CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Easton
The puck hit the boards with a satisfying crack, but I didn’t feel any of the usual satisfaction. Morning practice should have been routine.
Instead, it felt like everyone was watching me, waiting to see if I’d crack under the pressure.
I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Casey’s terrified face as the photographer followed her. Heard Palisade’s shaky voice when she called asking for help.
Felt the rage that had consumed me when I physically removed that asshole from the clinic.
“Henley! Focus!” Coach Martin’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I reset for the drill, but my mind wasn’t on the ice. It was at the meeting I was about to have with management. The one where they’d undoubtedly tear into me for yesterday’s incident.
The one where my captaincy would be on the line.
“Nice of you to join us,” Beck muttered as we lined up for the next rep. “You’ve been in your head all practice.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, well, get it sorted before the game tomorrow. We need you sharp.”
I nodded, running the drill, but my heart wasn’t in it. How was I supposed to focus on hockey when my daughter was too terrified to go to school? When Palisade’s clinic was being review-bombed by internet strangers?
When everything I’d worked for was crumbling because I’d chosen to defend my family?
Practice wrapped up, and I headed straight to the locker room. I was halfway through changing when Coach Martin appeared at my stall.
“Management is ready for you. Conference room, five minutes.”
My jaw locked. “Got it.”
“Listen, Easton, keep your cool in there. They’re not happy, but losing your temper won’t help.”
I was heading to the press room when I spotted Aaron in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his phone pressed to his ear.
"I said I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Just drop it."
He ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket with more force than necessary. When he looked up and saw me, his jaw tightened.
"Henley."
"Aaron." I studied the shadows that had formed under his eyes and noticed how stiff his shoulders were. "You good?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" His voice, defensive and laced with barely suppressed anger, was mirrored in his balled fist.
"Just checking."
"Well, don't." He pushed off the wall. "Some of us don't need therapy to function."
The words, sharp and bitter, struck like icy daggers. Yet what stood out to me was the weariness etched into his features. His hands shook as he walked past me.
The old me would've taken the bait and turned it into a confrontation.
Dr. Reyes taught me to recognize when people lashed out because they were hurting.
"If you ever want to talk—" I started.
"I don't." Aaron disappeared around the corner without looking back.
I stood there for a moment, then made a mental note to mention it to Coach. Something was off with Aaron, and ignoring it wouldn't make it go away.
I'd learned that the hard way.
I finished dressing and made my way to the administrative wing. Three management executives were waiting: Janet Morrison from PR, Marcus Webb from Legal, and Greg Hartley, the GM.
“Easton, sit.” Greg gestured to a chair across from them.
I sat, keeping my expression neutral.
“Let’s get right to it,” Greg said. “Yesterday’s incident at the veterinary clinic. We’ve reviewed the photos, the video footage circulating online, and the police report. You want to tell us your side?”
“A photographer followed my daughter into the clinic. She was terrified. I removed him from the premises.”
“You ’removed’ him,” Janet repeated, her tone dry. “That’s one way to describe physically grabbing someone and destroying their equipment.”
“He was chasing a six-year-old. What was I supposed to do?”
“Not assault someone on camera,” Marcus interjected. “Do you have any idea of the liability issues this creates?”
My jaw clenched. “He was harassing my daughter.”
“We understand that,” Greg said, his tone more measured. “But Easton, you’re not just a hockey player. You’re the captain of this team. You represent the Shadow Wolves organization. And right now, you’re representing us by getting into physical altercations with photographers.”
“So I’m supposed to let them terrorize my family?”
“You’re supposed to call security. Or the police. Or literally any option that doesn’t involve you putting hands on someone.” Janet leaned forward. “The photographer is considering pressing charges, by the way. And even if he doesn’t, the optics are terrible.”
I felt my control slipping. “The optics of protecting my daughter?”
“The optics of a professional athlete using physical force against a civilian,” Marcus corrected. “It doesn’t matter what your intentions were. It matters how it looks.”
