That silenced the room. Everyone looked at me.
I straightened. “We say very little. A league-mandated leave of absence tied to medical evaluation. We don’t use words like ‘incident’ or ‘investigation.’ We keep it clinical.”
Mac nodded, already scrolling through his tablet. “And if the press pushes?”
“Have PR draft a joint statement between the team and league medical,” I said. “Keep it focused on safety and player health. I’ll send notes to the comms team.”
William tilted his head. “You want to be involved in the language?”
“I need to be,” I said, and no one argued. That alone filled my chest with a warm pride.
A moment passed before I added, “I’ll also reach out to the players closest to Hayes. His unit. I’ll hold a small check-in Monday morning. No formal group briefings until we gauge the mood.”
Mac looked up, blinking. “Monday? Sloane—no. You’re off for the week. I’m serious.”
“I’ll take the rest of Monday off after,” I said, dryly. “But I’m not taking off an entire week, Mac. If I need time, I’ll ask for it. Promise.”
That earned a few snorts. Even William cracked the barest smirk.
But I didn’t miss the way Mac looked at me before shifting back to his notes. A little softer. A little more like someone who might trust my judgment.
I also didn’t miss the way William sat a little straighter as he tucked the protocol back into its folder. Like maybe—for the first time—I was exactly the person they needed me to be.
This. Right here. This was the version of me I’d spent years trying to build. Polished. Clear. Unshakeable under pressure. The woman who walked into a legal debrief bruised and still held the room. I should’ve felt proud, but all I felt was torn.
Because hours ago, I was in bed with Oliver, tangled in his arms, letting him hold me while I broke down. He saw every crack. He touched every soft, hidden part of me. And I let him. Not just physically—emotionally. I let him in deeper than I ever had with anyone. And I liked it. God, I liked it too much.
My stomach clenched. The weight of the kiss settled beneath my ribs, hot and heavy and undeniable. I shouldn’t have let it happen, but I didn’t regret it.
I pressed my thumb to the edge of the table, grounding myself against the rise of panic building behind my ribs. I didn’t regret him. I couldn’t. He was kind and steady and so genuine. He never once asked for more than I could give—but I wanted to give him more. I wanted to let myself have him. That was the part that scared the shit out of me.
Because what happened this morning wasn’t a hookup despite my intentional words to push him away.
It was something else. Something weighty. Honest. Like we peeled ourselves open and neither of us looked away. The problem was: I couldn’t afford to feel like that. Not right now. Not with this job.
I had finally earned a seat at this table. After years of being underestimated, overqualified, passed over for men with louder voices and less credentials—I was here. I was being listened to. Trusted. Respected. One mistake, one rumor, one wrong narrative, and I could lose all of it.
And if someone found out about me and Oliver…
I felt like I was split down the middle. Half of me still carried his touch on my skin. The other half was already preparing for the next closed-door meeting.
I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to erase what we shared. But I also didn’t know how to keep both pieces of myself without one falling apart.
So I sat up straighter. Smoothed my sleeve. Took a slow breath.
Because the only thing worse than hurting Oliver… was losing this. Losing everything I’d worked for when I was finally being seen. I didn’t know what to do with that truth.
“Players are arriving in an hour. Take some time to deal with this shit, then refocus. Sloane, are you staying or heading home?” Mac asked, his eyes softening as he stared at me.
“Mac.” I scoffed, standing and smoothing my shirt. “I’m not fucking going home.”
“Atta Doc,” Mac’s lips twitched but then he stood. The meeting concluded, everyone standing up, and William approached me, face passive and lacking his usual smug smile.
“Hey, are you sure you don’t need anything?” He pointed toward my forehead. “You’re bruising, which is a good sign, but not sure you were officially cleared.”
“They are all superficial cuts, no real hit or damage, but thank you.”
“Let me know if things don’t feel better after the game tomorrow. When those cuts are deep, they can do damage. And hey,” he said, gripping the back of his neck and his voice shifting. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Hayes is a massive guy, and that would’ve scared the shit out of me.”
