Chapter 35 Marnie
MARNIE
The HR office is on the third floor of the facility, in a part of the building I’ve only been to twice—once when I was hired, once for annual compliance training.
The door opens and a woman in her forties with dark hair pulled back appears.
“Dr. Walker? I’m Claire Hirsch, Director of Human Resources. Come on in.”
The office is small but professional. Two chairs across from her desk, a window overlooking the practice rink.
She gestures to one of the chairs and I sit, hands folded in my lap to keep them from shaking.
“Thank you for coming in,” Claire says, settling behind her desk. “I know this has been a difficult time. My condolences on your mother’s passing.”
“Thank you.”
She opens a thick folder on her desk.
“I’ll get straight to it. Dr. Winters filed formal complaints alleging that your relationship with Roman Varga compromised your medical judgment and that you demonstrated insubordination regarding another player’s treatment. These are serious allegations.”
My stomach drops but I keep my voice steady. “I’m aware.”
“Walk me through your treatment plan for Captain Varga’s shoulder injury. Specifically, why you recommended twelve weeks when Dr. Winters felt six was sufficient.”
I take a breath.
“It was a grade two AC separation. The standard protocol is eight to twelve weeks before return to contact sports. I kept him at twelve because of his history with shoulder injuries and because rushing back risks chronic instability that could end a career.”
“But Dr. Winters is the senior physician. Why did you feel comfortable overriding his recommendation?”
“I didn’t override him. I gave my professional opinion as the treating physical therapist. The final clearance decision is collaborative, but I wasn’t going to sign off on something medically unsound.”
Claire makes a note.
“When did your relationship with Roman begin?”
“We met when I interviewed for this position in July. He dislocated his shoulder during practice and I reset it on the ice. That was our first interaction.” I pause.
“Attraction developed over the weeks I was treating him, but nothing happened until much later, after his medical treatment was complete.”
“So you were attracted to your patient during his treatment.”
The way she says it makes it sound dirty.
“I was aware of a mutual attraction between us, yes. Which is why I documented everything extensively and followed protocol exactly. I wasn’t going to compromise his care or my professional standing.”
“But you did begin a relationship with him.”
“After his treatment was complete. After he was cleared to play. After the professional boundary was no longer compromised.”
She taps her pen against her notebook, considering the file sitting open in front of her.
“Tell me about the Rodriguez situation.”
I explain the MCL injury, Winters pushing for a much shorter clearance, my refusal to sign off on it. The meeting where he tried to override my medical judgment.
“Dr. Winters characterized your behavior as insubordination and unprofessional.”
“I would characterize it as practicing medicine responsibly.” My voice is harder now. “Rodriguez had a grade two MCL sprain. Two weeks isn’t enough healing time. Clearing him early would have risked a complete tear and potentially ended his career. That’s not insubordination—that’s doing my job.”
“Even when your superior tells you otherwise?”
“When my superior is wrong, yes.”
Claire’s expression doesn’t change. She closes the folder and stands.
“I need to get Coach Barrett. I’ll be right back.”
She leaves and I sit there, heart pounding, wondering if I just talked myself out of a job.
When the door opens again, Barrett walks in behind Claire.
He nods at me but doesn’t smile.
“Dr. Walker,” he says, taking the other chair.
Claire sits back down. “Coach Barrett has been involved in this investigation from the beginning. I wanted him present for this part.”
I look between them, trying to read their expressions. Barrett’s face gives nothing away.
“During our investigation,” Claire continues, “we received extensive documentation regarding Dr. Winters’ medical practices over the past five years.
Three former players provided testimony and medical records showing they were rushed back from injuries prematurely, all of which resulted in complications. ”
My breath catches.
“The documentation was thorough,” Barrett adds. “Medical records, timeline analyses, communications between Winters and coaching staff. It showed a pattern of prioritizing roster availability over player health.”
Claire pulls out a single sheet from the folder.
“As of yesterday afternoon, Dr. Winters’ employment with this organization has been terminated for medical negligence and professional misconduct.”
