“He didn’t. This is something I should have done when we discussed it.”
She closes the door and sits in the chair across from me.
“Deacon’s the best, but Johnson used to be one hell of a goalie,” I shake my head. “She had a lot of sessions with him.”
“You think?—”
“He wasn’t friends with Dingy at first. I think if you can gain his trust, get him to talk, he’d have a lot to say.”
“He’s very angry about being sent down. He blames Deacon, from what I understand.” She shakes her head. “But if she’s manipulated him, it would make more sense.”
“He loved Deacon just like the rest of this team.” I shrug. “Maybe talk to Deacon about it. Just a thought.”
“Can you tell me what happened to you, or would you rather not?”
“The first time I was summoned to speak with her, she implied that she was necessary for team advancement. That access to her was access to influence.”
“Did you feel like she was threatening you?”
“No. She implied.”
“That’s enough.”
I nod.
“I declined further contact. Quietly.”
“You didn’t report it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Because I thought I could handle it. Because I didn’t want noise. Because I didn’t want to look weak. Because men are not supposed to be on the receiving end of that story.
“I calculated the disruption.”
“You understand this may involve licensing boards, internal investigation, and public scrutiny.”
“Yes.”
“You understand your name may be attached.”
“Yes.”
She studies me carefully.
“Do you want this anonymous?”
“Not if it means Savannah stays safe and that bitch gets what she has coming to her.” I pull out my phone. “Because of who I am on the other side of the pond, I took notes after the second session,” I tell her. “Times and dates. Drugs, she suggested I take for the anxiety she attempted to diagnose me. And the last time, I recorded it on my phone.”
I send her the note and the video.
“You anticipated needing it.”
“Yes.”
She reads over the note, jaw tightens slightly.
