37. Harbor
HARBOR
I hide in my office until it’s time for the team meeting.
Ashamed, embarrassed.
Deeply mortified to be part of the very thing I was hired to avoid.
#SteeleScandal is trending, hitting over 100,000 views in less than twenty-four hours. I can’t stop scrolling with trembling hands, reading the vicious comments:
Nepotism at its finest.
This gives *taking one for the team* a whole new meaning.
Hayes always was good at scoring. Guess it runs in the family
And my personal favorite—# PuckSlut.
Hopefully, my father, the great Coach Hayes, doesn’t see that one. Not that it matters—I already know I’m never living this down. At this point, he’s probably disowning me. And why should I care? He’s not there for me anyway, not really.
Not when it counts.
I declined his calls all morning, then threw my phone on Silent and shoved the stupid thing into my desk drawer after his barrage of nasty texts.
Dad: Are you kidding me, Harbor?
Dad: You’re SLEEPING with the team captain?
Dad: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MOTHERFUCKING MIND?!?!
Dad: I raised you better than this
I’ve had more than enough of his bullshit. Lived my entire life trying to please him, measure up to his impossible standards.
But I’ll never be enough for him, no matter what I do.
I get it. I let everyone down—Prince, the team, my father.
Weston.
Myself.
I’m ruined.
Toast.
Damaged goods.
I doubt Prince will give me a glowing recommendation, and even if he does, it’s not like his words will hold much weight. My next employer would have to be clueless and desperate to hire me.
All of that’s bad, sure. But the thing that scares me—really shakes me to the core—is I don’t care.
None of this matters.
I’m losing Weston.
The man I’m wildly in love with.
And I never even told him. What’s the point now? It’s too late .
My chest constricts at the futility of our situation.
I’ve been in this business a long time, covered more than my fair share of shitstorms. I can spin worst case scenarios into bright spots in my freaking sleep.
But I can’t spin this. This is different—and so much worse.
This is personal and professional.
Exactly what I wanted to avoid.
Never mix business with pleasure, Harbor.
“Harbor, you ready?” Julianne raps lightly on the door, and I close my laptop, rising from this desk for the last time.
“Yes.” I force my legs to move. Across the room, down the hall, into the conference room where most of the team’s already seated.
I step to the podium, scanning the familiar faces. Prince, scowling. Tori next to him, her scarlet lips pressed together in a tight line. Coach Keller, arms folded and brows pinched, looking aggravated to be here.
Ford and Morrison, Isaacson and Dupont.
Callum, his mouth turned down. Reserved.
Bennett’s here, fists clenched and forehead furrowed. I’m assuming he’s seen the headlines. Maybe even spoke to Weston.
Weston.
He’s the only person not in the room.
Probably decided it’s better not to be in attendance, given his starring role in the video.
I don’t blame him.
Hopefully, he’ll get to keep his captaincy and come out unscathed.
Gripping the edges of the podium, I ground myself in the wood grain. Trying to hold on for a few more minutes before walking away with my head held high-ish.
But the room’s too bright, too quiet. Too full of people I’ve let down.
I want to sink into a pit in the carpeted floor and cry myself to sleep. Instead, I clear my throat and forge ahead.
“Thank you for coming. I apologize for the extra meeting—I know how busy the team is as we gear up for the first preseason game. But I wanted to address the recent headlines with you all in person. As you may have heard by now, a second video of the team party held a few weeks ago has leaked.”
A murmur trickles through the room, and I pause, waiting for the side conversations to fade. Pressure builds in my chest, but I push past the tension. The quicker I get through this, the sooner I can escape.
I swallow hard, take a quick sip of air. “Unfortunately, I’m in the video. Again.”
More chattering, a few gasps, and heat creeps up my neck. “Although the video’s innocuous and everything’s speculation, it’s better for the team and the brand if I resign. As of today, I’m no longer working for the Coastal Crushers.”
My voice doesn’t crack, but it should. Numbness has a way of icing even the most brutal goodbyes.
“No.” Weston’s deep voice booms behind me, shattering the silence. Heads swivel, all eyes suddenly on him.
I spin around to face him, his broad chest heaving like he sprinted here. His hair’s disheveled, wind-blown, and his jaw’s set with determination.
“If anyone should step away from this team, it’s me.” He’s strong and firm, hard resolve etched on his face .
“I’m the one who broke the rules. I’m the one who couldn’t stay away. And I won’t apologize for that.”
Stepping forward, he locks his eyes on Prince, then Keller.
“She was doing her job. I was the one pursuing her. Every time. So if someone’s getting benched for this, it should be me.”
My heartrate skyrockets as the entire room glances between me and Weston. My body burns, hands shaking. I’ve never been more grateful to be standing behind a podium in my life. At least the rest of the room can’t see the full-body tremors.
