Chapter 31 Roman
ROMAN
Five days since Marnie’s mom died and she’s a ghost in my apartment.
She’s here physically—on the couch, in my bed, eating the food I put in front of her—but she’s not really present. Just going through motions.
Funeral home appointments. Paperwork. Staring at her phone without seeing it.
I don’t know how to help someone through grief because I’m still submersed in my own. Don’t know if there even is a way to help, or if you just have to stand there and watch them drown.
My phone buzzes while I’m making coffee she probably won’t drink.
Jake
Barrett’s office. Now. It’s Winters.
Everything goes still.
“I need to go to the facility,” I tell Marnie.
She’s wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her mom’s wedding ring still on her thumb.
“It’ll take an hour, maybe less. You okay?”
“Fine.” The same flat tone she’s used for days.
She’s not fine. We both know it.
But I kiss her forehead and leave anyway because of course Winters is doing this while she’s out.
Barrett’s standing by his window when I walk in, hands in his pockets.
“Close the door.”
I do, sinking into the chair across from his desk.
“Winters filed formal complaints with HR yesterday,” Barrett says without preamble. “Against Dr. Walker. Fraternization affecting medical judgment, inappropriate relationship with a player, professional misconduct.” He turns to face me. “He’s going for her job.”
The rage hits clean and cold. “While she’s on bereavement leave.”
“Yeah. He waited until she couldn’t defend herself. Knew exactly what he was doing.” Barrett’s expression is grim. “HR called me in this morning. Asked about your recovery timeline, the Rodriguez situation, whether I’d observed any inappropriate behavior.”
“And?”
“And I told them her medical decisions have been sound. That your recovery followed standard protocol. That the Rodriguez call was correct and Winters was out of line pushing back.” He pauses. “Then I told them about the evidence you gave me last week.”
My hands tighten on the chair arms. “What did they say?”
“They’re investigating both complaints. Hers and his.” Barrett sits on the edge of his desk. “As of an hour ago, Winters was placed on administrative leave pending the investigation. He was escorted from the building.”
The relief is sharp enough to hurt.
“And Marnie?”
“HR will want to interview her when she’s back.
Review all the medical documentation. But Roman—” He meets my eyes.
“The preliminary assessment is that Winters’ complaints don’t hold water.
Your session counts were medically appropriate.
Rodriguez’s timeline followed standard protocol.
The relationship isn’t a policy violation. ”
“So she’s clear.”
“Pending the formal investigation, yes. But you can’t give her details yet.
HR has to handle this by the book.” He crosses his arms. “You can tell her Winters is on leave. You can tell her there’s an investigation.
But the specifics of what evidence was presented and why—that stays confidential until HR talks to her directly. ”
I nod slowly, already thinking about how I’m going to explain this without revealing everything I’ve been doing.
“The evidence you gave me,” Barrett continues. “The players, the medical records, the pattern of negligence—that’s what sealed it. HR saw that and understood exactly what kind of liability Winters represents.”
“How long until they make a final decision?”
“Couple weeks, maybe. They’ll interview everyone, review all the documentation, make sure it’s airtight.” He studies me. “But between you and me? Winters is done. What you compiled was damning. He’s not coming back.”
I should feel triumphant. Instead I just feel tired.
“Does she know?” Barrett asks. “About what you’ve been building?”
“No.”
“She’s going to find out. When HR interviews her, when they explain what evidence they reviewed—she’ll figure it out.”
“I know.”
“And she’s going to be pissed you kept it from her.”
“Probably.” I stand. “But she’ll be employed and Winters will be gone. I can live with her being pissed.”
Barrett shakes his head slightly. “Good luck with that.”
The problem is that there’s no way to explain Winters being on leave without her asking questions I can’t answer yet.
And if I tell her about the investigation, she’ll want to know why Winters was removed so quickly. What evidence was so compelling that HR acted immediately.
And then I’ll have to admit I’ve been building a case against him for weeks. While her mom was dying. While she was falling apart.
That I kept it from her because I thought I was protecting her, when really I was just making decisions about her career without asking what she wanted.
But it’s too late to take it back now.
The evidence is submitted. The investigation is in motion.
All I can do is tell her what I’m allowed to tell her and hope she understands why I had to do it this way.
Marnie’s exactly where I left her when I get home.
Same position on the couch. Same blank expression. Same wedding ring turning slowly on her thumb.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” She doesn’t look up. “Everything okay?”
I sit beside her, trying to find the right words. There probably aren’t right words for this.
“There was a meeting today. About Winters.”
That gets her attention. Her eyes find mine, suddenly focused.
“What kind of meeting?”
“He filed formal complaints. With HR.” I take her hand, feel how cold her fingers are. “Against you.”
She goes very still. “What?”
“Fraternization affecting medical judgment. Claims your relationship with me compromised your professional decisions. The Rodriguez situation, my recovery timeline—he’s using all of it.”
Her face has gone pale. “When did he file?”
“Yesterday.”
“While I was—” She stops. “He waited until I was out dealing with my mom’s funeral.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s—” Her voice shakes. “God, he really hates me.”
“He’s scared of you. There’s a difference.” I squeeze her hand. “But Marnie, you need to hear the rest.”
She looks at me, eyes wide and terrified.
“They put Winters on admin leave. He’s being investigated too.”
