Chapter 42
Laiken
I arrive at the rink earlier than usual. The lights buzz overhead as I walk through the familiar hallway, hoping the sharp scent of ice and rubber will do what it always has and calm me.
It doesn’t.
Nothing does.
My coffee remains untouched in my hand as my mind replays the same moment on a relentless loop. My fist connecting with Collin’s face and then his head snapping back. The impact is reframed from angles I didn’t even know existed.
On the ice, fights are part of the job. They’re expected. Almost ceremonial.
Off the ice, they’re a liability.
Especially now.
Pressure builds behind my eyes as my jaw tightens, my teeth grinding together before I make the conscious effort to relax. I’ve faced worse than a fine. Worse than a suspension. What I can’t stomach is the idea of a judge watching that clip and deciding I’m volatile.
I’ve sat in family court before. I know how quickly nuance can be stripped away.
How context disappears the second emotion enters the frame.
How a man defending his family becomes a risk the moment his temper is visible on a screen.
All it takes is one aggressive, impulsive word, and suddenly visitation schedules are rewritten by people who don’t know me or my daughter.
That’s the very real fear crawling under my skin, refusing to leave.
I stop outside the conference room and take a measured breath before pushing the door open.
Hugh is already seated at the head of the table with a neat stack of folders arranged with military precision in front of him.
Evelyn stands near the window, arms folded loosely, gaze steady.
Rina sits near the center, tablet in hand, dark hair pulled back, expression calm in a way that tells me she’s already ten steps ahead of the story.
A man I don’t recognize loiters near the far wall. My guess is that he’s somewhere in his early thirties. His suit is immaculate, and his posture is relaxed but alert. He pockets his phone as I enter, then gives me a brief nod.
Hugh gestures toward him. “Laiken, this is Noah Walker. Team counsel.”
Noah steps forward and extends a hand. “Good to meet you. Although, I wish it were under better circumstances.”
His grip is firm. He strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn’t need to raise his voice because he already knows how to command a room.
“All right then, now that everyone’s here, let’s get to it,” Hugh says once we’re seated.
He doesn’t waste any time.
“The video looks bad,” Hugh says, sliding a tablet across the table. “And it’s not just fans who are watching. The league office, sponsors, and our broadcast partners are all paying attention.”
I don’t touch the tablet. I’ve already seen enough. This is the part where brands protect their image and players are reminded how replaceable they are once optics turn ugly. I understand the machine and have always played my role within it.
Rina speaks before I can mentally spiral. “From a PR standpoint, we’re positioning this as an isolated incident. No history or pattern of escalation. Context is everything.”
Evelyn takes a seat at the table. Instead of looking at the tablet, her gaze remains fastened on me. “This wasn’t recklessness,” she says evenly. “It was defense.”
Hugh glances at her before his attention slides back to me.
“It was about protecting his family,” she adds. “Anyone who tries to frame it otherwise will have to go through me first.”
She doesn’t hesitate or try to distance herself from any of it. She believes Kia and is choosing a side.
Ours.
Noah finally speaks again. “The good news is Collin DeSoto declined to press charges. I wanted that confirmed before saying anything. There won’t be a criminal case.”
I stay still, barely able to breathe.
“The league is issuing a fine,” he continues. “But no suspension or further disciplinary action will be taken against you.”
Relief hits like a delayed wave, crashing over me with so much force, my fingers curl against the arms of the chair. Tension drains from me in one long exhale.
It’s a small miracle.
Rina’s shoulders loosen as she starts typing. “We’ll have a statement out by noon. No interviews unless absolutely necessary.”
Evelyn nods once. “We’ll manage the media cycle. If we’re lucky, it’ll flare and then fade.”
Hugh closes the folder. “Do me a favor, Lennox. Don’t give them a sequel.”
“We won’t,” I say, meaning it.
We spend another half hour reviewing language, timelines, and press releases. As I rise to leave, the understanding of how close I came to losing everything presses down on me. If I’d hit him a second time or lost control, this meeting could’ve ended very differently.
The locker room is already buzzing as I step inside. Music blasts as the guys tease one another, giving each other shit. The moment someone notices me, the entire room quiets.
Steele breaks the silence. “Everything good, Lennox?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s fine.”
Knox nods once. “You did what any of us would’ve in the same situation.”
River’s gaze holds steady. “Damn right. We’ve got your back.”
Oliver doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he studies me before stepping closer, his voice low. “Thanks for protecting my sister.”
The last of my tension drains with those words.
Jax snorts. “Next time, how about we try using words first. You know, lots of ‘I’ statements. ‘I feel—fill in the blank—when you do this.’ See how easy that is?”
A few chuckles ripple throughout the room, and the atmosphere lightens, returning to normal.
I suit up, muscle memory carrying me through when my thoughts continue to lag behind. The gear goes on piece by piece. First pads, then skates, and finally gloves.
When I step onto the ice, the cold cuts through some of the haze.
It bites at my lungs, forcing me into the present whether I’m ready or not.
Between drills, I skate slow circles near the crease, letting the rhythm and routine do what it’s always done and hold me upright when everything else threatens to tilt.
It doesn’t take long before my mind drifts to Kia and the way she looked at me last night, like I was solid ground beneath her feet.
In the end, I protected her the only way I knew how. I didn’t think or hesitate. I just acted.
And I’d do it all over again.
I’ve never been the kind of man who stands by while someone I care about gets hurt. I’m not wired to watch and wait, hoping it works out in the end. I shield what’s mine, protecting the people who trust me.
No matter what the cost.
A puck rockets toward me and I square my shoulders, dropping into position on instinct. The shot slams into my pads, the impact rattling up my legs, sharp enough to sting.
Good.
I welcome it. I want something I can absorb. Something I can stop.
Because there are too many things I can’t control.
Today, we’re still standing.
But tomorrow?
That remains a question mark.