“You’re off the roster. Right. Now. Your contract buyout papers will be on your agent’s desk within the hour. Security will escort you out. You are no longer a Wildcatter.” I leaned closer. “If I have my way, you’ll never play in the NHL again.”
A stunned silence. Then, as if a pressure valve had released, mutters of approval rolled through the room.
Jeff surged to his feet, face mottled red. “You can’t do that. I’ll take this to the press. I’ll tell them everything about your little intern sweetheart and how you let her run?—”
Cormac moved in, fisting in Jeff’s jersey, yanking him nose to nose. “Say one more word about her,” he said, “and you won’t have a face left to take to the press.”
Jeff swallowed hard. For the first time, genuine fear flickered.
I inclined my head toward the door. “Out.”
Two security guards appeared, no doubt brought by Silas, who now stood just inside the locker room door. Jeff tried to shrug them off, but they hauled him toward the exit, his protests echoing off tile and steel. He was still in his skates.
When the door slammed shut, silence fell like a weighted blanket.
I turned back to the room. “You give me your best. Every day. You respect each other.” I thumped the large, handpainted Wildcatters logo on the wall. “That’s the deal. If you can’t do that, you don’t belong here.”
After a beat, Cormac stepped forward. “We’ve got your back, boss.”
Nods passed from man to man. For the first time in weeks, the air felt breathable, almost relaxed—as close to right as it could be. The players would get back to an equilibrium quickly.
But my chest didn’t lighten. I needed to find out what had happened to Zaila. I needed to fix it.
Shit. I’d known Jay was a problem. I’d known Jeff was, too. But I hadn’t handled either situation correctly, and Zaila had paid the price.
The organization’s halls were quiet, almost as if the staff held its breath. I passed through the social media bullpen, and the faint whispers between employees silenced. Tim had told me Zaila was gone, but my guts twisted when I noted her empty desk, her dark office, her laptop still sitting open, much like the wound I’m sure it caused her to be accused of disloyalty.
I’d now done what the team needed, protected my players and removed Jeff’s cancerous presence. Cormac was happy, and the rest of the players were relieved. The organization would be stronger for it.
And yet…Zaila wasn’t here because of my fuckup—my hubris that had told me I knew best how to deal with any situation. Just like with Karl. I’d been sure I should go to that party, sure it would be fun. Instead, because I’d mouthed off to the wrong people, angry with my brother for trying to keep me safe, I’d done much worse than simply hurt him. I’d gotten Karl killed. And I’d brought this situation to Zaila’s feet because I’d decided I could get Jeff to see reason. My overconfident foolishness had wrecked everything again.
My dead, beloved brother.
My grieving, beloved woman.
I kept fucking up with the most important people in my life.
I tried to call her again, but I was directed to voicemail; she must have turned off her phone. Dammit. I really wanted to talk to her, to make sure she was okay. She hadn’t responded to my texts, but I still sent another.
I turned away from Zaila’s empty desk and walked toward the exit. Each step was heavy, final, the weight of a man who had won the battle but failed to secure the only victory that mattered. I had to make this right with Zaila.
Chapter 35
Zaila
The comments from Natalie and Jay echoed through my mind for the rest of the day. I’d considered going home to my parents’ house, but I couldn’t stomach being there without them. With nowhere else to go, I’d ended up at Gunnar’s, just as I had for weeks. Their words circled through my head as I circled the living room yet again.
“PR spin... Gunnar’s gold digger… Unprofessional...”
I didn’t fit in Gunnar’s world, and people immediately assumed the worst of me. They immediately began talking about me. Natalie had made it clear that when most people looked at me, they didn’t see Gunnar’s partner. They saw someone temporary.
I couldn’t do temporary—I wouldn’t. I made another loop around the living room as doubts slipped under my skin. Hadn’t I wondered if he really meant it before? Just last night, when he’d rolled close and whispered “love you” against my hair. I’d wanted to believe those words—him. God, I wanted to. But everything else seemed to work against that.
I smoothed my palms over my skirt, staring at my reflection in the darkened window. The woman who looked back seemed small, uncertain. Not the Zaila who walked into boardrooms without flinching. I was no longer the woman Daddy would be proud of. I was flailing…failing.
If I stayed here with Gunnar, I’d lose myself piece by piece. I already was. This uncertainty about my place, and about whether I even had an internship at this point, only increased my anxiety as I waited for Gunnar to make our relationship real, as he’d promised to do. Instead, I floundered, unsure and unaware of what was happening—between us but also within my team at work, let alone the larger organization.
I watched the press conference, my stomach rolling and dropping before it hardened as Gunnar ended it, stepping away from the mic without ever mentioning that he and I were dating. He’d barely mentioned me at all—instead focusing on Jeff, Jay, and Lydia, making sure to name them and detail their part in the plot to distract and hurt the Wildcatters organization.
