I swallow. “I’m in love with her. I need to make sure she’s ok.”
“If you love her,” he snaps, “you leave her alone.”
Silence.
“Title IX may issue a no-contact directive,” he adds. “You will comply.”
“Yes.”
“If she files a formal complaint,” he says, “you will not retaliate. You will not influence witnesses. You will not play the victim.”
His gaze pins me.
“You will take it.”
“I will.”
He studies me once more. “You did the right thing with Reed.”
I don’t move.
“But you don’t get to balance the scales,” he says. “Good men don’t keep score.”
“I’m not asking for credit.”
“Then don’t,” he replies. “Just take it. Quietly.”
He slides a form across the desk.
Interim Suspension Pending Review.
“Sign.”
I do.
“Side exit,” he says. “No teammates. No scenes.”
I stand. My hand closes around the knob.
“Coach,” I say.
He waits.
“I didn’t mean to destroy her.”
He answers without softness. “Intent doesn’t undo impact.”
“Yes,” I manage.
The hallway noise hits me like water—pucks, laughter, blades on ice.
A world that belonged to me. Except now it doesn’t anymore.
I walk toward the side exit like I’m carrying my own body out of a wreck. For the first time since she said she loved me and still walked away, I understand.
This isn’t the part where I win her back.
This is the part where I pay.
