Jace stared at me, and I watched his expression shift—from defiant to something softer, more vulnerable. “Grant?—”
The door opened.
Tess walked in first, followed immediately by June. Our PR director looked like she'd run from the arena—hair slightly messed, makeup immaculate, phone already in her hand.
“Don't say anything else,” June said immediately, eyes locked on Jace. “Not a word. Not until we figure out what the narrative is.”
I stood, putting myself between her and the bed. “This isn't about narrative. This is about his health.”
“Everything is about narrative when you're the face of a franchise.” She turned to Tess. “What's the actual medical situation?”
Tess glanced at me, then at Jace, clearly uncomfortable before telling June everything.
“Fuck.” June started typing on her phone. “Okay. Here's what we say: ongoing evaluation, precautionary measures, no timeline yet. We don't mention the hamstring. We don't mention any previous injuries. We frame it as caution, not catastrophe.”
“June—” I started.
“No.” She looked up at me. “I know you want to do the right thing here, Grant, but the optics matter. Star player down right before prelims? The media is going to go insane. We need to control this before it becomes a story about hidden injuries and medical negligence.”
“Medical negligence is exactly what this is.”
“That's not helping.” She turned back to Jace. “Did anyone else see the imaging? Anyone outside this room know about the hamstring?”
“Just Dr. Warren,” Tess said quietly.
“Good. We keep it that way. The official statement is shoulder injury, timeline uncertain. We buy ourselves time to figure out the full situation before we have to answer questions.”
“He's not playing,” I said.
Everyone turned to look at me.
“Grant—” June started.
“He's not playing. Not in three weeks. Not in six weeks. Not until he's fully healed and cleared by an independent medicalprofessional who doesn't have a vested interest in getting him back on the ice.”
Jace sat up straighter despite the pain. “Coach, you can't?—”
“I can and I am. You're benched. Full stop.”
His face went hard, anger flashing in his eyes despite the pain meds. “The team needs me. The prelims?—”
“The team needs you healthy more than they need you hurt.” I turned to June. “Put out whatever statement you want. Frame it however you need to. But he's not playing until I say he can, and I'm not saying he can until he's actually ready.”
June's eyes narrowed. “You're making this decision right now? In a hospital room, while he's sedated?”
“Yes.”
“Grant, if we bench him, the speculation is going to be brutal. People are going to ask questions. They're going to wonder if there's more to the story.”
“Let them wonder.”
“And if they find out about the hamstring? If they find out he hid it and we let him play?” Her voice dropped. “That's a scandal. That's investigations. That's lawyers and insurance companies and a media shitstorm that could destroy all of us.”
“Then we get ahead of it. We admit there was a previous injury that wasn't properly documented. We take responsibility. We move forward with better protocols.” I looked at Tess. “Starting with you never hiding injuries again.”
She flinched but nodded.
“You're willing to throw us all under the bus for this?” June asked.
