Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Eric already has, remember? Jax will either fire you for causing a scandal and hurting the Fury brand, or he won’t.
This is a job. If he doesn’t fire you, then boom, you’re golden!
And fuck those other coaches to the sun and back.
They suck anyway.” She pierces me with the power of her stare.
“Who are you living your life for, Sadie? For everyone else and their stupid, meaningless opinions, or for yourself?”
Not for me. Not lately.
And I have no idea how to fix it.
Vivi, Isla and I settle on Ciel Bleu for dinner, a new French restaurant in north Portland.
I wear a black minidress for the Parisian effect, though I probably would’ve worn it no matter where we went because—and this is pathetic of me—black dresses remind me of Leo now. Even the ones he’s never seen me wear.
Isla and Vivi flirt mercilessly with the fresh-faced waiter through a wine sampling. He’s visibly ruffled by us.
Vivi, specifically.
“I know we’ve been so needy since we sat down, but could we get another basket of bread?” She offers him a dimple-popping smile that makes him blush deeper. “Actually, make it two. My friend here is going through something batshit ridiculous, and I’m a stress eater.”
“Not a problem.” His gaze struggles to leave her. “Is there anything else I can get you? Any of you, I mean.”
He’s transfixed and we’ve only been here twenty minutes.
“Since we’re determined to fill up this table,” Vivi continues, “can we also have a bottle of the pinot grigio you recommended? It’s so good. You’ve got really great taste.”
“I—thank you. Yes, of course.”
Isla snorts under her breath as the frazzled guy walks away. “Careful before you walk out of here with a boyfriend.”
“Nah, we’re just having fun.” Vivi’s curls are loose and wild tonight, just like her laugh. “He’s too skittish for me.”
“She prefers cocky pains in the asses, is what she means,” I translate.
Isla’s eyes are backlit with mirth. “Oh, there’s a story here.”
“Several.”
Vivi tosses me a half-hearted glare. “A girl can change.”
I arch a brow. “But has she?”
She sips her water. “Circle back to me after we’ve solved your problems.”
Isla laces her fingers as she regards me across the cramped table. “So you’re telling me the call is coming from inside the house? All this bad press stems from Eric?”
My stomach twists just hearing his name. “I think so. He didn’t like, admit it in a notarized letter, but there were signs.”
As I finish explaining the targeted comments from press day and all the many passive-aggressive things he’s said and done, stemming back to before I was even officially hired, her face drops. “Wait. Jax doesn’t know about this, does he?”
“No way.” I wave this off. “I trust Jax. Maybe that’s naive of me, but he’s never been anything other than respectful, supportive, and encouraging. And he defends me in the press. Eric would never.”
Isla’s brow smooths as she relaxes. “Okay, good. I didn’t take him as the type to sabotage another person, but you can never be too careful.
” She brushes a fallen lock of hair out of her eye.
The sleeve of her silk polka dot button-up slides up her forearm.
“So we’ve got two options here, as I see it.
Confront Eric directly, or sit down with Jax and HR about what’s happening.
Jax will be horrified, or he’ll disappoint me by indicating that he already knows and hasn’t done anything to stop it. ”
And here it is.
The part I’ve been dreading.
“The thing is”—I warm a wrapped butter pad between my palms to prepare for more bread—“if I sit down with HR, I’m going to need to confess to what I’ve actually done. And I need to tell you, too, before you craft a statement on my behalf.”
Isla’s eyes widen, but her tone is without judgment. “What do you mean?”
My throat feels tight. I didn’t think it’d be this hard to say out loud.
“I’ve done pretty much the worst thing someone in my position could do.
” The room blurs a little at the edges, like it’s closing in on me.
“I have— Over the course of the season, I’ve developed feelings for Leo McLaren. Strong ones.”
Her eyes slide left and right like she’s reading invisible text. “Leo. Okay. Leo is out for the season.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I already ran the statement his agent gave me about his surgery, how he won’t be back this season.
Anyone who knows the sport or his full story will know that means he’s probably not coming back ever, given he’s been hurt before.
So let’s start with changing the language. You have feelings for a former player.”
I almost forgot I was talking to our media person whose job is to help players tell their stories to the press. “He’s still a member of the team, even if he’s not on the ice. And—”
“Have you ever been seen together?”
“Other than every day?”
“Have you and Leo ever been caught together in a compromising position, photographed in a nonprofessional context, anything like that?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Guilt creeps up my throat. “There were one or two incidents where we were out in public together, but no one would’ve seen anything bad.”
We almost slipped up at that bar. But there was never a moment when we could’ve been photographed, that much I’m sure of.
We kissed in a dark, private hallway, and even though someone tried to walk in on us in the bathroom itself, they couldn’t possibly have seen anything since I was body-blocking the door.
Or more accurately, since Leo was pressed against me while I wrapped my legs around his waist so he could—
I stop the runaway train of memory before it can fully leave the station.
“Good. So here’s the move.” She taps the table with a manicured nail.
“We release a statement saying there has never been nor would ever be involvement between you and Ivan Czernecki, or you and Henri Auclair. We condemn people trying to fabricate a narrative that disrespects both you and the Fury players, while reminding people that your personal life is not up for scrutiny. All of that is categorically true.”
“But what about Leo? What about when the truth comes out?”
Her head cocks to the side, like she’s trying to figure me out. “How would it?”
