Chapter 26
FACE THE MUSIC
GRANT
Cameras lined the back wall, lenses pointed at us like weapons. Reporters packed the seats, notebooks ready, phones recording, hungry for blood.
I sat at the table with June on my left and Jace on my right.
Paul stood off to the side near the wall, arms crossed, face carved from stone.
He'd insisted Jace be present—“If he's got nothing to hide, he sits there and faces it”—and I'd hated him for it but couldn't argue.
Keeping Jace hidden would've confirmed the narrative.
So here we were. Coach and player. Side by side. Pretending we were nothing more.
June leaned forward to the microphone, composed and deadly calm. “Good afternoon. We'll make a brief statement, then take a limited number of questions. Please keep them focused on hockey and the upcoming playoff qualifiers.”
A reporter in the front row immediately raised his hand. June ignored him and continued.
“Jace Hartley suffered injuries during our game against Boston three weeks ago.
He's been undergoing intensive rehabilitation under the supervision of our medical staff and is progressing well.
Coach Sutherland provided additional support during his recovery period, as any good coach would.
We don't comment on speculation or rumors, and we ask that you respect our team's privacy as we prepare for qualifiers.” She paused. “Questions?”
Every hand in the room shot up.
June pointed to a woman in the third row. “Yes.”
“Sarah Mitchell, Toronto Sports Network. The photos published this morning show Coach Sutherland and Jace Hartley in what appears to be an intimate setting at a private cabin. Can you explain the nature of their relationship?”
June's voice didn't waver. “As I stated, Coach Sutherland provided support during Jace's recovery. The photos were taken without consent and present an incomplete narrative. Next question.”
Another reporter, male, didn't wait to be called. “Is it true the coach drove to an undisclosed location for over a week without informing team management?”
“Coach Sutherland took brief personal time to assist with a player's mental health during a difficult recovery period. He remained in communication with assistant coaches throughout. Next.”
“Did management approve this... assistance?”
“We support our coaching staff in making decisions that benefit player welfare.” June's voice had gone colder. “Next question.”
A reporter near the back stood up. “Jace, how do you respond to allegations that Coach Sutherland has been showing you favoritism?”
The room went quiet. Every eye turned to Jace. I felt him tense beside me, felt the weight of the question land on him like a physical blow. June started to cut in, but Jace leaned forward to his microphone.
“Coach Sutherland benched me for three weeks to protect my health.” His voice was steady, controlled. “That's not favoritism. That's doing his job.”
“But the photos suggest—”
“The photos suggest I had someone who cared enough to make sure I was okay when I was spiraling.” Jace's jaw was tight. “Coach Sutherland has never compromised his professional judgment. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
I wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand under the table. Wanted to tell him he didn't have to defend me, that I could take the hits. But I couldn't move, couldn't react, couldn't do anything except sit there and let him fight this battle alone.
Another reporter jumped in. “Coach Sutherland, are you in a romantic relationship with your player?”
The question hit like a punch. I felt my pulse spike, felt June's hand land on my forearm under the table in warning. Don't react. Don't give them anything.
“No comment,” I said. My voice came out flat, dead.
“That's not a denial.”
“It's exactly what I said. No comment.” I kept my face neutral, kept my eyes forward. “Next question.”
“Is Jace Hartley the reason you're making roster decisions that some analysts say prioritize his return over team success?”
My jaw ticked. I felt anger rise hot and fast in my chest, but I swallowed it down. “My roster decisions are based on medical advice, team strategy, and what gives us the best chance to win. Hartley plays when he's cleared. Not before.”
“But you personally drove him to a private cabin—”
“To prevent a mental health crisis. Because he's a human being who was struggling, and I gave a shit. Next question.”
June squeezed my arm harder. Warning. I was losing control and she knew it.
A younger reporter near the front spoke up. “There are rumors that the league is investigating potential ethics violations. Can you comment?”
“We have no official notice of any investigation,” June said smoothly. “And we're confident that any review would show Coach Sutherland acted appropriately. This press conference is over. Thank you.”
