18. Dax
DAX
I 'm in the middle of explaining to Kevin why his dating advice is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine when my phone explodes with texts that make my blood turn to fucking ice.
Chen
Emergency. Harrison's office. NOW.
Martinez
Get to admin wing. Tessa needs you.
Torres
Dude where the fuck are you? This is bad.
"Shit." I'm already moving, leaving Kevin mid-sentence about some girl from his marketing class. "Something's wrong with Tessa."
The walk to Harrison's office feels like skating through quicksand while my brain conjures every possible nightmare scenario.
But nothing prepares me for what I see when I round the corner: Tessa standing outside Harrison's office with a security guard at her elbow, holding a cardboard box like it contains the ashes of her career.
Her face is pale but composed, that professional mask firmly in place even though I can see the devastation in her hazel eyes. She's wearing the navy blazer that makes her look untouchable and competent, but her hands are shaking slightly as she grips the box.
"What the hell is going on?" I demand, loud enough that half the administrative wing probably hears me.
The security guard actually has the balls to step between us. "Sir, you need to?—"
"I need to what?" I'm close enough now that I can see Tessa's been crying, and the protective rage that floods through me is so intense I'm surprised I don't spontaneously combust. "Get the fuck away from her."
"Dax." Tessa's voice is steady, but I catch the tremor underneath. "It's okay."
"No, it's really fucking not okay." I look at the security guard like he's something I'd scrape off my skate. "What's in the box?"
"Her personal belongings," the guard says with all the personality of wet cardboard. "Ms. Bennett has one hour to clear out her office and surrender her building access."
"One hour?" The words come out like a growl. "For what?"
That's when Harrison appears in his doorway wearing the kind of smile that makes me want to introduce his face to my fist. "Mr. Kingston. Perfect timing."
"Harrison." I don't try to hide the contempt in my voice. "What the fuck did you do?"
"I terminated Dr. Bennett's employment for policy violations. I thought you might be interested to know that your Boston deadline has been moved up."
My stomach drops like I just took a slap shot to the gut. "What?"
"Midnight tonight. The Bruins need an answer, and given the current... complications... I thought you might want to expedite your decision."
I look between Harrison's smug face and Tessa's carefully blank expression, and suddenly everything clicks into place. This isn't about policy violations or professional standards. This is about Harrison forcing my hand.
"You son of a bitch."
"Now, Mr. Kingston, there's no need for?—"
"If you fire her, I quit." The words are out before I've fully processed them, but the moment I say them, I know they're true. "Tonight. Right fucking now. You can explain to the board why you lost your star defenseman during playoff season."
Harrison's smile falters slightly. "I don't think you're in a position to make threats."
"It's not a threat. It's a promise." I take a step closer, letting him see exactly how serious I am. "Fire her, and I walk. Try to destroy her reputation, and I'll make sure every sports journalist in the country knows exactly what kind of manager you are."
"You're willing to throw away your entire career for her?"
"In a fucking heartbeat."
The silence stretches between us like a live wire. I can feel Tessa staring at me, but I don't look away from Harrison's face. I want him to see that I'm not bluffing.
"Midnight, Mr. Kingston," Harrison says finally. "Boston won't wait longer than that."
"Go fuck yourself, Harrison."
I turn to Tessa, whose professional mask has cracked completely. "Come on. Let's get your stuff."
"Dax, you can't?—"
"Watch me." I take the box from her hands, noting how her fingers tremble slightly when they brush mine.
She leads me down the hallway in silence, the security guard trailing behind us like some kind of corporate undertaker. Her office is organized, efficient, with personal touches that make it feel warm despite the institutional furniture.
"I can't believe you just did that," she says quietly, pulling files from her desk drawer.
"Which part? Telling Harrison to go fuck himself, or threatening to quit?"
"Both. All of it. You can't throw away Boston because of me."
"I can do whatever the fuck I want. It's my career."
"Dax—"
"No." I catch her wrist gently, making her look at me. "Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't sacrifice for you. Don't you dare minimize what you're worth."
"It's Boston. Your childhood dream team."
"You're my everything." The words come out rougher than I intended, but I mean every syllable. "Dreams change, Tessa. This—us—is worth more than any contract they could offer me."