Her breath catches. “For what?”
“I don’t have all the details. They just said there are concerns about his medical practices that need to be reviewed.
” I hate that I’m lying, but Barrett was clear—I can’t tell her about the evidence yet.
“The investigation is going to cover both complaints. His against you, and whatever they’re looking into with him. ”
“How long?”
“Week or two. They’ll want to interview you when you’re back from leave. Review all your documentation.” I pull her against my chest. “But Marnie, Barrett said your medical decisions were sound. You followed protocol. The relationship isn’t a policy violation.”
She’s shaking now. “But there’s still an investigation.”
“HR has to do it properly. But Barrett said you’re going to be fine.”
“How can he know that?”
Because I gave him evidence that will destroy Winters’ career. Because I’ve been building this case for weeks and the medical records speak for themselves. Because I made sure Winters couldn’t touch you.
But I can’t say any of that.
“Because you’re the best PT this team has ever had and everyone knows it,” I say instead.
“What happens now?” she asks quietly.
“Now you focus on getting through the next week. HR will reach out when they’re ready to interview you. Until then, you’re on bereavement leave. You don’t have to think about any of this.”
“How can I not think about it? Winters is trying to destroy my career.”
“And he’s going to fail.” I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me. “Trust me. This is going to be okay.”
She searches my face, trying to find the truth in my words. Trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
“You sound very confident about that.”
“I am confident. Your work speaks for itself.”
“But how did Winters end up on leave so fast? HR investigations usually take time. They don’t just put someone on administrative leave immediately unless—” She stops. “Unless there’s evidence of something serious.”
My stomach drops.
“Marnie—”
“What evidence, Roman?” Her voice is quiet but sharp. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I could lie. Could deflect. Could tell her I don’t know any more than she does.
But I’m tired of lying to her. Tired of making decisions for her. Tired of pretending I’m protecting her when I’m really just not trusting her to handle things herself.
“I gave Barrett documents,” I say. “Against Winters. Medical records from former players showing a pattern of negligence.”
“What players?”
“Ones he rushed back too early. All developed complications.” I watch her face carefully. “I compiled everything—medical records, testimony, timeline analysis. Gave it to Barrett last week. Told him to keep it ready in case Winters made a move.”
“You’ve been investigating Winters.” Not a question. Her voice is flat.
“Building a case, yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since November.”
She pulls away from me, stands up. “Since November. You’ve been investigating my boss since November and you didn’t tell me.”
“You were dealing with your mom—”
“So you decided to handle it yourself?” Now her voice rises. “To build this whole case, give it to Barrett, set up whatever’s happening now—all without telling me?”
“I was trying to protect you from additional stress—”
“That wasn’t your choice to make!” She’s shaking, tears starting to stream down her face. “Do you have any idea how terrified I’ve been? Watching Winters document everything, knowing he was building something, feeling like my entire career was hanging by a thread?”
“That’s why I did this. So you wouldn’t have to be scared anymore.”
“And it never occurred to you to tell me?” Her voice cracks. “To trust me with information about my own life? My own career?”
“I didn’t want to add to what you were already dealing with—”
“My mom was dying, Roman. She was dying and I was watching it happen and you thought the right move was to keep secrets? To make decisions about my professional life without even consulting me?”
“I should have told you,” I say. “I know that. But I was watching you fall apart and I just wanted to fix one thing. To make one thing better.”
“By taking away my agency?” She wraps her arms around herself. “By treating me like I needed to be protected instead of informed?”
“I was trying to help.”
“You were trying to control the situation. There’s a difference.” She moves toward the bedroom, toward her bag. “I need space. Real space.”
“Marnie, don’t—”
“I’m going to my apartment.” She’s pulling clothes out of the dresser with shaking hands. “I need to process my mom dying and Winters trying to destroy me and you lying to me for weeks. And I can’t do that with you here trying to fix everything.”
“I wasn’t lying—”
“You were keeping things from me. Same thing.” She shoves clothes into her bag.
“I know you thought you were helping. I know you were trying to protect me. But you made decisions about my career without telling me. Built a case that’s now part of an HR investigation—an investigation about me—and I had no idea any of it was happening. ”
Her bag is packed now. She’s crying openly, grief and fury mixing.
“I love you,” she says, voice thick with tears. “But I’m also really angry. And I need time to figure out which one matters more right now.”
“How long?” The question comes out rougher than I intended.
“I don’t know. A few days. A week.” She picks up her bag. “However long it takes to figure out if I can trust you.”
Then she’s gone.
I stand in my apartment surrounded by evidence of her—coffee mug in the sink, blanket on the couch, her presence in every room—and realize I just destroyed Winters and lost Marnie in the same day.
Brody
Heard what happened. You okay?
Me: Winters is on leave. Marnie left.
Brody
Left-left or needs-space left?
Me: She’s pissed I kept the investigation from her.
Brody
Yeah. That was stupid.
Me: I was protecting her.
Brody
Ask me how I know that doesn’t go over well with women.
He’s right, obviously, even though I hate to admit it.
I built this case, made these choices, submitted evidence that’s now part of an official investigation—all without asking Marnie what she wanted.
Told myself it was protection when really I just didn’t trust her to handle it.
The victory over Winters feels hollow as hell when Marnie’s not here to share it.