Chapter 29 Roman
ROMAN
Three days of watching Marnie shut down and I’m done playing by her rules.
She asked for space. I gave her space.
She’s been maintaining distance like her life depends on it—avoiding me in hallways, leaving team facilities early, responding to texts with single words if she responds at all.
I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to protect both of us from Winters. Trying to be so perfect, so spotless, that he can’t find anything to use against her.
But all she’s actually doing is making herself miserable while Winters waits for his next opening.
The problem is that Winters isn’t going away. He’s biding his time, documenting everything, building his case. And no amount of Marnie avoiding me in public is going to change that.
So I’m ending this. Today.
I knock on Barrett’s office door at 7 AM, before practice, before anyone else is in the building.
He looks up from his computer, raises an eyebrow when he sees me.
“Captain. Early even for you.”
“Got that documentation we talked about.” I close the door behind me and set my laptop on his desk. “Everything you need on Winters.”
Barrett sits up straighter. “You finished it.”
“Three former players, full medical records, testimony transcripts, timeline analysis showing the pattern.” I open the laptop, pull up the files.
“Louden, Granger, Donovan—all rushed back too early, all with complications, all documented. Plus Rodriguez’s case showing Marnie followed protocol exactly while Winters pushed for two days recovery on a grade two MCL. ”
I turn the screen toward him. “It’s all here. Organized, ready to go.”
Barrett scans through the documents, his expression getting grimmer with each page.
“This is damning.”
“That’s the point.” I lean back. “You said you couldn’t act unless Winters escalated. But when he does, you’ll have everything you need to bury him.”
“And if he doesn’t escalate?”
“He will. He’s been watching Marnie for months, documenting everything. It’s just a matter of time before he makes his move.” I close the laptop. “I want you armed when he does.”
Barrett sighs deeply. “You know Marnie doesn’t know about this.”
“I know.”
“She’s going to find out eventually.”
“When Winters is already gone and her job is safe.” I stand.
Barrett shakes his head slightly. “Get your files ready. I’ll tell you when we need them.”
I leave feeling like I’ve at least done something. Set the trap. Now we just wait for Winters to step in it.
But waiting isn’t going to help Marnie stop being scared.
For that, I need a different approach.
The bookstore downtown opens at 9 AM. I’m waiting outside at 8:55.
When the employee unlocks the door—a woman in her twenties with pink hair and multiple piercings—she looks at me like I’m lost.
“Can I help you?”
“I need hockey romance books.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Yeah, sure. Follow me.”
She leads me to a display near the back. Shelves and shelves of books with shirtless men and hockey sticks and titles that make me question my entire sport.
“Looking for anything specific?”
I show her the pictures I’ve taken of Marnie’s book covers when she wasn’t paying attention.
“These authors. Whatever you have.”
She looks at the list and grins. “Oh, you’re doing research. That’s actually sweet. Give me a minute.”
Twenty minutes later I’m walking out two hundred dollars lighter with a bag containing six books and a plan that’s either brilliant or completely insane.
Probably both.
I spend the afternoon reading instead of watching game footage.
Not ideal preparation for our upcoming games, but I need to understand what Marnie loves about these books. Need to see what she sees in them.
The first one is called Cross-Checking the Captain and it’s… educational.
The captain in this book is possessive and commanding and apparently very good with things that aren’t hockey. The sexual tension starts on page twelve.
By page forty-seven they’re arguing and it’s clearly foreplay.
By page ninety-three he’s got her pressed against the wall of the locker room after hours, and the descriptions are detailed enough that I’m reconsidering some assumptions about what’s structurally possible in that space.
I’m three books deep when Brody walks into the players’ lounge and catches me with my highlighter out, color-coding explicit content like it’s game play.
He stops and stares at the book in my hands.
“Cap. Is that a romance novel?”
“Research.”
“For what?”
“A complicated personal situation.”
He drops onto the chair across from me and kicks his feet up. “Does this situation involve our head PT who’s been avoiding you for three days?”
“Maybe.”
“And your solution is to read romance novels?” He sounds both baffled and impressed.
“My solution is to understand what she loves and use it to prove a point.” I show him page 147, highlighted in green. “This scene here—it’s about trust. About the couple fighting for each other.”
Brody reads the passage and his eyebrows climb. “That’s actually kind of—”
“Don’t.”
“—romantic. In a completely unhinged way.” He grins. “What’s the plan?”
“Team dinner Saturday. I’m bringing one of these. Showing her I pay attention. That I know what matters to her.”
“You’re going to bring romance novels to a team dinner.”
“Just one. Not the whole bag. That would be excessive.”
“Cap, this entire plan is excessive.” But he’s smiling. “You need help with anything?”
“Just make sure everyone’s at Dex’s Saturday night. Including Marnie.”
“She declined the invitation.”
“She’ll change her mind.”
I pull out my phone.
Me
Team dinner Saturday. You’re coming. Trust me.
She doesn’t respond immediately, but I know she’s reading it. Know she’s probably panicking about what I’m planning.
Good. Let her panic a little. Then I’ll show her exactly why she doesn’t need to be scared anymore.
By Saturday I’ve read four complete books and skimmed a fifth.
I’ve learned that hockey romance novels feature an improbable amount of locker room encounters, and even some completely unrealistic but absolutely steamy scenes in the penalty box, and that the couples who make it are the ones who fight for each other instead of hiding.
Also that I have some logistically interesting ideas for the next time Marnie and I have an empty apartment and no time constraints.
Saturday night I arrive at Dex’s house with Cross-Checking the Captain in my hand.
“You actually brought it,” Brody says when he sees me walk in.
“Told you I would.”
“This is either going to be the smoothest move I’ve ever seen or a complete disaster.”
“Could be both.”