The relief hits so hard I actually close my eyes for a second.
“As for the complaints against you,” she continues, “we found no evidence of compromised medical judgment. Your documentation is exemplary. Your treatment decisions were sound and followed accepted protocols. Your session counts with Captain Varga were appropriate for the injury severity.”
“You’re cleared,” Barrett says. “Completely.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
“I want to be clear,” Claire says, her voice softening slightly.
“Your romantic relationship isn’t a policy violation.
We don’t prohibit relationships between staff and players.
However, going forward, if you’re treating him for injuries, we’ll need documented oversight.
Just standard practice for situations like this. ”
I nod, still trying to process.
Barrett leans forward. “I also want to apologize, on behalf of the organization, for what you’ve been put through. Winters filed his complaints while you were on bereavement leave, which was—” He stops. “It was unconscionable. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this while grieving your mother.”
Something in my chest cracks.
“Thank you.”
“You’re scheduled to return Monday,” Claire says. “We’re glad to have you back.”
The tears start as I get to my car.
Not sad tears. Not scared tears. Just release.
Weeks of tension finally letting go.
I sit in the driver’s seat crying into my hands, and I don’t even care.
Winters is gone. I’m cleared. It’s over.
I pull out my phone once I can see straight enough to type.
Interview’s done. I’m cleared. Winters is terminated.
Roman
Are you okay?
Yeah. Surprisingly okay. Coming home now.
Roman
I’m here.
Roman’s waiting by the door when I walk in.
He takes one look at my face, probably red and blotchy from crying, and opens his arms.
I walk into them and just stand there, letting him hold me while I catch my breath.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah.” I turn my head up to him. “Barrett apologized. For the timing. For Winters filing while I was on leave.”
“He should.”
“They told me about the documentation. Three former players.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a lot of people he hurt.”
“It is.” Roman’s hands settle at my waist. “But he can’t hurt anyone else now.”
I nod, still processing. “I go back to work Monday.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Terrified. Relieved. Ready.” I pause, considering. “Mostly ready.”
“You’ll be great.”
“I know.” I manage a small smile. “Professional boundaries during work hours.”
“And very unprofessional boundaries after.”
“Definitely.”
We stand there for a moment, just holding each other. The weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.
“So,” Roman says eventually. “The team’s having a party tonight.”
“A party?”
“We won Thursday’s game against Vancouver. Dex is hosting at his place.” He pauses. “They’re celebrating the win. But I think they’ll want to celebrate this too. If you want to go.”
I think about it. About facing the team. About people knowing what happened. About having to smile and be social when I’m emotionally wrung out.
But also about being part of something again. About not hiding anymore.
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“You sure?”
“No. But I want to anyway.”
He kisses my forehead. “That’s good enough.”
“What time?”
“Seven. But we don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to.”
“Okay.” I lean against his chest. “Can we just sit here for a while first? Before we have to be around people?”
“We can do whatever you want.”
So we move to the couch and I curl against his side and we sit in silence while the afternoon light fades.
Not talking. Not processing. Just existing in the same space, in the relief that the worst is finally over.
Winters is gone. I’m cleared. Roman’s in therapy. My mom is still dead and his brother is still gone and neither of those things will ever change.
But maybe we’ll be okay anyway.
We sit there until the light outside turns golden, until Roman’s phone buzzes with texts from the team asking when we’re coming, until I finally feel ready to face people again.
“Alright,” I say, sitting up. “Let’s go celebrate.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He stands, pulls me up with him. “For the record, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone tonight.”
“I know. But I want to be there. I want—” I stop, trying to find the words. “I want to feel normal again. Even if it’s just for a few hours.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
I go change into something that doesn’t scream “I’ve been crying in my car” while Roman texts the team that we’re coming.
When I come back out, he’s by the door with his jacket on, keys in hand.
“Ready?” he asks.
I take a breath. “Ready.”
We walk out together into the winter evening, toward a party with people who know everything that happened and are celebrating anyway.
It’s not perfect. It’s not fixed.
But it’s something.