37. Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
We reached a central area fitted out with several chairs, a table and an administrative assistant with terror in her eyes. She rose as Millsy approached. “Ms. Pendleton.”
“Morning, Susan. I can show myself in.”
“But, Ms. Pendleton, he’s having a meeting and specifically said he was not to be interrupted.” She ended on a high note, the panic in her voice matching the terror in her eyes.
“Smashing! This is the best meeting-crashing suit I own.”
Susan moved to block our path, but in a juke that would make the best skater proud, Millsy passed her and flung open the double doors.
I barreled through the doors right beside her, my tulle skirt swirling around me like a weaponized cloud of sunshine.
I would not be ignored. I would not be dismissed without even a fare-thee-well!
“Morning, Granddad!” Millsy called, all effortless confidence as she made a beeline for the sideboard.
She poured herself a coffee with the kind of slow, deliberate flair that belonged in a black-and-white film—elegant, dramatic, impossible to rush.
“You should have told me you were driving down this morning! We could have saved time in the carpool lane.”
JT Pendleton, a thundercloud wrapped in an expensive charcoal suit, threw his pen down and glared at his granddaughter. “Miller, what do you think you’re doing here?”
Millsy lowered her cup with a dainty clink, then leaned in with a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Well, now, I heard you’d called a meeting about the situation. Naturally, I cleared my schedule and shot down here like an alley cat with her tail on fire.”
The deep grooves that lined his face quivered. “You have no part in this—”
“But my client, Meredith Wylie, has all sorts of parts in this,” she cut in, all saccharine-sweet steel.
“She’s the video coach. The employee. The trailblazing woman in a dinosaur sport.
And, let’s not forget, the victim of unfair treatment and potential discrimination.
” She tapped a manicured nail against her cup, thoughtful.
“I’m partial to ‘inequitable treatment’ as the opening to our press conference.
What do you think? Catchy, right? You’ve always had a way with words, Granddad—I’m open to suggestions. ”
JT Pendleton exhaled a long breath as if Millsy danced on his last thread of patience. “I don’t have time for your games, Miller. You have work to do at home. Get out of here.”
“I am working. Your meeting concerns my client. And with all due respect, sir, I intend to ensure she’s treated fairly.” Millsy smiled, all teeth.
I didn’t know the situation between Millsy and her grandfather, but the idea of being the cause of discord between them ripped into my conscience.
“Mr. Pendleton,” I called out, forcing my voice to hold steady.
“This is my career, my future you’re discussing and, respectfully, I’d appreciate the opportunity to argue my case. ”
Across the table, Shep sat rigid, his jaw tight, eyes locked on me.
The sight of him—his warrior’s frame clad in a perfectly tailored navy suit—sent a pulse of awareness through me.
When the corner of his lips kicked up, a tiny flame flared to life inside me.
Because I knew what that smirk meant. He still had some explaining to do, but that smirk was a reminder that I wasn’t alone. Not by a long shot.
“Ms. Wylie.” One of the men at the table barely spared me a glance. “There’s no argument to be made. You signed a contract. You violated that contract. End of story.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I guess everyone’s seen the video, so no, I can’t argue it wasn’t me. But I’m more than one mistake—”
“You knowingly violated a company policy prohibiting fraternization between employees.”
Millsy hauled one of the big chairs back from the table and flopped into it with a loud thwump. “That policy is archaic. And inconsistently enforced. But that’s besides the point as far as my client is concerned.”
Mr. Pendleton’s knuckles banged against the tabletop. “Millsy, you have three seconds to clear out of here—”
The double doors swept open again before I could drop into the chair beside Millsy.
Jasper Pendleton strode in, his bespoke suit a ruthless blend of navy and pewter pinstripes.
His shrewd gaze skated over the occupants of the room before he sank into the end chair opposite his grandfather.
Melani Tremblay perched behind his shoulder, her eyes darting around the room, looking more flustered than I’d ever seen the PR head.
“Apologies for the interruption, Grandfather. Please continue.” Jasper’s voice was smooth, measured. A man who knew the outcome before the game began.
The suit to Shep’s left tapped the corner of his phone against the mahogany table.
“My client is prepared to waive the no-move clause in his contract,” he said, his gaze fixed on the younger Mr. Pendleton.
“Provided Coach Wylie is allowed to continue in her current position and that this incident is struck from her employment record.”
My breath snagged deep in my chest and for a moment, the room tipped sideways as my thoughts spun.
Shep was offering to leave the Renegades?
To give up his dream, his team, his home?
A lump rose in my throat, thick with a storm of emotions I couldn’t name fast enough.
Gratitude. Terror. A gut-wrenching ache that nearly stole my ability to think.
Millsy rocked back in her chair, sending it into a lazy swing, the rhythmic creak stretching through the silence.
Then she grinned, slow and knowing. “Let me get this right,” she drawled.
“Our top scorer, local hero, future captain and a first-ballot Hall of Famer is offering to walk? To win a Cup for another team? All to protect Coach Wylie?”
The tension in the room turned razor-sharp.
Another suit interjected before anyone could respond.
“Mr. Landon has no cause for concern.” His voice held the bland arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for anything.
“Obviously, his value to the organization is unquestioned. Trading him would have a significant adverse impact on the team’s performance.
Whereas Ms. Wylie’s role is more easily replaced and less critical to the team’s success. ”
My nails dug into my palms. Less critical. As if I hadn’t poured my entire life into this job. As if everything I’d built could be erased with a stroke of a pen.
I swallowed the burn in my throat and lifted my chin. They wanted to make me small. Expendable.
They had no idea who they were dealing with.
“She’s Coach Wylie.”
The quiet steel in Shep’s voice cut through the room like a blade. My head snapped toward him.