Prince’s furrow deepens and he opens his mouth to speak, but Weston cuts him off.
“Let’s not pretend this is about professionalism.
If that were true, both of us would be on the line.
Harbor’s the scapegoat here, and that’s not fair.
This woman—” He cuts his deep blue eyes to mine, and my stomach flip-flops the same way it always does under his gaze.
“Cleaned up our messes, protected us and our image. She kept the Crushers out of the news when Bennett got in the fight. She cares more about the team than herself. That’s why she’s willing to take the fall for this. ”
He steps toward me. Only half an inch, but it feels like a mile.
“She doesn’t deserve the humiliation she’s enduring. All for falling for someone.” His voice is softer now, his eyes only on mine. “Falling for me.”
My breath hitches in my throat, and I want to run to him. Throw my arms around his neck and seal our love with a kiss.
But I can’t.
“I won’t let her stand up here and pretend she did something wrong just so the rest of us can feel good about ourselves.
” Weston scans the room, his gaze lingering on Prince and Keller.
“Every crisis, every mess, every scandal—Harbor’s held the line.
She’s the reason we got to focus on hockey.
And now we’re going to let a fifteen-second video undo all that? ”
His eyes flick to mine, burning with an intensity I’ve never seen.
“I won’t let that happen. Trade me instead.”
A loud thud reverberates on the conference table and Coach Keller stands. “Enough. The two of you, sit the hell down. There’s no way in hell I’m trading my captain two days before the first preseason game. Not over some stupid viral video.”
He sits back down, steepling his fingers and glaring at Prince and Tori. Prince licks his bottom lip, contemplating his position. Tori bristles but says nothing.
After a long minute, Prince squares his shoulders. “Well, we have the media to deal with now, Mike. The team’s trending for all the wrong reasons.”
“Yeah, I get it. Probably not a smart decision to let the consultant who pulled you out of a hole walk away. Maybe we should let her do her job, so I can do mine. What I don’t want is more disruption to this team.
We need to focus on winning. And that happens on the ice.
I personally don’t give a shit what happens outside of this arena, as long as we win hockey games.
Now’s not the time to lose another player.
We’re already down one Steele—I can’t lose another. ”
“Agreed…” Prince’s voice trails off as he steeples his fingers, glaring at first me, then Weston. “We would be two men down…”
Ford of all people raises his hand, and inwardly I cringe. He could stand up and tell everyone the truth right now.
He clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, Mr. Prince, Coach—I wondered why Weston’s been stronger and faster than ever out on the ice. I think maybe I have the answer to his improved performance.” Staring straight at me, I blush under his gaze.
A few of the guys nod, shaking their heads. Bennett raises his hand to speak.
“I hesitate to let you say anything, Bennett, since you’re on probation. But what do you have to add?” Prince gestures at Bennett.
“I second what Ford said. I’ve never seen my brother more locked in. You’d be making a huge mistake letting Harbor go. You wanna see someone spiral? Cut her loose.”
Prince frowns, his brows scrunched together as he contemplates my fate, the fate of the team.
“Damn it. The two of you put me in a real predicament here. I don’t like it one little bit.
But after hearing all this, perhaps I was too hasty in my judgment.
Harbor, go back to your office and figure out how to make this shine.
Weston, stay focused out on the ice and winning the damn Cup this season.
The rest of you—stay the hell out trouble and don’t make me regret this decision. ”
With that, he rises and stomps out of the room, Tori trailing behind in her stilettos. Keller follows and the rest of the room bursts into conversation.
But honestly, none of that matters to me.
“Weston—” My voice is breathy, lightness filling my chest.
He says nothing, instead taking one long stride toward me. Hand on my hip, he leans down and presses his lips to mine .
Right here in the conference room, in front of the entire team.
“I love you,” I murmur, gazing up at him. The tension vanishes from his face and he breaks into a wide smile, arms wrapping around my waist. Fingers gripping his T-shirt, I melt into his strong body as he holds me tight against him.
Everything about this feels right.
“I love you, Hurricane. And I meant what I said. You mean everything to me.”
There’s a bright flash, followed by the sound of clapping. I pull away slightly and glance at the circle of guys around us.
Callum, Bennett, Morrison. Even Ford, his lips curving into a smug smile.
“Love looks good on you, Weston.” Callum claps Weston on the back and shoots me a shy smile. “Congrats, you two.”
“Yeah, congrats, Cap,” Morrison says, with Ford right behind.
Members of the team file by, offering their congratulations and saying nice things about me and my work.
The entire time, Weston’s arms hold me close, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He leans in and gives me another long kiss and my heart soars.
“Okay, okay, break it up.” Bennett nudges Weston. “We get it, you’re officially the Crushers hottest PR nightmare—and our favorite power couple. Want me to post this photo with a hashtag?” He wiggles his brows. “#SteeletheDeal?”