Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
HALEY
Two days after the season opener, I stood in front of my closet at six in the morning, staring at clothes as if they were a tactical problem I couldn’t solve.
The blue blouse was professional. Safe. The kind of thing I wore when I wanted to disappear into the walls during team meetings. I pulled it out, held it against my chest, and immediately shoved it back. Too cowardly.
The green sweater made me look approachable. And it was soft. It made me look like someone who hadn’t been letting a player go down on her in a hotel gym while the rest of the team slept a few floors above.
Also wrong.
My hand landed on the cream-colored blouse with the small buttons down the front. I’d bought it a few years ago, and I’d always thought it made me look put-together. I’d also thought it made me look like myself instead of someone trying to disappear into the paneling.
That felt right.
I pulled it on, and stared at my reflection while running through scripts I’d been rehearsing since three in the morning when I’d given up on sleep.
“Dad, I’m seeing someone on the team.”
That sounded too clinical. I wasn’t reporting stats but confessing something that would gut him.
“Dad, I’m in love with Tolrek.”
Too blunt. He’d shut down before I could explain.
“Dad, I need you to trust me on this.”
That sounded defensive before he’d even spoken, as if I expected him to be against me. Although…I kind of did.
Nothing sounded right in my head.
My hands should be shaking, but they weren’t. I buttoned the cream blouse while my brain ran through catastrophic scenarios on loop. It was the same detachment I felt reviewing footage of a player’s career-ending injury, a clinical assessment layered over bone-deep dread.
The waiting was almost over. That’s what the calm was. It wasn’t peace. Just the knowledge that by tomorrow, everything would be different, and I wouldn’t have to keep holding my breath every time someone looked at us too long.
Tolrek’s sweatshirt lay over the back of a chair, the Purple Punishers logo standing out bright in the room.
He’d tucked it between my head and the bus window during the ride back from the first exhibition game when I’d fallen asleep.
I’d kept it instead of giving it back, and he hadn’t asked for it since.
I suspected he liked knowing I would wear something of his.
What we had was real and worth fighting for. Even if telling the world could mess everything up.
My phone sat on the nightstand. Picking it up, I opened a text to Tolrek and typed I love you.
I set the phone back down and finished getting dressed.
Later, I sat in the analyst room. I’d been pulling footage for the next opponent breakdown since seven thirty, tagging sequences and building the package my father would use in tomorrow’s team meeting.
Focusing on work kept my hands busy and my brain from spinning through worst-case scenarios.
The door opened.
“Morning,” I said without looking in that direction, assuming it was one of the assistant coaches coming to ask for a specific clip.
“Morning.”
I turned at Mark’s voice, finding him standing in the doorway, a coffee mug in hand. Something in his posture felt off.
“Good game last night,” he said, moving into the room. “That defensive breakdown you flagged was perfect. You must’ve seen that Crim used it in the third period to shut down their power play.”
“I did, and thanks.”
He took a sip of coffee and set the cup down on the table, tugging out a chair and sitting. “Can I say something?”
The pause that followed felt loaded.
“Off the record?” he added.
“Sure.”
Mark leaned back in his chair and studied my face before he sighed.
“I’m going to say this once, and then we’re never talking about it again.
Whatever’s happening with you and Nosh, and don’t insult my intelligence by pretending there’s nothing, you need to get ahead of it.
Because people are noticing, and when Jim finds out…
” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
My pulse pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. Playing dumb felt like the only option. “I don’t know what you mean. We work together. I’ve done tape sessions with him like I do with everyone—”
“Haley, I’ve worked in this building for years. I know what it looks like when two people are trying not to look at each other in the hallways.”
Silence dropped between us.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Confirming it would make it real. Denying it would be a lie Mark had already seen through.
“I’m not trying to make this a thing,” Mark said. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But other people are noticing.” He shrugged, letting the implication hang. “Just saying. Your dad is going to take it hard.”
“I’m an adult,” I said, defensiveness coming through in my voice.
“You are.” Mark’s expression held sympathy. “I’m just suggesting you find a way to control the narrative before someone else does it for you.”
He picked up his coffee and left without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stared at the footage I’d been tagging, seeing none of it.
