Chapter 18
Oakley
The Administrative Building was quiet on Sunday morning. It was a tomb for bureaucracy, filled with locked doors and empty desks.
But the Dean’s office wasn't empty.
I marched down the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. I was still wearing my suit pants from the night before, but I had ditched the jacket and rolled up my sleeves. My knuckles were bruised. My eyes were burning from lack of sleep.
Beside me, Faye walked with a quiet, steely determination. She was holding my hand. Her grip was tight, her palm sweating slightly against mine.
"Are you sure about this?" she whispered as we approached the heavy oak doors.
"I've never been more sure of anything," I said, squeezing her hand. "Do you trust me?"
She looked up at me. Her hazel eyes were clear, the hurt from the last few weeks still there, but overshadowed by a fierce, terrifying hope.
"I trust you," she said.
I pushed the doors open without knocking.
Inside, a meeting was already in progress. Dean Miller sat behind his desk. My father, Elias Thorne, was pacing by the window. Coach Varon was slumped in a chair, nursing a coffee. And Vance, the lawyer, was tapping away on his tablet.
They all looked up as we entered.
Silence descended like a shroud.
"Oakley?" Elias said, his voice deceptively calm. He eyed Faye, and his lip curled in a subtle sneer. "What is this? Why is she here?"
"She's here because I invited her," I said, pulling Faye into the room and closing the door behind us. "And we're here to renegotiate."
"Renegotiate?" Dean Miller sputtered, standing up. "Mr. Thorne, the matter is settled. Miss Sommers has been reassigned. You are transferring. The paperwork is filed."
"Unfile it," I said, walking up to the desk. I placed both hands on the surface and leaned in. "Because I'm not transferring. And she's not leaving the Hockey program."
Elias laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound. "You're delusional, Oakley. You think you can just walk in here and make demands? You signed the statement. You admitted it was a mistake."
"I lied," I said, straightening up and turning to face my father. "I lied to protect her from you. Because you threatened her scholarship. You threatened her future."
"And the threat stands," Elias said, his eyes narrowing. "Dean Miller, call campus security. Have Miss Sommers escorted off the premises. And revoke her funding effective immediately."
Faye flinched, stepping closer to me.
I stepped in front of her, shielding her with my body.
"If you do that," I said, my voice low and steady, "I walk."
"Walk where?" Elias scoffed. "To your room? To cry?"
"No," I said. "I walk away from the team. I walk away from the University. And I walk away from the draft."
The room went dead silent. Even Vance stopped typing.
"Excuse me?" Coach Varon asked, sitting up straight.
"You heard me," I said. "If you touch her scholarship... if you fire her... I quit. Right now. Today. I won't play in the National Championship game."
"We already won the Championship," Elias pointed out smugly. "Last night. You have the trophy."
"The National Championship," I corrected. "The Frozen Four is in two weeks. That's the one everyone is watching. That's the one that cements the legacy."
Elias’s face tightened. "You wouldn't dare. You've worked your whole life for this. You're the number one pick."
"And if I quit now," I continued, "if I retire before the draft... what does that do to the Thorne legacy? What does it look like when the heir apparent walks away because his father tried to blackmail his girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend?" Dean Miller squeaked.
"Yes," I said, reaching back to grab Faye’s hand again. "Girlfriend. Mate. Whatever you want to call it. We're together."
Elias’s face turned a mottled shade of red. "You are bluffing. You care too much about the game. You're obsessed with it."
"I was," I admitted. "Until I realized it was lonely at the top. I realized I don't want to be you, Father. I don't want to be a king in an empty castle. I want a life."
I pulled out my phone.
"I have the number for ESPN on speed dial," I said. "And The Claw. And every sports blog in the country. I'm ready to give an exclusive interview. 'Why I'm Walking Away: The Truth About the Thorne Family'."
Elias stared at the phone. He calculated. He was a businessman, first and foremost. He weighed the cost of the scandal against the cost of his pride.
A scandal about blackmail and corruption would destroy the family foundation. It would tank the stock. It would ruin his reputation.
"You're ungrateful," Elias spat. "After everything I gave you."
"You gave me fear," I said quietly. "She gave me courage. I'm keeping the courage."
I turned to Dean Miller.
"Here are the terms," I said. "Faye stays. Her scholarship is fully funded—by the University, not the Thorne Foundation, so he can't touch it. She finishes her rotation with the Hockey team. And I stay. I finish the season. I win you the Frozen Four. And then I go pro."
"And the... relationship?" Miller asked nervously.
"Is public," I said. "We disclose it. We sign the conflict of interest waivers. We follow the protocols. But we don't hide."
Dean Miller looked at Elias. Elias was staring out the window, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. He knew he was beaten. He knew that destroying me would destroy him too.
"Fine," Elias said, waving a hand dismissively. "Do what you want. Ruin your career. Marry the help. I don't care. Just win the damn game."
He turned and walked out of the office without looking at me. Vance followed him like a shadow.
The door clicked shut.
I let out a breath I had been holding for twenty minutes. My knees felt weak.