“She’s in love with him, Isla,” Vivi says quietly. “Once Sadie finally admits that to herself, they’re going to be together.”
I wince, even though it’s the truth.
“Oh.” Her voice takes a turn for the sympathetic. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was that serious.”
I bury my face in my palms.
“You’re okay, Sadie.” Vivi’s voice is quiet and calm.
Isla is quick to jump in. “I’m not judging you, not even a little bit. I just didn’t realize, because you hid it so well at work.”
“I know he’ll be a former player soon. But people won’t care about that when they find out.
They’ll say it started sooner, that I was unprofessional to engage in some fling with someone on my roster—even if it wasn’t just a fling.
” Bile rises up in my throat. “Everything they’re saying about me now thanks to those lies about Ivan and Henri will actually be true. ”
“It’ll be different,” Isla argues. “You aren’t entering into a relationship or going public with an active player.
No one can say you’re giving him special treatment because there’s nothing for you to give him at this point.
These distinctions matter. As far as the press, there’s a way to present this to minimize criticism.
But there will always be someone with something to say.
Always. It won’t be easy, and I don’t want to downplay that. ”
We fall into silence as the waiter presents and pours the wine. Vivi doesn’t even flirt.
As soon as he leaves, Vivi’s hand finds my shoulder. “You know better than anyone that it’s hard. If I’m tired of the comments I receive, I know you’re exhausted.”
“I am. I’m tired of fighting as hard as I do to prove that I’m good enough to be here.” I shake my head. “The more voices I let in, the harder I work to please the masses, the more of myself I sacrifice.”
The weaker I become.
“I’m not perfect. I never will be. But I’m damn good at my job—the parts of it that matter.
Maybe I’ve made mistakes.” I sip my wine.
“Okay, I obviously have. And I know I’ll make more of them, because I am human and that’s part of the gig.
And yes, I’m afraid that eventually one of them might get me fired, or forced out. ”
“But you know what?” Vivi’s look is laced with a meaningful sort of determination. “If that happens, you’ll survive it. You will always come out on the other side better than you were. You’re the most resilient person I know.”
I have no choice but to hear her. To soak it in.
So what if the job goes away, however it happens? So be it. She’s right—I have survived worse. This job can’t be my everything, no matter how much I love it.
If I make it my identity, then when something goes wrong, I’ll be left with nothing. When it’s painful—like it is right now—I won’t have anything to fall back on.
Like Leo is experiencing right now.
An ache wracks my chest.
I know he needs to focus on healing. He’s got a lot to figure out on the other side of this injury. The great big unknown of what’s next.
But none of that changes how I feel about him. And I hope it doesn’t change how he feels about me. He never wanted to cost me my reputation, and certainly not my job.
I’m realizing there’s more to life than what I do for a living and who people think I am. He might be struggling to see that right now for himself and his own life, given what he’s going through, but it’s the truth.
Maybe it’s time for two obsessive hockey players to put something other than hockey first for a change.
Isla’s expression is kind, her eyes soft. “First, as a friend—if I may be so bold as to call myself that—”
“You can,” I blurt. “Please do.”
The corners of her lips lift. “It’s important to me that you, Sadie, feel good about whatever happens next and that you know you’ll be okay no matter what. It sounds like you’re getting there. Now as for Coach Rivers—would she like my professional advice?”
“For sure.”
“Okay.” She nods resolutely. “I think we can control the narrative in a way that does minimal damage to your reputation. And I have a few ideas about how to do it.” She tents her hands beneath her chin.
Mastermind pose. “But to gauge which one will work best, I need to know one thing: how serious is this? Are you ready to be one hundred percent public in an official capacity, or do you want to date in private and hope the news doesn’t leak for a while? ”
The back of my eyes sting. It would feel incredible to stop hiding and let people see us, and maybe even support us, in all of our imperfections.
But I’m a realist, and so is Leo. “I don’t want to lie, or hide.
But I don’t think we need to necessarily go public yet, either.
It’d be cool if I could get us to the playoffs before this story breaks, to give the team a scandal-free run, and to give myself a better shot of staying employed long-term, if that’s even possible.
If I don’t get us to the playoffs, well, I’m gone anyway.
At least from the Fury. Andy made that clear to Jax and me when I was hired. ”
“Oh, we’ll make it to the playoffs,” Vivi declares, lifting her glass. “We just need that PMA, Positive Mental Attitude. Not to be confused with PMO. Or PMS.”
“Hear, hear.” Isla lifts her glass to clink Vivi’s. “Okay, so we’ll have a statement ready that gives only the essential information, and we’ll operate on a timeline that gets you to the playoffs or even end of season before you announce the relationship—”
“If Leo wants to be in one,” I add.
“He wants to be in one,” Vivi says with an eye roll. “You should see these texts he’s sent me about her, Isla. Well actually, they’d probably give you a heart attack, because you’ll be worrying about them leaking—”
I push her shoulder. “Hey! Neither you nor Leo are leaking texts.”
“Of course we’re not! But nosy fanboys might try?”
My laugh dips down to my belly for the first time in days. “I’m not nearly important enough for someone to hack your phone.”
“I want to see them. Show me the goods.” Isla shrugs coyly. “So long as you’re satisfied with the plan, Sadie. I’m happy to keep talking strategy for as long as you want.”
“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Vivi shoots me a fond look. “Strategy is Sadie’s favorite word, second only to win.”