Chapter 22 #2
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “There are terms you two must follow if you want to continue this relationship with this team and in this arena.”
I tensed.
“First, Haley won’t work with Tolrek’s footage anymore unless it’s team-wide breakdowns. Mark will handle individual sessions with the defensive unit from now on.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“This protects you both,” Dad said. “No one can say you’re giving him favorable analysis. No one can question whether I’m giving him ice time because of you. The optics matter, whether we like it or not.”
The logic made sense.
“Second, the team needs to know. Not the media yet, however. We need to get ahead of this.”
“When?” Tolrek asked.
“Team meeting tomorrow morning. I’ll handle it.”
My belly dropped.
Tomorrow morning, my father would stand in front of twenty-three professional hockey players and all the staff and tell them his daughter was sleeping with their first-line defenseman. Players I’d analyzed for years. Ones who’d nodded at me in hallways and treated me like furniture.
They’d all know, and some would think I’d been spreading my legs instead of doing my job.
“Haley.” My father’s voice cut through the spiral. “Look at me.”
I did.
“I’m handling it,” he said. “Not you. Me. And anyone who has a problem with it can come talk to me directly.” He pulled in a breath and released it.
“Third, I don’t care what you do outside this arena.
But inside, you’re staff, and he’s a player.
No displays or complications. You maintain professionalism at all times. ”
“Understood,” Tolrek said.
Emotions flickered across his face before he locked them down, though I knew exactly what he was thinking.
The tape sessions were done. The hours we’d spent in my office, heads bent over footage, learning each other through hockey, were over.
Mark would take my place, and I’d lose the excuse to be near him during the day.
It would be worth it, though. Every bit of it was worth it if it meant keeping him.
“Agreed,” I said.
“Fourth.” My father paused. “I was already planning to promote you to Director of Video Analysis, Haley. It would put you over Mark and the other analysts, reporting directly to me. I’m moving that timeline up.”
“Dad, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” His tone left no room for argument. “You’ve earned it. And this way, your role is clearly defined as supervisory. It’ll be harder for anyone to question your work or your judgment when you’re senior staff.”
My father narrowed his gaze on Tolrek. “If you hurt her, I don’t care if you’re playing the best hockey of your career. I don’t care that this team needs you. I will make sure you never play in this league again.”
Tolrek held his eyes without flinching. “If I hurt her, I’ll deserve it.”
“Damn right you will.”
My tears came again.
My father handed me the tissue box from his desk.
I took it and tried to laugh through the crying. “I’m going to use all your tissues.”
“I’ve got more in the drawer.” For the first time since we’d walked in, he looked less like a coach laying down the law and more like a dad trying to figure out how to let his daughter go.
“This is going to be complicated,” he said.
I wiped my eyes with a tissue. “We can handle complicated.”
“We’ve been handling it for weeks,” Tolrek said.
I shot him a look that said it might be too soon for jokes.
But my father smiled. “Yeah. I think you can.” He cleared his throat. “Your mother would be proud of you for standing up to me.”
I broke all over again.
“She always said I needed someone to tell me when I was being an ass. I miss her doing it, but I’m glad you did it instead.”
My father stood slowly, like his joints hurt. He came around the desk and stopped in front of Tolrek.
He stood there, just looking at him. Measuring him. Deciding.
Then he extended his hand.
Tolrek took it without hesitation. Their grips locked, two men who understood what this cost, what it meant.
“Take care of her,” my father said, his voice rough. “Or I’ll end you.”
“I will.”
My father’s jaw worked. “She’s all I have.”
“I know.”
My father’s grip loosened, and he stepped back, his hand falling away like he was letting go of something he’d held too tight for too long.
“Keep playing the way you have been,” Dad said. “That wasn’t fake just because you two were together. That was real.”
We left the office together, finding the hallway empty. We walked side by side until we reached the turn that would take us to different parts of the building.
Stopping, we looked at each other.
“We did it,” I said.
“We did.”
“He didn’t kill you.”
“I’m as surprised as you are.”
Laughter bubbled up in my chest, and he started laughing too.
“No more hiding,” I said.
He grinned. “I’m glad.”
We stood there, not saying a word.
Tomorrow, the team would know. The hiding would be over, but the real test would begin.
“I’ll see you at home,” I said.
His smile broke wide. “Yeah. Home.”
We separated and headed in different directions, but this time the distance didn’t feel like loss.
The hiding was over. What came next would be harder and messier, but completely ours.