“That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss—the collaboration between you two.” Davidson leaned back in his chair, his mouth slightly curved. “Wesley, how are Griffin’s upcoming appearances looking?”
I pulled up out my phone and scrolled through the calendar, grateful for the familiar territory of work. “He’s got the radio interview Friday morning, the season ticket holder reception next week, and we’re coordinating with a sports gear company for a potential partnership appearance in November. Plus, the ongoing youth hockey clinics monthly.”
“Excellent. And Griffin, how are you finding Wesley’s support?”
“Invaluable,” Griffin said without hesitation. “He makes the media side of things much more manageable. Having someone who understands both hockey culture and public relations has been extremely helpful.”
I winced inwardly at our deception, at how Davidson’s pleased expression was based on incomplete information. If he knew what had actually happened last night, if he knew we were violating the organization’s non-fraternization policy?—
“I’m glad to hear it. You two seem to be working well together.” Davidson’s gaze moved between us, assessing. “Even noticed you sitting together on the San Jose flights. Good to see that level of collaboration and communication.”
My throat tightened slightly. He had noticed. But his tone suggested approval rather than suspicion.
“Wesley was helping me prepare for the chamber speechduring the flights,” Griffin explained smoothly. “Made good use of the travel time.”
“Smart. That’s exactly the kind of efficiency I like to see.” Davidson stood, signaling the meeting’s end. “Keep up the good work, both of you. Griffin, you’re quickly becoming exactly the face of the franchise we hoped you’d be. Wesley, your support is clearly a major factor in that success.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davidson.” Griffin and I stood.
“Thank you, sir.”
We left Davidson’s office and walked down the hallway in silence until we were far enough away to speak without being overheard.
“Well,” Griffin said quietly, “that was terrifying.” He chuckled.
“But informative.” My mind was already processing implications, calculating risk factors. “He noticed us sitting together on the plane. Didn’t find it suspicious because we had a legitimate work reason, but he noticed.”
“Roberts noticed too. Which means other people probably did.”
“Exactly.” I stopped and turned to face Griffin in the empty hallway. I whispered, “We have to be so much more careful than either of us realized. Every interaction is being observed and evaluated. Any change in our behavior will be noted.”
Griffin’s expression was serious, the weight of our decision settling visibly on his shoulders. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. But I’m having a very real awareness of how difficult this is going to be.” I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to offer physical comfort. But we were at work, in a hallway, where anyone could appear at any moment. “We need to be careful about when and where we project a professional image.”
“Agreed.” He glanced toward the closed doors of the surrounding offices. “Can we meet tonight?”
“Sure. My place? Six o’clock?”
“I’ll bring dinner.”
“No need. I’ll cook and you can help. You said you liked watching cooking shows.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Watching is very different from doing. I’m terrible at cooking.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I’ll teach you something easy. Just make sure no one sees you arrive.” The reminder felt disappointing even as I recognized its necessity.
After Griffin left, I returned to my office and closed the door, leaning against it and trying to process the morning’s emotional whiplash. The joy of Griffin bringing me coffee, the terror of Davidson’s summons, the relief of his approval, and the sobering reminder of just how carefully we’d have to navigate this.
Grant had been pleased with our collaboration and had specifically noted our teamwork as a positive. The irony wasn’t lost on me—we were being praised for exactly the relationship we now had to hide.
I sat at my desk and opened my laptop, but instead of working, I stared at the screensaver—a photo of Portland’s skyline at sunset that I’d taken my first week in the city.
Fresh start. New beginning. A chance to do things differently.
I’d meant all of that. But I hadn’t expected becoming close to a closeted captain whose career and reputation depended on secrecy. Hadn’t imagined choosing to enter another hidden relationship despite promising myself I never would.
Yet here I was, already planning logistics for tonight’smeeting, already thinking three steps ahead about how to manage risks and maintain appearances.