I found pacing helped. Moving kept the panic from settling into my bones and taking root.
Five steps to the door. Turn. Five steps back to my desk. Turn again.
Mark’s words kept running through my mind.
We’d planned to tell my father tonight, together. But what was the point of waiting?
Mark had noticed. Simone had noticed. How long before someone felt obligated to tell my father that his daughter was sleeping with his star defenseman?
Every hour we delayed was another chance for someone else to tell my father before I could. It would be better to do it now and on my terms.
My phone was in my hand before I’d fully decided. The text to Tolrek went out fast. I need to talk to my dad today. I can’t wait anymore.
Hitting send felt like jumping off something high without checking how far down the ground was.
But I was already moving, shoving my phone in my pocket, and heading for the door. Waiting for his response would give me time to second-guess myself, and I’d been second-guessing everything for too long already.
This would end now.
The corridor between the video room and my father’s office had never felt longer.
My feet moved fast, carrying me past the players’ lounge and the assistant coaches’ offices. Each step closer made my pulse climb higher, but turning back wasn’t an option.
Phrases circled through my head again, different variations of the same conversation.
Dad, I’m in love with someone on the team.
Dad, I need you to hear me out before you react.
Dad, please don’t hate me for this.
I still couldn’t find any that sounded right.
His office sat at the end of the hall, and I found the door half-open. Voices carried through the gap, one of them my father’s, the other female.
I slowed as I approached, catching a glimpse through the opening, finding Simone standing inside, holding a plastic container. The wives and girlfriends were known to drop off baked goods for the coaching staff as a thank-you for the work they put in.
She turned toward the door as I reached it, and our eyes met. Understanding flashed across her face, followed by a hint of warning.
“Haley! Come in, come in,” my dad called out. “Simone was dropping off some of her famous lemon bars.”
Simone’s smile spread across her face. “Hi Haley. I was just leaving.” She moved past me in the doorway, her hand catching my arm as she passed.
Be careful. Her touch said everything her mouth didn’t.
Then she was gone, her footsteps fading down the hall.
I stepped into my father’s office, my heart pounding hard enough I wondered if he could hear it.
He sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, grinning like someone who’d won something big.
“Hell of a start to the season, huh?” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Two games, two wins. The press is eating it up.”
I sat, gripping my hands together in my lap to keep them from trembling.
“They’re calling the trade a steal,” he said, pulling up something on his computer screen. “Look at this. Three different articles about how Tolrek’s old organization didn’t see what they had. How we got him for nothing, and he’s playing like a first-line defenseman.”
My belly twisted.
“I knew he had it in him.” My father turned the screen toward me so I could see the headlines I’d already read this morning. “Whatever clicked during camp has worked. I think your sessions played a role in it, though. You’re great at what you do.”
He was crediting me for Tolrek’s success without understanding that what I’d shown Tolrek on tape had been tangled up with everything else we’d become to each other.
“I’m proud of you, honey.” Dad’s expression softened. “You’re a huge part of why this team is succeeding. I don’t say that enough.”
For years I’d been chasing his approval, wanting him to see my work and recognize what I contributed. Now his words made everything harder.
This was my opening, the perfect moment to shift the conversation to confession.
“Dad, I need to talk to you about something.”
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his expression tightened.
“It’s the GM.” He looked up at me. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to take this—”
“Dad, it’s important—”
He was already answering, holding up one finger. “Jim Beecham. Yeah, I saw that. No, we need to—What? When?”
I sat in the chair across from him, watching him talk, feeling the moment slip away.
“Tonight,” my father said, covering the phone with his hand. “Come to my place for dinner? Just us? We’ll sit down and talk. I promise.”
The GM’s voice rose on the other end.
“Seven o’clock?” my father said, turning his attention back to the call.
“Okay,” I said, rising.
He smiled and started typing on his computer screen, his phone wedged between his shoulder and chin.
I left his office, closing the door behind me.
The hallway felt too bright and too empty.
My phone was in my hand before I’d made it five steps.
Change of plans, I texted. I’m telling him tonight at dinner. Just me first, then we’ll talk to him together after.
