Chapter 26 #2
The argument escalates quickly. Zara’s patience is clearly wearing thin as she gestures sharply. “This is damage control, Cole. You cannot just go public with ‘yeah, I was on my knees in an elevator’ energy and expect it to go well. We need to be smart about this.”
Cole crosses his arms, wincing a little at the pull on his ribs. “I’m not ashamed. I’m not hiding. Viktor is my boyfriend. End of story. If people have a problem with it, they can deal with it.”
Damian looks like he wants to beat both of them with his cane.
He is rubbing his temple with one hand, the other gripping the cane so tight his knuckles are white.
“Both of you, enough. We need a statement that acknowledges the relationship without giving the media more ammunition. Something simple. Professional.”
Zara throws her hands up. “Professional? With him making heart eyes at Viktor every five seconds and Viktor looking like he wants to throw anyone who looks at Cole wrong through a wall? Good luck with that.”
I lean forward slightly, calm but firm as I cut through the argument. “Cole is right. We should not hide. The rumors are already there. Pretending otherwise will only make the rumors worse. We acknowledge the relationship. We control the narrative. But we do not apologize for it.”
The room goes silent for a beat. Zara stares at me like I have lost my mind, eyes wide behind her sharp eyeliner. Damian raises an eyebrow, but there is a hint of approval in his expression. Cole turns to me, his hand squeezing mine under the table.
Zara opens her mouth, then closes it again, clearly recalibrating. “You… want to go public? Fully?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “Cole is not a secret. He never should have been.”
Damian looks at all of us with that no-nonsense coach glare.
“If people can be fine with me and Elias being a couple — and married, at that — they can be fine with this too. Just make sure Cole does not come out as a damn whore on public television. Keep it classy. A simple statement. Relationship confirmed. Private life is private. End of story.”
The tone of the meeting shifts. Zara starts typing on her tablet, the fight draining out of her as she drafts something more balanced. Cole leans into my side, clearly relieved. I keep my hand on his, thumb stroking over his knuckles. We are doing this. No more hiding.
Zara eventually leaves the office muttering to herself about how Damian should give her a raise for dealing with all of us. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly it is just the three of us again — Damian, Cole, and me.
Damian leans back in his chair, studying us both with that sharp, knowing look. “Are you two sure about this?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, my hand still holding Cole’s under the table.
Damian looks at me, scanning my face the way he has been doing almost every day since the hospital. I am sure he suspects what I did to my father. He has always been able to read me better than most. But he does not say anything. He never does. He just nods once, like he has decided to let it be.
“Alright. Cole, how are the ribs?” Damian asks, shifting the conversation.
“Oh, amazing!” Cole says brightly. “Can I play now?”
Both Damian and I glare at him at the same time. Cole shrinks back a little, but the grin on his face does not fade.
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly. “It’s barely been a few days, not even a week since the hospital. You are not playing until you are fully healed.”
“But daaaadddy!” Cole whines, dragging the word out in that dramatic, playful way that always makes my chest tighten.
Damian leans forward as he looks straight at Cole. “Hollywood, you do not want to end up like me.” He waves his cane in Cole’s face to make the point, the scarred wood cutting through the air like a warning.
Cole huffs, crossing his arms over his chest even though it clearly hurts his ribs. “That’s so different, though… sir.”
“Sure, it is,” Damian says, not backing down. “But if you do not wait for the recovery to be over and you go back on the ice too soon, the next time someone slams you into the boards, we are going to have a very early retirement conversation.”
It clearly works. The look on Cole’s face is pure terror and outrage at the mere idea of retirement.
His eyes go wide, mouth opening and closing like he cannot quite find the words.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
He looks like someone just threatened to take away his favorite toy — which, in a way, they did.
I squeeze his hand under the table, grounding him. “He is right. You need to heal properly. I am not carrying your stubborn ass around the ice when you re-injure yourself.”
Cole slumps back in his chair, still sulking but looking properly cowed for once. “Fine. But I am not happy about it.”
Damian snorts, leaning back with a satisfied look. “You do not have to be happy. You just have to be smart. Now go home and rest. That's an order.”
Cole nods, leaning into my side as we stand up. I keep my arm around him as we leave the office, the weight of his body against mine a quiet reminder that he is here.
On the way home, Cole is in a mood about being benched. He sits in the passenger seat with his arms crossed, still sulking even though the pain meds are clearly still working. The second we pull out of the parking lot, he starts negotiating.
“What if I just do light drills at home?” he asks, turning those big pleading eyes on me. “Nothing crazy. Just some stickhandling. Maybe a little skating in the driveway. You can supervise me. I’ll be super careful. Promise.”
I keep my eyes on the road, but the corner of my mouth twitches. “No.”
“Come on, Vik. I’ll go crazy just sitting around. You know I will. Light drills. Very light. Like… almost not drills at all. Just moving the puck around a little. For mental health.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You are not doing any drills. Not until the doctor clears you. No skating. No stickhandling. No ‘almost not drills.’ You are resting. That is final.”
He huffs, slumping back in his seat. “You're so mean. I'm injured and you're being mean to me. This is abuse. I'm telling Elias.”
I snort softly, reaching over to rest my hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. “You can tell Elias. He will agree with me. You need to heal, soroka. I am not watching you re-injure yourself because you are too stubborn to rest.”
Cole grumbles under his breath but leans into my touch, his hand covering mine. “Fine. But when I'm cleared, I'm doing extra drills just to spite you.”
I smile, small and fond, as I drive us home. “You can try. I will be there to make sure you do not overdo it.”
He laces our fingers together, the fight draining out of him as the car warms up and the city lights blur past.