Chapter 37 Sloane #2
“I’m so honored, thank you.” Oliver met my gaze and grinned, and my heart clenched. He was so loved here. So happy. How could he walk away for me?
“Good to see you, Doc. We can all acknowledge now that you and OJ have been banging?” Quinn said, wiggling his brows. “Right?”
“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Jordan smacked Quinn’s head. “Be classier. Some of us knew, but it ain’t our business now, is it?”
“Jordan, that is very mature of you,” I chimed in, my pulse fluttering as three of the guys stared at me. “But yeah, we’re together. Will probably get fired for it.”
“Must be good in bed,” Quinn added.
“Oh, he’s the best,” I fired right back.
That broke the tension, and Oliver joined me at the counter, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and planting a kiss on my temple.
It felt nice, right, perfect, to be able to be together around his friends and teammates.
I didn’t feel weird or nervous or uncomfortable.
If anything, we were all allowed to be ourselves in the safety of Oliver’s condo. No cameras, rules, or bullshit.
They made themselves at home within thirty seconds.
Jordan kicked off his shoes and claimed the recliner footrest like it was his.
Quinn opened the fridge, commented on how disappointing the snack selection was, and pulled out a cheese stick.
Noah sprawled on the floor next to Oliver’s chair, already mid-story about Ty nearly fighting a mascot two seasons ago after a hot dog cannon misfire.
“Go on, go sit with them.” I nudged him, leaning into his side for a beat. “They love you and are probably worried sick.”
Just then, a loud bang echoed in the door, and none other than Callum O’Toole flung it open. “You motherfucker. Couldn’t answer your phone? Couldn’t reassure your best and oldest friend that you didn’t fucking die? God you are an asshole, and I need a hug.”
Callum didn’t wait before running toward Oliver and picking him up in a bear hug. “I need a full minute of chest to chest before I settle down.”
“You are so weird,” Oliver said, but he wrapped his arms around Callum and returned the hug. “Ivy knows how I’m doing. She could’ve told you.”
“She did, but bros before hoes. Oh shit, I didn’t like that.
Did it sound like I called my wife a hoe?
See, I’m distraught over this. We were friends first. We were roommates and teammates, so I should get some text back from you.
” Callum cupped Oliver’s face, and seeing the evident love there had my eyes prickling.
“My phone is at the stadium, probably in my locker. Not really in a hurry to get it back.” He shrugged. “My sister is here, so I talked to my parents, then Sloane. I’m sorry, Cal. I should’ve known better.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Callum patted Oliver’s back one more time then looked around. “What is so funny? I love this fucking idiot, and oh, hey, are there more cheese sticks?”
And just like that, Callum went to the fridge as Oliver and I shared a smirk. This was so good for Oliver’s healing. He needed his community, and I wanted to hug each and every one of them for being here for him.
I stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, watching the way the energy filled the space. The guys were loud. Obnoxious. Exactly what we all needed. They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t bring up the field. Just kept talking, eating, and shouting over each other about whose turn it was to pick dinner.
At 4:30 p.m., my phone buzzed.
Team meeting scheduled. 5:00 p.m. Staff suite only.
Confirmed: Mac, Booth, Ivy, William.
This was it. When I’d learn my fate, my future. If I’d have to find a new profession. I had enough savings for a year or two, but that wouldn’t be sustainable. I covered my stomach with my hand, willing it to settle as I thumbed up the text.
“Hey, what is it?” Oliver walked toward me, brows drawn low and his mouth turned in a frown. “You tensed.”
“You should be hanging with your team,” I said, jutting my chin toward them.
“I am, but my gaze rarely leaves you for more than ten seconds.” He ran a thumb over my collarbone, his eyes soft and worried. “What is it? Tell me.”
“Team meeting at five.” I exhaled, pushing my hair behind my ears. “Mac called for it.”
He frowned, and a flicker of worry crossed his face. “Fuck, do you want me to go with you?”
“You wonderful man.” I kissed him softly. “I love you. I have no idea what’s going to happen, and yeah, I’m scared as hell, but knowing I have you helps.”
“You have me.” Oliver’s gaze heated, more intense as he stared at me. “You and me, Sloane. No matter what happens, it’s you and me.”
I nodded, my throat tightening with emotion as I walked out of his place. It was time to see what would happen with my life.
Every step echoed too loudly in my ears. Every hallway I passed through felt one degree too warm. The familiar faces I waved to every day seemed distant, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was a point of topic. Oh, is that the one who slept with a player?
Everyone knew. I hated the insecurity, the embarrassment. Who I fell in love with didn’t change my credentials, experience, or expertise, but people didn’t view women in sport professions the same way. My hands shook, but there was no way through this but through it.
I stepped into the staff suite at 4:59 sharp.
Booth was near the whiteboard, arms crossed, unreadable.
Mac stood behind the main table, hands braced on the back of a chair, like he’d been there for a while.
His face looked tired, more weathered than normal.
He wore a pullover, but it was wrinkled.
Ivy was seated with her tablet open, thumb scrolling slowly.
William stood beside the coffee counter, turning his pen over in his hand. They all looked up when I entered.
“Close the door,” Mac said, no indication if he was going to yell or fire me.
I did.
I stood in front of the table but didn’t sit. I kept my hands folded in front of me. Still. Quiet. Waiting.
Booth started. “Oliver’s episode has been formally logged and reported to League compliance. There’s been no escalation yet. No inquiries.”
William added, “Diagnosis confirmed: exertion-induced SVT. The echocardiogram supports it. No evidence of structural damage. His telemetry from the last month matches previous undocumented patterns.”
“He’s not cleared to return,” Ivy said, voice even. “His ablation consult is scheduled for Thursday morning. He’s out the rest of the season.”
