45 - Haven
HAVEN
The storm hadn’t exactly surrendered, but it loosened its grip enough that the world outside existed again. The sky was blue. The sun was shining — in places, at least. For the first time in days, we heard the distant hum of plows, clearing the roads.
All of which meant one thing: Mercer and the team would be coming.
Eventually, anyway.
I stood waist-deep in snow, shovel in hand, staring at what used to be a driveway.
“This is insane,” I muttered.
Beside me, Grayson drove his shovel down and heaved another load over his shoulder. The movement was clean. Efficient. Like everything else he did.
“You don’t have to stay out here,” he said.
“I know.”
We’d worked in silence for a while. The scrape of metal. The soft thud of snow, piling up. Our breath fogging in the cold air.
He hadn’t said much all morning. Not like the others. Not like last night.
Something was off.
I jabbed the shovel into the drift and leaned on it.
“You’re going to tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
He didn’t look at me.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Grayson.”
That got him. His jaw went a little tighter. Not much, but enough.
“You already know something’s wrong,” he said.
I held his gaze. Those cool gray eyes reflected the whole world.
“Then say it.”
A long pause stretched between us. Wind pushed across the yard, dragging loose snow with it. The world felt quieter than it should’ve been.
“I knew,” he said finally.
My stomach dropped.
“Knew what?”
Another pause.
“About Sutherland.”
For a second, I didn’t understand. Or maybe I did… I just didn’t want to admit it.
When I finally did, everything inside me went cold.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
I stood up straighter.
“You knew he was throwing games?”
“Yes.”
The word hit like a gut punch.
“And you just… what?” I snapped. “Let it happen?”
His eyes dropped for a moment, before returning to mine.
“I thought I could contain it.”
I laughed. It came out sharp.
“Contain it?”
“Keep it from blowing up,” he said. “Keep it from taking the whole team down with him.”
“That’s not your call.”
“It became my call the second I figured it out.”
My hands hurt from clenching the shovel so tightly.
“You should’ve said something.”
“And then what?” he shot back, finally losing that calm edge. “We expose him? You think that stops him?”
I didn’t answer. He stepped closer.
“Best case? He gets banned. Careers end. The league investigates everything. Every game. Every player.”
A beat.
“Worst case?” he continued. “We’re implicated. Season’s wiped. Everyone goes down with him.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“You let the whole team hang—”
“I protected us,” he interjected. “I forced him out.”
“That’s not protection, that’s—”
“Control,” he cut in.
The word landed heavily. It was an honest, ugly assessment.
But it was real.
“I thought I could manage it,” he continued, quieter now. “Keep it contained until he was gone.”
“And then Coach Trees got fired.”
His jaw flexed.
“Yeah.”
Anger flared from the pit of my stomach. Sharp and undeniable.
“You blamed me for Trees!” I cried. “When from the moment I got here, you already knew—”
“I didn’t know you weren’t involved,” he countered. “Not totally. You could’ve been in with management for all I knew.”
“But I wasn’t,” I shot back. “You know I would never—”
“I know that now,” he conceded. Then, more gently: “Of course I do.”
He looked down, dejectedly, at the piles of snow. For a long time, neither of us spoke. The silence was finally broken by the distant shoveling of Ares and Sebastian.
“You’re telling them,” I said.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah.”
Grayson picked up the shovel again. Turning back to the mountain of snow between us and the base of the driveway, he tore into it with all new energy.
I watched him work like a machine for a while, before veering off to widen the path to the house. I shoveled alone, turning over my thoughts. Trying to put myself in his shoes, or skates, or whatever.
He knew.
That part was ugly. What wasn’t ugly was that he’d taken the whole thing upon his shoulders. Tried to fix everything quietly, the only way a captain knew.
It was a hell of a lot to handle alone.
By mid-afternoon, we’d cleared the driveway enough for the team’s arrival. Which wouldn’t be until tomorrow, according to Mercer’s last less-than cheerful phone call.
By evening, I was mentally and physically exhausted.
Dinner was surprisingly good frozen pizza, excavated from the back of the freezer. It was quieter than it should’ve been. Sebastian filled the silence with jokes, but Ares didn’t bite. Grayson barely spoke at all.
I watched him.