“And it looks bad,” Greg added. “Especially on top of the paternity revelation. The secret-daughter angle was already generating negative attention. Now we’ve got you in a physical confrontation, and the internet is divided between people who think you’re a protective father and people who think you’re a violent thug with anger issues. ”
“I don’t have anger issues.”
The three of them exchanged glances.
I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but the truth was staring me in the face. Dr. Reyes had been working with me on this for months. My anger was a problem. I just hadn’t wanted to admit it extended beyond the ice.
“What happens now?” I asked, my voice tight.
Greg sighed. “Effective immediately, we’re suspending your captaincy.”
The words hit like a physical blow. “What?”
“It’s temporary,” he added quickly. “We need to send a message to the team, the league, and the public that this behavior is unacceptable. You’ll keep playing, but Beck will wear the C until we reassess.”
I sat back in my chair, processing. The captaincy was supposed to be the pinnacle of my career. Leadership. Respect. Legacy.
And I’d lost it because I couldn’t control my temper.
“Before we discuss next steps,” Marcus said, drawing my attention back, “I want to be clear about where we stand. This organization has been monitoring your behavior closely since the reporter incident.”
My jaw tightened, but I kept quiet.
“We conducted a comprehensive review,” he continued.
“Spoke with your agent, your coach, confirmed therapy attendance with Dr. Reyes’s office, even checked with the supervisor of your community service.
” His eyes met mine. “Dr. Honors gave you a strong assessment. She reported that you’ve been professional, punctual, and respectful throughout your volunteer work.
That assessment carried significant weight with the board. ”
I thought of Palisade on the phone with him, defending me when she had every reason not to.
“However,” Marcus leaned forward, “that assessment was given before this situation with your daughter became public. Before the media circus. Before photographers were camped outside an elementary school.” He paused.
“The board’s concern isn’t just about anger management anymore, Easton.
It’s about judgment. About your personal life creating liabilities for this organization. ”
“My daughter isn’t a liability,” I said, voice low.
“The media attention surrounding her is.” Janet jumped in. “We’ve had sponsors asking questions. Season ticket holders calling to complain about the negative press. Three separate news outlets requesting interviews about your ‘secret child.’”
“Which is why we’re having this conversation,” Greg said.
“The board gave you the benefit of the doubt after the reporter incident. Dr. Honors’s assessment, your clean therapy attendance, your consistent community service work.
All of that bought you goodwill. But now we need you to show us you can handle this situation appropriately. ”
“By reading the statement you wrote,” I said flatly.
“By showing the public and our sponsors, Easton Henley is a responsible father and team player who made a mistake but is committed to doing better.” Greg slid a folder across the table.
“We’ve prepared a statement that addresses the paternity revelation while maintaining the team’s image.
You have twenty-four hours to review it. ”
I opened the folder.
Shadow Wolves captain Easton Henley regrets the incident that occurred yesterday at a local veterinary clinic.
While he was understandably concerned for his daughter’s safety, he recognized his actions were inappropriate.
The organization is working with all parties involved to resolve the situation.
Henley remains committed to upholding the professional standards expected of Shadow Wolves players.
It was perfectly worded, legally sound, and completely sanitized.
It was also bullshit.
“This makes it sound like I regret protecting Casey,” I said slowly.
“It makes it sound like you regret handling the situation poorly,” Marcus corrected. “Which you should.”
“And what about Dr. Honors?” I asked. “The statement says nothing about the harassment she’s facing. The bad reviews, the threatening notes…”
“That’s not our concern,” Janet interrupted. “Our concern is protecting the Shadow Wolves brand. Dr. Honors’s business problems are between her and her lawyer.”
“She’s being called a gold digger. Her clinic is being destroyed by fake reviews. Someone left a threatening note on her door.”
“Then she should contact the police,” Greg said, not unkindly. “But Easton, you need to understand, our priority is you. Your career, your reputation, your ability to represent this organization. Everything else is secondary.”
I stared at the statement; the words blurring together.
Regrets the incident.
Actions were inappropriate.
Committed to professional standards.
All code for: I’m sorry for defending my daughter. I’m sorry for making the organization look bad. I’ll be a good team player and keep my personal life private.
“What if I don’t sign it?” I asked.
The room went silent.