“If it goes well,” William continued, “he’ll enter staged recovery by winter. Spring for conditioning. Full return projected by training camp. But that’s assuming no complications.”
My throat tightened, but I said nothing.
Mac exhaled. “Now we address the second issue.”
My stomach turned. I didn’t need him to elaborate.
“You broke protocol,” he said. “You didn’t call his injury in. You climbed into the ambulance without clearance. You made physical contact in front of League cameras.”
I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t thinking about optics. He wasn’t stable.”
“You made a decision,” Mac said. “But it wasn’t about medical protocol. You’ve been involved with an active player for—what? Weeks? Months?”
“Months,” I said quietly. “Off the record. No bias was present in my evaluations.”
“She’s right. I reviewed them yesterday, all of them,” William said. “Her documentation was sound. Her treatment plans followed department standards. Her field decisions were consistent with best practices. She didn’t show preference. Not on paper.”
“But she did get in the ambulance,” Mac said, “And kept a relationship hidden.”
Silence fell.
I looked at Mac. “Are you saying I should’ve let him ride alone?”
He didn’t answer right away. He glanced down at his pen, turned it once more, then set it on the table. “No. I’m not saying that at all, actually.”
Ivy cleared her throat. She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick folder, then set it on the table.
“I spent last night researching League policies, HR compliance documents, and medical exemption clauses.” She opened the folder and turned it to face Mac.
“If a relationship is documented through internal HR protocol and the staff member removes themselves from direct care, it’s not a violation. ”
Booth raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Page twelve,” Ivy said. “There’s precedent. Two cases in the past six years—different departments, smaller franchises—but it holds. As long as William signs off and I take over full lead for Oliver’s treatment, we’re covered.”
Mac didn’t move for a second.
William spoke again, quieter now as he faced me. “When you first joined this team, I didn’t think you were ready. You were methodical. Cold. Too idealistic. I thought you’d burn out before the first preseason ended.”
I blinked. “I know.”
“But I was wrong,” he said. “You’re the backbone of this department now. Ivy and I can take on Oliver, but we don’t want you gone, Sloane. You make this team better. Every part of it. And we are not the first, nor the last team to have to deal with something like this.”
Ivy nodded. “You’re the reason we even have a full wellness program now. And half the team only comes to psych check-ins because of you. If you leave, we lose more than a staffer.”
The lump in my throat grew. I couldn’t speak.
Mac rubbed his jaw, his gaze never leaving my face as he asked the group. “You’re both vouching for her?”
“Yes, we are.” William stood and walked over to me, holding out a fist for me to bump it. “There’s a way to figure this out without her having to resign.”
Mac looked at me. “You’d have to step back. No direct sessions. No involvement with Oliver’s clearance. He’ll be reassigned to Ivy and William permanently.”
“I understand,” I said, voice strained. “I want what’s best for him. I never should’ve let it get this far.”
Ivy touched my arm. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sloane. You cared. That’s not a failure.”
Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t let them fall.
Not yet. Not here. I did do something wrong.
I didn’t report our relationship to HR out of fear, knowing it broke the ethics clause.
I loved that they stood up for me, but the guilt killed me.
“No, I did mess up. I should’ve reported it, and I should’ve removed myself—”
Mac tapped the folder once. “Enough. If they vouch for you, then I’m good. We proceed with the plan. You take administrative leave for ten business days. After that, you return under revised scope. No media coverage. No statements.”
I nodded again. “I can do that.”
Mac leaned back. “Then we’re done here.”
The meeting ended without any ceremony.
I stepped out into the hall and leaned back against the wall, my chest tight with something I couldn’t name. Ivy joined me a moment later. She didn’t speak. She stood beside me, shoulder to shoulder, like we always had each other’s backs.
“You didn’t lose your job,” she finally said.
“No,” I said. “And I owe you and William for that.”
Ivy nodded slowly. “Nah, that’s what we do here.
We’re family and look out for each other.
You think I don’t know what it’s like falling for a goddamn athlete?
It’s exhausting.” She grinned before sighing.
“You belong here. And Oliver belongs here. This is the way to make that happen. I’m not losing either one of you. ”
“Thank you, Ivy. For… everything.” My voice cracked, and she pulled me into a hug, and I let myself feel it. The support, the team, the feeling like my entire life was meant to end up here.
She let go of me and laughed. “Hey, so I need a ride to Oliver’s place. Heard my husband showed up and kind of threw a fit?”
“Yes, he did.” I laughed, just as William joined us.
“Are you all heading to see Oliver? Can I join?”
“Damn, Benson, look at you breaking protocol now.” Ivy winked at him as he rolled his eyes. “But yeah, we’re tagging along with Mercer since my husband is also there.”
“Thank you, William,” I said, holding out my hand. “You stood up for me, and that means… more than you know.”
He stared at the hand before bypassing it and going for a hug. My eyes prickled at the support. “Not hard when you’re fucking good at your job. Now let’s go. Mac will probably try to join, and I don’t want to be there when him or Booth show up. Booth has been grumpy since his wife left him.”
“Great,” Ivy said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Love that for us.”
The three of us walked out of the stadium, the two of them joking around like my career hadn’t just been saved.
I was so thankful. It overwhelmed me that my life could turn out this way.
I laughed along with them but couldn’t wait to tell Oliver.
We could stay on the same team, travel together, be together openly, while we each kept our dream jobs.
Couldn’t believe I chose to move to Chicago with a hope and a dream, and here I was, living it loudly. I’d never take this job, team, or found family for granted, that was for damn certain. Now I had to go back home and tell the man I loved that we were living our happy ever after.