Waited.
After we ate, we ended up in the living room. Lights low. Storm still dragging across what was left of the sky.
Sebastian grabbed the remote.
“What are we watching?” I asked him.
“Rocky Four.”
Ares snorted.
“Seriously?”
“Hey, do you want to explain to Mercer why we didn’t do our homework?”
Grayson didn’t react. Ares just sighed.
“Fine.”
The movie rolled, and we watched in silence. The run-up, the initial fight. The death of Apollo. Rocky flying to Russia, to battle his demons.
Every now and then I stole a glance at Grayson.
His expression told me he was battling a few demons of his own.
Eventually the training montage started. The guys leaned forward a little, even more invested.
“This is insane,” Sebastian said, as Rocky started sprinting through the snow.
“No,” I said. “This is peak performance.”
“He’s running up a mountain.”
“In Russia.”
“In the winter.”
“In the eighties,” Ares added sarcastically.
“Exactly,” I said.
They shook their heads.
“This is stupid,” said Ares.
“But he wins,” I pointed out.
“That doesn’t make it any less stupid.”
Sebastian pointed.
“No, no — look at this. He’s literally dragging logs.”
“Functional strength,” I said.
At long last, Grayson spoke. His voice was quiet.
“I knew.”
Everything stopped. The movie kept playing.
No one looked at it.
“What?” Sebastian asked.
Grayson didn’t move.
“I knew,” he repeated. “About Sutherland.”
The silence hit hard.
Ares turned slowly.
“You what?”
Grayson finally looked at him.
“I knew he was throwing games.”
The room shifted completely. It happened in the span of a heartbeat.
“You let this happen?” Ares demanded.
He wasn’t enraged, he wasn’t shouting. That only made it worse.
Grayson didn’t look away.
“I made a call.”
Ares stood up. He took a step forward.
“That wasn’t your call to make.”
“It was when I realized what exposing him would do.”
“What?” Ares snapped. “End his career?”
“No,” Grayson said flatly. “Destroy all of ours.”
The others looked on in disbelief.
“He wasn’t the only one who would’ve gone down,” he continued. “League investigation doesn’t stop at one player, it spreads.”
Sebastian leaned back slowly.
“You thought you were limiting the damage.”
Grayson nodded once.
“Yes.”
Ares shook his head.
“You protected him.”
“I forced him out,” Grayson replied. “I protected the team.”
“You gambled with us.”
“I calculated the risk.”
That set Ares off. He paced the room once. Twice.
Hands clenching and unclenching.
“You stood there and watched it happen!”
Grayson’s look was pained. Conflicted.
“I stood there, yes,” he admitted. “I had to make sure it didn’t take everything with it.”
The silence was heavy and real. It grew uglier with each passing second.
And in Ares’s storm-filled eyes: the anger. The logic.
The cascading realization.
“You let us think it was her!” he leveled an arm at me.
Grayson nodded solemnly.
“At one point I thought it was.”
Ares barked out a laugh. It wasn’t a good laugh.
“If Sutherland was throwing games,” Sebastian finally spoke, “someone was paying him.”
The fact was solid. Undeniable.
It also raised a thousand new questions.
“Which means,” he went on quietly, “someone wanted us losing.”
And there it was. The real problem.
Not Sutherland. Not Grayson.
Something bigger.
Something worse.
“Management.”
A slow realization crept in, settling over the room like the storm had earlier. Ares let out a short breath; something between a laugh and a curse.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Someone in management wanted us losing,” Sebastian said slowly. “Or at least, not winning.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Dunno.”
“Why?” Ares demanded.
Grayson finally looked up.
“Contracts. Draft position. Internal leverage. Could be anything.”
“That’s not hockey,” Ares snapped.
“No,” I said quietly. “It’s not. Which is why there’s something we very much need to do.”
“Bash skulls?” Ares said, balling a fist and driving it into his palm.
I shook my head slowly.
“Not yet.”
A beat.
“First… we take back everything they tried to steal from us.”
Silence settled in. Sharp and final.
I let my gaze move between them — Ares, still simmering, Sebastian, already thinking three steps ahead. Grayson… steady, but carrying it all.
“Then—” I added, a small but dangerous smile pulling at my lips.
“We win.”