She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes filling with tears she's too stubborn to let fall. "You're going to make me cry in front of corporate security."
"Fuck corporate security." But I lower my voice anyway. "We're going to fight this. Both of us. Together."
"How?"
Before I can answer, my phone starts buzzing nonstop. I glance at it and see messages flooding in from teammates.
Jamie
Team meeting. Locker room. 5 minutes. Everyone's pissed.
Chen
This is bullshit. We're not standing for this.
Martinez
Board's been notified. Harrison fucked up.
Kevin
Doc Bennett helped me through panic attacks. We got her back.
I show Tessa the screen. "That's how."
For the first time since I found her in the hallway, she actually smiles. "Your teammates are texting about me."
"My teammates love you. The whole organization loves you except for one miserable asshole who's about to learn what happens when you mess with family."
"Family?"
"You're part of the team, Tessa. That makes you family. And we protect family."
The security guard clears his throat. "Ms. Bennett, you have thirty minutes remaining."
"We're almost done," I tell him, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Tessa finishes packing while I load her personal items into the box—framed photos of her and her mother, the vintage psychology textbooks she collects, a small plant that somehow makes everything else look more human.
"Ready?" I ask when she's gathered the last of her files.
"No. But let's go anyway."
We walk out of her office together, and I can't help but notice how she keeps her head high despite everything. Professional to the end, refusing to give Harrison the satisfaction of seeing her broken.
"Dr. Bennett," the security guard says as we reach the building exit. "I need your building pass and parking pass."
She hands them over without a word, and I watch her access to this place—to the life we've built together—disappear into some corporate filing system.
"This isn't over," I tell her as we reach my truck.
"Isn't it?"
"Not even close." I load her box into the passenger seat and turn to face her. "Harrison thinks he can force me to choose between you and hockey. What he doesn't realize is that choice is easy."
"Dax—"
"I choose you, Tessa. Every fucking time. Boston can kiss my ass."
She launches herself at me then, and I catch her against my chest, holding her tight while she finally lets herself fall apart a little.
"We're going to burn his world down," I murmur against her hair.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
My phone buzzes with another text from Jamie:
Team meeting now. Bring Tessa. We're going to war.
I show her the message. "Ready to see what happens when you mess with a hockey family?"
She looks up at me with those gold-flecked eyes, and for the first time today, she looks fierce instead of defeated.
"Let's fucking go."
The locker room feels like a war council when we walk in. Every single player is there, from the rookies who usually keep their mouths shut to the veterans who've seen every kind of organizational bullshit imaginable. The energy is electric, angry, and completely focused.
"There they are," Jamie announces, jumping up from where he's been holding court near the center benches. "Dr. Bennett, we need to talk."
"It's just Tessa now," she says quietly. "I don't work here anymore."
"Like hell," growls Zack, our left wing who's built like a brick shithouse and has the vocabulary to match. "You're part of this team. Harrison can't just erase that with some corporate paperwork."
"Zack is right," Chen adds, looking up from his laptop. "I've been researching wrongful termination law. Harrison is on shaky legal ground, especially if we can prove this was retaliation."
"It was definitely retaliation," I say, settling Tessa onto a bench between me and Jamie. "He moved up my Boston deadline to midnight tonight. Trying to force me to choose."
"What a fucking coward," spits Torres. "Can't handle that his star player found someone who makes him happy."
"So what's the plan?" asks Kevin. "Because I'm not playing for a manager who treats people like shit."
Jamie grins, and I recognize that look. It's the same expression he gets right before he scores a goal that shouldn't be possible. "Funny you should ask. We voted."
"Voted on what?"
"Unanimous team decision. If Harrison's still here after the board meeting tomorrow, we're going on strike. Refuse to practice, refuse to play, refuse to do media. Complete shutdown."
Tessa's eyes widen. "You can't do that. You'll lose everything."
"No," says Zack firmly. "We'll lose hockey games. You lost your career because some asshole couldn't handle that women can be both brilliant and beautiful. There's a difference."
"The union is backing us too," Chen adds. "I called the player rep. Harrison's violated so many protocols with his little surveillance operation that they're chomping at the bit to make an example."
My phone rings, and when I see "Ma" on the screen, I almost ignore it. But something makes me answer.
"Hey, Ma."