She stood before anyone could throw another grenade. I followed her lead, and Jace did the same. Reporters shouted questions as we filed out but we kept walking.
The hallway outside felt like a release valve. I could finally breathe.
“You both did well,” she said without looking up. “Grant, you slipped at the end, but we can work with it. Jace, good instinct to defend without confirming.” She finally looked at us. “Now we go to Paul. And you let me talk.”
My stomach dropped. “Now?”
“Now. He wants both of you in his office immediately.” She started walking toward the executive wing. “And for the record, whatever you're about to say to defend yourselves, think very carefully. Because Paul is looking for a reason to end this.”
We followed her in silence.
Paul's office was cold despite the afternoon sun streaming through the windows.
He was already pacing when we walked in, a newspaper clutched in one hand, phone in the other. His face was flushed, and I could see the vein in his temple throbbing.
“Sit,” he barked.
Jace and I sat. June remained standing near the door, tablet ready.
Paul threw the newspaper onto his desk with a slap that made us both flinch. “Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you have any concept of the damage this has caused?”
I kept my voice level. “We didn't leak those photos. We didn't ask for this.”
“No, you just gave someone the ammunition to destroy this organization's reputation.” He leaned forward, hands braced on the desk.
“Sponsors are calling. The league office is asking questions.
Fans are divided. The media is having a field day.
And all because you couldn't keep your personal life separate from your professional obligations.”
“I did keep them separate—”
“You ignored protocol. And now there are photos proving you were closer than any coach should be with any player.” Paul's voice rose.
“I know.”
“You were compromising your position.” Paul straightened up, and I saw something cold settle into his expression. “You know why you were fired from your last job, Grant. Inappropriate boundaries with a player. That's what they said. That's what's on your record, even if it was hushed up.”
“That situation was different,” I said carefully.
“Was it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you have a pattern. You get emotionally involved with players. You cross lines. And when it blows up, you act surprised.” Paul's voice was cutting. “I took a chance on you. Gave you a second opportunity. And this is how you repay me?”
“I never compromised my coaching.”
“You benched our star player during a playoff push!”
I stood up, hands clenched at my sides. “Don't.”
“Don't what? Point out that every decision you've made regarding Hartley has been questionable at best?” Paul's eyes were ice. “It's all right there, Grant. And you're going to stand here and tell me there's nothing going on?”
“Paul—” June tried to interject.
“No. I want to hear it from him.” Paul turned his full attention on me. “Are you in a relationship with Hartley? Yes or no.”
The room went silent except for the hum of the HVAC and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Every instinct screamed at me to deny it, to protect us both, to save what little career I had left. But I was so fucking tired of lying.
“That's not the question you should be asking,” I said quietly.
“Then what is?”
“Whether I've ever let my feelings compromise my judgment. Whether I've ever made a decision that put Jace's career at risk. Whether I've ever prioritized anything over this team's success.” I met Paul's eyes. “And the answer to all of those is no.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“I know what you asked.” My voice was steady now, controlled. “And I'm telling you it doesn't matter. What matters is that I did my job. I pushed him when he needed to be pushed. I protected him from himself when he was destroying his body for hockey. And I'd do it all again.”
Paul stared at me, and I watched understanding dawn on his face. “You're in love with him.”
Jace made a small sound beside me—surprise or fear, I couldn't tell. June cursed quietly near the door.
I didn't deny it. Couldn't deny it. Not when it was written all over my face.
“Don't talk about him like he's a weapon,” I said, voice rougher now.
“Don't reduce him to a distraction or a scandal or a problem to be managed.
He's a person. He's brilliant and talented and works harder than anyone I've ever coached.
And yes, I love him. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm a good coach who made the right calls.”
Paul laughed. “That's not a defense, Grant. That's a confession.” He moved toward his desk, pulled open a drawer. “You're done. Effective immediately, you're terminated for conduct unbecoming and violation of team ethics policies.”
“Paul—” June stepped forward. “You need to think about this.”
“I have thought about it. He admitted to a relationship with a player. That's grounds for immediate termination. No severance, no references, no second chances.”