Coach Varon stood up. He walked over to me. He looked at Faye, then at me.
A slow smile spread across his weathered face.
"Well," Varon said. "That was... impressive. Stupid. Reckless. But impressive."
"Thanks, Coach," I managed.
"Get out of here," Varon said. "Go rest. You have practice tomorrow. And Sommers?"
Faye looked up, startled. "Yes, Coach?"
"My lower back is killing me," he said. "Be at the rink at 3:00. Don't be late."
Faye beamed. "Yes, sir."
We walked out of the office.
We walked down the hall, hand in hand.
When we hit the fresh air outside, I stopped. I pulled Faye into my arms and kissed her. Right there on the steps of the Admin building. In full view of the campus.
"You were amazing," she whispered against my lips. "You terrified me, but you were amazing."
"I meant it," I said, resting my forehead against hers. "I would have walked away. In a heartbeat."
"I know," she said. "That's why I believe you."
The next two weeks were a whirlwind.
The news broke. Captain Thorne confirms relationship with staff member. Conflict waivers signed. Team supports the couple.
It was a minor scandal for about twenty-four hours. The Claw had a field day. People whispered in the cafeteria. Jessica glared at us from across the quad.
But then, the hockey started again.
We swept the semi-finals. We dominated. I played better than I ever had. I wasn't playing angry anymore. I was playing free.
Faye was at every game. She was in the tunnel. She was taping my ankles. She was wearing my jersey.
And every time I looked up into the stands and saw her, I knew I had won the only game that mattered.
Then came the Draft Lottery.
We gathered at the Lodge to watch it on TV. The whole team was there. Pizza, beer, nerves.
The announcer walked up to the podium.
"With the first overall pick in the 2025 NHL Draft, the Detroit Red Wings select..."
My name.
The room exploded. Jax tackled me. Kael poured a beer on my head.
I laughed, wiping the foam from my eyes, and looked for Faye.
She was standing by the fireplace, smiling. But her eyes were sad.
I extricated myself from the pile and walked over to her.
"Hey," I said, taking her hands. "Detroit. That's not too far. Four hours."
"It's far enough," she said quietly. "You're going to be a star, Oakley. You're going to be busy. Traveling. Living the dream."
"Our dream," I corrected. "Remember? The apartment. The dog."
"Are you sure?" she asked. "Now that it's real? Now that you're actually leaving?"
"I'm not leaving us," I said. "I'm just moving my stuff. You have one more year here. Then you come to me. I'll drive back every weekend I can. You'll come to games. We'll make it work."
"It's going to be hard," she whispered.
"We do hard," I reminded her. "We do broken bones and psychotic fathers and scandals. Distance is nothing."
I reached into my pocket.
"Also," I said, my heart starting to hammer. "I have something for you."
"A present?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is it another snow boot?"
"Better."
I pulled out a small velvet box.
Faye gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. The room went silent. Jax turned down the volume on the TV.
"Oakley," she breathed. "Is that..."
"It's not a ring," I said quickly, opening the box. "Not yet. I promised I wouldn't scare you off."
Inside the box was a key. A simple silver key on a chain.
"It's a key," she said, confused.
"To the apartment," I said. "In Detroit. I signed the lease yesterday. It's yours. Whenever you want. Weekends. Holidays. Summers. It's your home too."
She stared at the key. Tears welled in her eyes.
"And," I added, grinning. "The building allows dogs. I checked."
She laughed, a sob escaping her throat. She threw her arms around my neck.
"Yes," she cried. "Yes to the apartment. Yes to the dog. Yes to you."
The team cheered. Jax popped a bottle of champagne.
I held her tight, burying my face in her neck.
We had made it. We had survived the storm.
And as I looked around the room at my friends, my team, and the woman I loved, I realized something.
My father was wrong.
Control wasn't about suppressing the fire. It wasn't about being cold.
Control was about choosing what you burned for.
And I burned for her.
One Year Later
The Detroit arena was louder than Ironclaw ever was. Twenty thousand fans. Professional grade lights.
I sat in the locker room, lacing my skates.
"Thorne! You ready?" the Captain called out.
"Ready," I said.
I stood up. I adjusted my pads. I tapped my chest—right over my heart.
I walked out of the tunnel.
The ice was pristine.
I skated a lap during warm-ups. I looked up at the glass.
Third row. Just behind the bench.
Faye was there. She was wearing a Red Wings jersey with THORNE 19 on the back. She was holding a sign that said GO WOLF.
And sitting on her lap, wearing a tiny matching jersey, was a golden retriever puppy.
She saw me. She waved the puppy's paw at me.
I grinned. A real, genuine smile that reached my eyes.
I tapped my chest again. I see you. You're my anchor.
She tapped hers back.
The buzzer sounded.
I skated to the face-off circle. The ref dropped the puck.
I won the draw.
And as I skated up the ice, feeling the wind on my face and the love in my heart, I knew one thing for sure.
The monster was gone.
The man was here to stay.
And he was going to have a hell of a life.