I set the book on the side table in Dex’s living room where Marnie will definitely see it when she arrives.
If she arrives.
She hasn’t responded to any of my texts today and I’m fifty-fifty on whether she’ll actually show up.
Dex comes over, sees the book, picks it up.
“Is this—oh my god, Cap. I thought Brody was lying.” He flips it open, sees my highlights. “You color-coded it. You color-coded a romance novel.”
“I color-code everything.”
“Game footage, sure. But this?”
“It’s not just—” I stop. “It has useful relationship advice.”
“That’s the longest way anyone’s ever said ‘feelings with detailed sex scenes.’” He sets it back down. “This is amazing. When’s she getting here?”
“No idea. She might not come.”
“She’ll come. She’s been miserable without you.” Dex grins. “Also I want to see her face when she sees this.”
Marnie arrives exactly twenty-eight minutes later.
She walks through the door looking exhausted and beautiful and absolutely terrified of what I’m about to do.
Her eyes find mine across the room, then drop to the book in my hands.
She crosses the room slowly and takes it from me, flipping through the pages.
“Roman.” Her voice is carefully controlled. “What is this?”
“Research.” I move to stand beside her, close enough that our arms touch. “I’ve been reading what you read. Trying to understand what you love about these stories.”
Her face goes red. “You read this?”
“I read five of them.” I take the book from her hands and turn to a heavily highlighted page. “This scene here. Page one forty-seven. I want to try it with you.”
She covers her face with her hands. “You’re insane.”
Rodriguez hobbles over on his crutches, sees the book in my hand, and his face lights up.
“Cap. Is that what I think it is?”
“Research,” Brody calls from across the room.
“For what?” Rodriguez asks.
“Proving a point.” I look at Marnie, whose hands are still covering her face. “That aside from the extremely unrealistic sex, the couples fight for each other.”
Her hands drop. “You read five romance novels to prove a point.”
“Four and a half. I skimmed parts of the last one. The plot was repetitive.”
“And you highlighted them.”
“Green for things I want to try, yellow for things that need discussion, red for logistically impossible but theoretically interesting.”
She fans the pages. “There’s a lot of green.”
“I’m very motivated.” I pick up the book again, flip to a page I highlighted yellow. “This couple spent three chapters being terrified of what everyone else would think. And then they decided that what they had was worth more than other people’s opinions.” I close it. “Sound familiar?”
She stares at the book, then at me. “You’re really doing this. In front of everyone.”
“Everyone here already knows. And they don’t care.” I gesture around the room—Dex, Brody, Elliot, Rodriguez, Barrett sitting in the corner with a beer pretending not to listen. “So yeah. I’m really doing this.”
She laughs softly, then she leans forward and kisses me.
Right there in front of everyone. Intentional and public and perfect.
When she pulls back, she’s smiling. “You’re completely insane.”
“Committed.”
“Same thing.” She picks up the book, flips through my highlighted pages. “Some of these are very ambitious.”
“I’m very motivated.”
Rodriguez grins. “Can I just say—this is the most Cap thing I’ve ever witnessed. ‘I will solve this relationship problem with RESEARCH and HIGHLIGHTERS.’”
“It worked,” I point out.
“It absolutely did.” He picks up the book, flips to a random page. “Oh wow, Cap highlighted the—”
I take the book back. “Some of those are private.”
“You brought it to team dinner!”
“For Marnie. Not for commentary.”
Barrett clears his throat from across the room. “For the record, what you do outside this facility is your business. But here?” He raises his beer. “You’re adults. Act like it.”
“To adults acting like adults,” Dex says, raising his own drink. “And to Cap’s extensive romance novel research.”
“To romance novel research,” everyone echoes.
The chirping continues through dinner—Rodriguez asking pointed questions about specific scenes, Brody suggesting I make a spreadsheet of my highlights, Elliot wanting to know if I’d recommend any for their book club.
I endure it because it’s worth it to see Marnie relaxed for the first time in days, laughing at my expense, her hand finding mine under the table.
Later, after dinner when people are migrating to different conversations, Marnie and I end up on Dex’s back deck.
She’s wearing my jacket against the chill, looking out at the city lights.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For reading terrible books. For—” She turns to look at me. “For proving you meant it. That I’m worth fighting for.”
“You are. Always have been.”
“Even when I’m panicking and pushing you away?”
“Especially then.” I pull her against my chest. “Though next time maybe panic less and trust me more?”
“I’ll try.” She laughs softly. “The books were sweet. In a completely crazy way.”
“I’m keeping the list.”
“I know.” She tilts her head up. “Some of those greens were really ambitious.”
“We have time to work up to them.”
“That’s what concerns me.” But she’s smiling. “Going public like this—in front of everyone—that was a risk.”
“A calculated one. Everyone in that room already knew. And they’re on our side.” I kiss her forehead. “Besides, I’m done letting Winters control our lives. Let him watch. Let him document. We’re not hiding anymore.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple. We’re together. We’re not breaking any rules. And if Winters has a problem with it, that’s his problem. Not ours.”
She’s quiet, and I watch her process. Wanting to believe it but still scared.
“What if he comes after me anyway?”
“Then we deal with it.” I tilt her chin up. “But you don’t have to be scared anymore, Marnie. I’m not going to let him destroy you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’ll fight for you. That’s enough.”
She studies my face, then nods slowly. “Okay. No more hiding. No more avoiding you in hallways.”
“Good.”
“Though I’m still not trying the scene from the training room.”
“What about the other one? That one was less location-specific.”
“We’ll see.” She laughs and looks less scared. More like herself.
Inside, the team is still laughing. Rodriguez is probably reenacting scenes with Brody.
And somewhere, Winters is probably plotting his next move.
But right now, standing on this deck with Marnie in my arms, I don’t care.