Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
MIA
The air in the hallway feels too thick to breathe, the air con is emitting a weird stale kind of smell and it catches in my throat.
My palms are sweating, even though the rest of me is ice cold, and my nerves crackle in my veins like an electric current.
The second the door closes behind me, I almost double over.
I saw him. Just for a second. Dylan, sitting in that chair, looking like he’d been gutted and stitched back together too tight.
And now I’m next.
Jonno’s waiting for me in the small adjoining meeting room. He gives me a tight nod; there’s no smile, no warmth, but no anger either. Just that calm, steady presence I’ve come to rely on when everything else is burning.
“Take a seat,” he says, his voice low. “They’ll join us in a minute.”
My knees bounce in the chair making the table vibrate. I can’t stop them. I should be composed, should be prepared. I’ve gone over this a hundred times in my head. But it’s different now. Now they know. Now we’re not talking about if this all blows up. We’re already standing in the ash.
The door opens and Mike enters, followed by Coach. Neither of them looks surprised to see me. Just tired. Resigned even. Like they’ve been dreading this as much as I have.
“Thanks for waiting,” Mike says, settling into the seat across from me. Coach stands behind him, arms crossed. Watching.
Jonno closes the door, then leans against the back wall, arms folded.
“We’ll get right into it,” Mike says, placing a folder in front of him. “I trust you’re aware of the situation.”
“I am,” I say. My voice is even. “You’ve spoken to Dylan already.”
Mike nods. “He told us the relationship is real. That it’s not casual. That it began after your professional responsibilities toward him ended.”
I sit up straighter. “That’s correct.”
“And before that?”
I meet his gaze. “Before that, it was complicated. There were feelings. But I kept my distance. I made sure everything remained professional. I have records of the sessions I cleared with Jonno, and you’ll see in the scheduling logs that Dylan was transferred to another physio before anything personal began. ”
Coach mutters something under his breath. I ignore it.
Mike opens the folder. “We’ve also received a formal complaint from a teammate.”
“Danny,” I say before he can. “I figured.”
Jonno shifts slightly at the mention, but Mike doesn’t react. “He alleges preferential treatment, that you fast-tracked Dylan’s rehab or gave him an advantage on the roster.”
“That’s categorically false,” I say, sharper than I mean to.
“If anything, I was harder on Dylan. I kept him off the ice longer than he wanted. I made him prove himself in every test before I cleared him. He worked his arse off.” Coach flinches, but Mike stays still.
“I didn’t compromise my ethics. I wouldn’t ever do that; I’ve worked too hard to get here.
I’m not going to throw away my career.” I add, softer now.
There’s a long silence before Jonno finally speaks. “I backed her decision every step of the way. I reviewed her notes. If there’d been anything inappropriate, I would’ve flagged it.”
Mike turns a page. “And what about now, Mia? You still think this relationship is worth risking your job over?”
The question lands like a punch and I swallow hard. I think of Dylan’s face when the door opened. The way his eyes burned with something bigger than fear. Love. And guilt. And fury. All tangled up.
“Yes,” I say, my voice clear. “I do.”
Coach steps forward. “You understand what this could mean? For you? For him?”
“I do,” I say again.
“And you still don’t regret it?”
“No,” I say. “Because it’s real. It’s not a fling. It’s not a mistake. And I know how it looks, but we’ve tried everything we could to keep it separate from our work lives. We weren’t flaunting it.”
Mike’s expression hardens. “There are photos of the two of you kissing at a public beach.”
“I didn’t know we were being photographed,” I snap. “We weren’t trying to be reckless. We just wanted one day. One day to feel normal. Those photos were not taken at the rink, we weren’t at work. We were having a day out together, in our personal time.”
Coach lets out a long breath, like he’s holding back something stronger.
“We haven’t made any decisions yet,” Mike says. “But if this escalates, the club will have to protect itself. That may mean disciplinary action. Or termination of your contract.”
“I understand.” My voice wavers now, but I don’t back down.
Mike closes the folder. “You’ll be informed by end of week.”
The meeting ends with no ceremony. No handshake. No comfort. Jonno doesn’t say anything, but as the others filter out, he lingers.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, though I’m not.
“Dylan said it’s real,” he says. “Don’t make him a liar.”
My chest pulls tight. “I won’t.”
He nods and leaves me sitting there, staring at the closed folder.
I find Dylan waiting in the corridor outside, slouched on the bench like he’s been sitting there for hours.
He stands the second he sees me. “You okay?”
I don’t answer. I just walk into his arms. He holds me like he thinks someone’s about to rip me away from him. And maybe they are. “They haven’t made a decision,” I whisper. “But they might. They will.”
He pulls back to look at me. “I told them I loved you.”
My breath catches. “You did?”
“Yeah,” he says, brushing a hand over my cheek. “Loud and clear. I said I’d do it all again.”
My heart aches. “Even if I lose my job?”
“I don’t care. I’ll leave with you if I have to.”
“You’d leave the team?”
“I’d do whatever it takes.”
I press my forehead to his. “I don’t want to be the reason you walk away from hockey.”
“You’re not.” He kisses my temple. “But you’re the reason I’d be okay if I did.”
I choke on a laugh that’s more sob than anything. “You’re so bloody annoying when you’re noble.”
He grins, tired. “Don’t get used to it.”
And even in the thick of all this chaos, this fear, I believe him. This is the storm. And I’m not standing in it alone anymore.