I said, swallowing hard. "Would you still like me to speak to Jared Crowder?"
He pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I assume you're going to ask for your job if he signs?"
I shook my head. "I'm a fan regardless of whether I work for the Serpents or not."
He grunted, clearly conflicted. "I'll speak to Kane myself," he said finally. "Maybe I won't have to worry… Fine. If you sign Crowder, we'll work something out. Now, get out of my sight before I change my mind."
He turned and left the room without another word.
I stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. My career hung in the balance, contingent on something entirely out of my control.
What the hell just happened?
I fired off an email to Julian Burrows without hesitation. My fingers flew over the keyboard, fueled by a mix of determination and clarity.
Mr. Burrows,
Thank you for reaching out. I am available to meet with Mr. Crowder at his earliest convenience. Please let me know the details.
Best regards,
Paige Adams
I hit send and leaned back in my chair, feeling a strange sense of relief. This wasn’t about saving my job anymore; it was about reclaiming control over my life.
For too long, I’d let other people’s expectations dictate my actions—my mother’s worries, Gideon’s demands, even Ryker’s confusing behavior. But this was different. Meeting with Jared Crowder could be the first step in figuring out what I wanted.
The idea that I might finally have a say in my own life filled me with a fierce sense of purpose. The photos had thrown me off balance, but now they served as a catalyst for change.
As I sat there, the silence of my office seemed less oppressive. It felt like a blank canvas waiting to be filled with new possibilities.
The framed photo of my sisters caught my eye again. I picked it up, tracing the edges with my thumb. They were counting on me to be strong, but maybe being strong meant being honest with myself first.
I placed the photo gently into the box and stood up, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
With one last glance around the room, I made my way out of the office and down the hallway. Each step felt like shedding an old skin, leaving behind the weight of unmet expectations and stepping into something new—something that was entirely mine to shape.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was moving toward something instead of just away from something else. And that made all the difference.