Chapter Twenty-Four
CRISIS MANAGEMENT
Zayden
Tori hasn’t texted me back in three hours.
I’m not the kind of guy who stares at his phone waiting for a reply. I have a kid to raise, a career to maintain, and better things to do than refresh my messages like a teenager with a crush.
And yet here I am, sitting in my kitchen at 4 PM, staring at my phone as if it owes me something.
Me (1:47 PM): Hey. You okay? You seemed off this morning.
Me (3:33 PM): Starting to worry. Just let me know you’re good.
Me (4:15 PM): Tori?
Nothing. Radio silence. Three blue check marks stare back at me, which means she’s seen them but is choosing not to respond.
That’s... not like her.
Maisie’s at gymnastics until five, so I’ve got a little while to spiral in peace.
I make an energy drink I don’t need, pace the length of my living room, and check my phone eleven more times.
I’m probably winding myself up over nothing.
She’s busy. She’s working. She’s got patients, paperwork, and a hundred things more important than reassuring her. .. whatever I am.
Boyfriend? That feels presumptuous. We haven’t had that conversation.
Guy she’s been sneaking around with? Accurate but depressing.
Man who’s falling so hard for her he can barely see straight? Unfortunately also accurate.
My phone buzzes, and I nearly drop it grabbing for it, but it’s not Tori. It’s Banks.
Banks: You home?
Me: Yeah. Why?
Banks: I’m coming over. Don’t argue.
I don’t get a chance to argue. Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on my door, and when I open it, Banks is standing there looking like someone stole his girlfriend. Which is concerning, because Banks doesn’t have a girlfriend, and his default expression is already pretty grim.
“What’s wrong?” I step back to let him in. “Did something happen?”
He walks past me into the living room, then turns around with his arms crossed. “Sit down.”
“I’m not sitting down. You’re freaking me out. Just tell me—”
“There’s a rumor going around.” His voice is flat, careful. “About you and Tori.”
The floor drops out from under me.
“What kind of rumor?”
“The kind where Reed’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that he saw you two at the hotel in Minneapolis. Middle of the night. Her room. Door closing.” Banks holds my gaze. “It’s spread through the whole facility. Dana knows.”
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to find Grayson Reed, wrap my hands around his throat, and squeeze until that smug little smile disappears forever. I’m going to—
“Zay.” Banks steps closer. “Breathe.”
“He’s been after her for weeks.” My voice comes out rough, barely recognizable. “She turned him down, and this is—this is retaliation. This is him being a petty, vindictive piece of—”
“I know what it is.”
“And now she’s going to pay for it? Her career is going to suffer because some entitled asshole couldn’t handle rejection?”
“That’s how it usually works, yeah.”
I’m pacing now, unable to stand still, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. All I can think about is Tori’s face this morning—the way she smiled at me across the training room, careful and secret, like we had all the time in the world to figure this out.
We didn’t. We don’t.
“Dana pulled her into her office about an hour ago,” Banks continues. “I don’t know what was said, but James saw her leaving, and she looked...” He pauses. “Bad. She looked bad.”
That’s why she hasn’t texted back. She’s been getting interrogated about us while I sat here refreshing my phone like an idiot.
“I have to talk to her.”
“You will. But first, you need to calm down and think about what you’re going to do.”
“What I’m going to do?” I stop pacing and stare at him. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to march into Dana’s office and tell her it was all me. That I pursued Tori, that she tried to maintain professional boundaries and I pushed past them, that if anyone should face consequences, it’s—”
“And then what?”
“Then she keeps her job. Her reputation. Everything she’s worked for.”
Banks shakes his head slowly. “And you get what? Suspended for conduct violations? Fined? Benched during a playoff push?”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
“You should.” His voice hardens. “Think about Maze, Z. You get suspended for misconduct, you miss games—that affects custody optics. Sienna’s been quiet lately, but what if that changes, you really think her lawyers won’t jump on something like this?
‘NHL player suspended for inappropriate relationship with staff member’—that’s exactly the kind of ammunition they’d love to have. ”
I freeze.
Maze. Always Maze.
Everything comes back to her—every decision, every risk, every choice I make gets filtered through the lens of what it might cost my daughter.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way, except right now it feels like a trap.
Like I’m being forced to choose between protecting Tori and protecting Maisie, and there’s no version of this where everyone comes out okay.
“So what am I supposed to do?” My voice cracks on the question. “Let Tori take the fall? Let her lose everything while I skate by because I’ve got more leverage?”
“No.” Banks moves to stand in front of me, blocking my pacing path. “You let Tori decide what she wants. You talk to her, figure out your options together, and deal with the consequences like adults. Not like some knight in shining armor who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re already planning to throw yourself on the grenade without even asking her if that’s what she wants.” He raises an eyebrow. “You ever think maybe she’d like a say in her own future?”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it.
He’s right. I hate that he’s right, but he is.
This isn’t my decision to make alone. Whatever happens next, it has to be something we choose together. That’s what being partners means—both people facing the mess side by side.
“When did you get so wise?” I mutter.
“I’ve always been wise. You just don’t listen.” Banks claps a hand on my shoulder. “Call her. Go see her. But don’t do anything stupid until you’ve talked it through.”
“Define stupid.”
“Punching Reed. Storming into Dana’s office. Making grand declarations that you’ll regret tomorrow.” He almost smiles. “Basically, don’t be you.”
“Helpful.”
“I try.” He heads for the door but pauses with his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, I think you two are good together. Tori’s solid. Smart. She doesn’t take your crap, which God knows you need.”
“Thanks?”
“I’m just saying—whatever you have to do to make this work, it’s probably worth doing.” He meets my eyes. “Some things are more important than avoiding a PR headache.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m alone with my phone, my racing thoughts, and the growing certainty that my whole life is about to change.
I pull up Tori’s contact and type out a message.
Me: Hey we need to talk. You okay?
I wait, stare at the screen, and force myself to keep typing even though my hands want to shake.
Me: I can come over after I pick up Maze.
Still nothing. The silence is deafening.
Me: Whatever happens, we figure it out together. Yeah?
My screen stays dark.
Then I grab my keys and head out to pick up my daughter, because no matter what’s falling apart in the rest of my life, Maisie still needs her dad. She still needs normal. She still needs to believe that the people who love her will show up, even when everything else is chaos.
I can fall apart later.
Right now, I have a kid to raise and a woman to fight for.
And God help anyone who tries to stand in my way.