I try to swallow away the feeling of dread.
"Silas," Dr. Sable greets me. "Thanks for coming back. Have a seat."
I sit. The couch squeaks under me. My palms are already sweating.
"How are you?" She looks at me, her expression pleasant, pen poised to take notes. "How is your injury?"
"Fine," I mumble. "I'm sitting out for a few games while my shoulder heals up."
"I see." She makes a note. "Other than that, how are you feeling?"
"Before we talk about your specific situation," she says, "I want to give you some context. A lot of players reach a crossroads like this. Some lean into coaching or scouting. Some move into player development. Some open gyms or sports clinics. Some step back from the sport entirely. It's a transition, not a failure. Part of my job is helping you understand what your options might look like."
Her calm tone hits every wrong nerve. My jaw locks. I don't want options. I want to stay on the ice. I want to contribute. I want to matter. I don't want to hear one more person, including Scout's ex boyfriend turned agent, tell me I need a backup plan.
She continues. "Today, I'm not trying to fix anything. I only want to understand what you've been carrying. Let's start with your support network. Do you have a partner or someone you talk to when things get difficult?"
Scout comes to mind instantly. My neck heats. "There's this woman. Scout. She works for the Havoc and she's living with me. Temporarily."
Dr. Sable's pen stills. Her eyes lift to mine. She seems tongue tied for a long moment. Her eyes drift to the photo on her desk.
"Silas, before we continue, I need to let you know I have a personal connection to someone you've mentioned. Becauseof that, I may not be the best therapist for you. I'm happy to refer you to a colleague."
I stare at the photo that I barely saw when I walked in. Two women in the woods. The blonde with sharp features and controlled posture. The other with curls and a softer smile.
Scout. That's why Sable looked so familiar. She's obviously related, somehow.
The world tilts sideways. My therapist knows the woman who's sharing my home, my bed. The same woman I have feelings for, who makes sure I eat and ice my shoulder and stretch even when I fight her about it.
The woman who looks at me like I'm still worth something even though I feel myself slide toward former player territory every day. God, if Dr. Sable told Scout a tenth of what I've said in this office, she'd probably never speak to me again.
Everything in my chest tightens. Sweat breaks across my back. The office feels too small and too bright.
"Silas?" Sable's voice cuts through the noise. "Are you all right?"
"I've got to go." I stand too fast and the chair scrapes across the floor.
"We still have forty minutes left in the session."
"I can't do this." My hand closes around my jacket. "I shouldn't have come."
"Silas, wait. If you're uncomfortable, we can talk about that. You should let me refer you to one of my colleagues. Please don't leave..."
But all I can think about is all the shit I've said here in this room. Scout shouldn't know any of it. She might know how close to broken I am. And now Scout's sister is sitting threefeet from me, ready to hear every weakness I've spent years shoving down.
I push into the hallway. My pulse hammers in my ears. The elevator takes too long, so I take the stairs, shoulder screaming on every step. I don't stop.
By the time I reach the parking deck, my hands are shaking. I sit in my truck without starting it, staring at the rain through the windshield.
Scout's sister. Her sister now knows I showed up here. Her sister knows that I'm unraveling. If Sable talks to Enzo or management or anyone in the Havoc front office, it'll go straight into my file. Another note about instability. Like they need another reason to see me as a liability instead of a defenseman worth keeping.
And that's ignoring the fact that Sable will probably go straight to her sister and tell her to ditch me before I snap.
The thought makes me sick. I drop my forehead to the steering wheel and try to breathe. I'm not ready to be a former anything. And I'm definitely not ready for Scout to find out how close that future feels.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Scout
