28. Theo
THEO
The boardroom smells like expensive leather and corporate anxiety. I sit at the head of the polished mahogany table, hands folded, watching twelve suits shuffle through printed reports that dissect my life with surgical precision.
"Let's begin with the metrics." Bree Henley, the team's Chief Marketing Officer, slides a tablet across the table. "Social media engagement is up forty-seven percent since the Emerson association began, but brand sentiment has dropped eighteen points."
I glance at the numbers without touching the device. "Engagement is engagement."
"Not when it's a negative engagement tied to scandal." Board member Ferdinard leans forward, his tie perfectly knotted despite the early hour. "Theo, we need to address the elephant in the room."
"Which elephant would that be?"
Ferdinard's jaw tightens. "Your relationship with Azaria Emerson is affecting team optics, sponsor confidence, and leadership perception among the fanbase."
. "My living arrangements aren't team business."
"They are when they generate headlines like these." Bree spreads a collection of tabloid covers across the table like evidence at a trial. "Mystery Romance or Career Suicide?" "Hockey's Golden Boy Falls for Scandal Queen." "Tate's Reputation on Thin Ice."
The headlines wash over me without impact. I've seen them all, analyzed them, filed them away as noise.
"These publications specialize in fiction. I don't make decisions based on tabloid narratives."
Board member Walsh adjusts his glasses. "What about sponsor decisions? We've documented concerns from three major endorsement partners regarding your association with someone under federal investigation."
"Ms. Emerson hasn't been charged with anything."
"She was present at a raid involving stolen jewelry and money laundering," Ferdinard counters. "Presence alone creates liability."
"Are you asking me to abandon someone based on allegations?"
"We're asking you to consider the broader implications of your choices."
"I have. Extensively."
Bree pulls up another document on her tablet. "Theo, your Q-score among female demographics aged eighteen to thirty-four has dropped twelve points. That's significant market share."
"And my performance metrics?"
"Remain excellent, but?—"
"Then we're discussing perception, not reality."
Walsh clears his throat. "Perception drives revenue. Revenue funds operations. Operations determine whether we can maintain current roster quality and facility standards."
He's not wrong, but he's not considering variables beyond spreadsheets either.
"What specific actions are you recommending?"
Ferdinard straightens his shoulders. "Public distancing. A statement clarifying that your association with Ms. Emerson is temporary and professional."
"Professional?"
"Family obligation. Helping a friend during a difficult period. Something that removes romantic speculation."
I study the faces around the table—twelve people whose careers depend on managing risk, who see Azaria as a liability to be minimized rather than a person being systematically destroyed.
"And if I decline?"
The room goes quiet. Bree exchanges glances with Ferdinard before speaking.
"Then we'll need to evaluate alternative leadership structures for next season."
This isn’t new. James made sure to talk my ears off about my captaincy being under review.
I fold my hands and lean forward slightly. "Gentlemen. Ladies. I understand your concerns about market perception and sponsor relationships. I also understand that this organization values leadership, integrity, and loyalty."
Ferdinard nods. "Exactly. Which is why?—"
"Which is why I won't be issuing any statements about my personal life or living arrangements. Ms. Emerson is dealing with a complex legal situation that requires careful handling. Abandoning her publicly would demonstrate exactly the kind of character you claim to be concerned about."
Bree’s stylus hovers over her tablet. "Theo, we're trying to protect your career."
"My career isn't built on abandoning people when they become inconvenient."
I can sense James in my peripheral vision, sitting rigid in his chair against the wall, but I don't look at him. He's been part of every conversation leading up to this moment, every strategy session about damage control and reputation management.
He knows exactly where I stand.
Walsh tries a different approach. "What if we positioned this as temporary? A statement that you're providing support during the investigation, with clear boundaries?"
"What boundaries?"
"No public appearances together. No social media presence. Separate entrances and exits for any shared events."
I almost smile at the absurdity. "You want me to hide her."
"We want you to protect your position while the legal situation is resolved."
"And after it resolves?"
Ferdinard shifts in his seat. "That depends on the resolution."
The answer tells me everything I need to know about their priorities and their assessment of Azaria's chances.
I stand, ending the meeting before they can present more charts or ultimatums.
"I'll take your concerns under advisement."
"Theo—"
"Sit down, Theo."
I remain standing, hands resting on the back of my chair.
"We're not making suggestions anymore." Walsh removes his glasses and sets them on the table. "This is a direct order from the board. You will issue a public statement distancing yourself from Azaria Emerson within a week."
Bree pulls up a document on her tablet. "We've already drafted the language. It emphasizes your commitment to the team and clarifies that any association with Ms. Emerson is purely circumstantial."
"Circumstantial?"
"Theo, we cannot have a valued player like you seen fraternizing with a criminal."
"She hasn't been convicted of anything."
"She was present at a crime scene involving federal charges," Walsh counters. "Public perception doesn't distinguish between guilt and association."
"Then public perception needs better information."
"Public perception is our business." Bree's stylus taps against her tablet screen. "And right now, it's costing us revenue."
"I will not be making any public statements that misrepresent the situation."
I maintain eye contact with Ferdinard, then Walsh, then Bree, ensuring each person at this table understands my position completely.
Ferdinard's jaw tightens. "Theo?—"
"The statement you're requesting contains inaccuracies I'm not willing to endorse publicly."
"What inaccuracies?"
"That my association with Ms. Emerson is purely circumstantial. That there are no personal considerations involved. That I'm prioritizing team optics over individual circumstances."
Walsh sets his hands flat on the table. "Those aren't inaccuracies. They're strategic communications."
"They're misrepresentations."
The room falls silent except for the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic from the street below.
Twelve people are absorbing the reality that their most disciplined player, their captain, their model of compliance, has just delivered the most diplomatic version of "no" possible while refusing to break eye contact with anyone at the table.
I straighten and step back from my chair.
"If there's nothing else, I have to go."
Ferdinard's voice follows me to the door. "The consequences of this decision are no longer hypothetical, Theo."
I pause on the door handle, not turning around.
"I understand."
The parking garage beneath the arena feels like a tomb. Concrete walls, fluorescent lighting, the echo of my footsteps bouncing off empty spaces. I sit in my car with the engine off, hands resting on the steering wheel, waiting.
Waiting for the weight of what just happened to push me toward the decision they want. Waiting for self-preservation to override whatever misguided loyalty is keeping me anchored to a situation that threatens everything I've built.