Tolrek’s response came through fast. Are you sure? I should be there with you.
I stopped walking and leaned against the wall for support. I need to do this part alone. He’s my dad. But I’ll need you after.
I’ll be waiting. I love you.
Reading it three times steadied me and made the hallway feel less like it was closing in.
I took a breath and kept walking.
This was happening. Tonight at seven o’clock, I’d sit across from my father at his dining table and tell him the truth.
The waiting would finally be over.
By four o’clock, I’d finished the opponent breakdown and sent it to the coaching staff. I’d responded to six different requests for footage from various assistant coaches.
Working felt better than sitting and spiraling.
My laptop bag sat on my desk, packed and ready. I’d draped my jacket over the back of my chair.
Leaving early meant I could go home, change, and arrive at my father’s place with enough time to not feel rushed. I’d rehearse what I’d say one more time in the car before I knocked on his door.
The plan felt solid.
I grabbed my jacket and bag, heading for the door.
Voices carried from down the hall as I stepped into the corridor. One of the equipment staff’s offices sat twenty feet away, and I’d pass it on my way by.
As I approached, two male voices echoed from inside, one my father’s.
“Jim, I don’t know how to bring this up,” one of the assistant coaches, Adam Bryant, was saying. “There’s been some talk among the guys…”
My feet froze to the floor.
“About Haley,” Adam said. “And Nosh.”
Silence dropped.
Then my father laughed. “What kind of talk?”
My vision tunneled. The fluorescent lights overhead felt too bright, washing out the hallway until all I could see was the doorway twenty feet ahead and all I could hear was my father’s voice.
Laughing.
He was laughing at the idea that I could be involved with Tolrek.
“That they’re involved or getting there. I don’t have details, but a few of the guys have noticed they’re close.”
My father laughed again.
The sound hit me hard. This wasn’t angry or concerned laughter. No, it was dismissive. The kind of laughter that said the very concept was so absurd it didn’t need serious consideration.
Because I was Haley. His daughter. The good one who always did the right thing and never caused problems and understood how this world worked.
I’d been invisible for so long he couldn’t imagine I might want to be seen.
“Haley knows better than that.” He sounded so certain. “She’s been around this sport her whole life. She’d never compromise her position or put me in that kind of situation.”
“I’m just saying, you might want to check in with her before it becomes a thing.”
Papers shuffled.
“I’ll talk to her,” Dad said. “But I’m sure it’s nothing. Haley’s professional, and Nosh is a good guy. He wouldn’t cross that line.”
Panic shot through me. My heart pounded so hard I felt sick.
I bolted down the hall and didn’t stop moving until I’d reached the exit, pushing through the door into the parking lot.
I dropped my keys twice before I got my car door open. The driver’s seat felt too small when I collapsed into it.
My father had thought it was funny that people were talking. The idea was so silly to him that it didn’t even register as a possibility.
The parking lot stretched out in front of me, mostly empty at this hour. City sounds filtering in from the street beyond. Everything looked completely normal.
But in less than three hours, I’d sit at my father’s dining room table, destroying the one thing he’d been certain would never happen.
I made it home and collapsed on my couch, still in my work clothes.
Seven o’clock. Dinner with my father.
The apartment was too quiet. I could hear my neighbor’s TV through the wall. Someone laughing. The hum of the refrigerator. All normal sounds while my life was about to implode.
I picked up my phone and stared at Tolrek’s last text. Everything alright?
No. Nothing was alright. My father thought I knew better. He thought I’d never put him in this position. He believed Tolrek was too good a guy to cross the line we’d crossed weeks ago.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I should tell him that Bryant had already mentioned us to my dad. That my father had laughed because he found the idea of me compromising my position funny.
But if I told Tolrek, he’d want to come over. Or he’d insist on coming to dinner with me. And I needed to do this part alone. My father should hear it from me first, without Tolrek there as a target for his anger.
I set the phone face down on the couch cushion without responding.
Six fifteen. Forty-five minutes until I had to leave.
I should change my clothes. Fix my hair.
Instead, I sat on my couch, staring at the wall.
How was I going to tell my father I’d fallen in love with Tolrek?