Finley
“Thanksforcomingintoday, Finley,” White says from across the conference table.
Eli, the head of HR, is sitting at the top of the table, the only other person in the room.
“After a thorough investigation,” White starts, and I force my expression into neutrality as I listen to him say the words from the HR script. This is it. This is the end of my career.
The hollow ache in my chest may never go away, but after spending two weeks at a cabin in the woods doing nothing but hiking and putting together puzzles, I’ve accepted my fate.
White continues, “And in light of new information, we found that you violated clause 4.2 in the Yeti handbook, by engaging in a romantic or sexual relationship with a player.”
I swallow hard. I knew it was coming, but hearing it from the mouth of a person I have so much respect for burns.
White’s gaze flashes to mine briefly before going back to the paper in front of him. This is the harsh reality of a termination—it has to be by the book. “There is no way around the fact that you engaged in a relationship with someone with whom you had power over. The investigation, however, showed that the relationship had no impact on playing time or roster decisions, specifically since the player was on IR and not participating in games during the time of the relationship. There is no evidence of favoritism or harm to the team.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, looking between the two men, when he stops reading.
Eli takes a deep breath. “I want to be very clear: what you did was a violation of policy, and we are in no way condoning your actions. However, because the relationship did not compromise competitive integrity or workplace authority, we have decided not to enact the recommended punishment of termination. Instead, you will have a formal, written reprimand in your personnel file. You will have four weeks’ unpaid suspension. As a condition of your return, you will have completed mandatory ethics retraining. You are on probation for the next twelve months.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“I’m… not fired?” I ask.
White shakes his head. “No. But you are in very big trouble, Coach Blake, and on very thin ice.”
“Of course, sir,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.
“Oh, and you, Mr. Kane, and anyone else either of you has told about this will be expected to sign NDAs. You will make no public statements about your administrative leave or your suspension.”
I rub the area just below my collarbone. The public speculation has to be out of control by now. A suspension will only make it worse.
As excited as I am to still have the job of my dreams, I don’t know what to do with the fact I’ve lost the trust of everyone here.
We wrap up the meeting, signing documents and going through all the terms of my suspension. Finally, Eli says we’re done with everything and leaves me alone with White.
“I am sorry,” I apologize, hoping he understands just how much I mean it.
He nods, but I can tell from the look on his face how disappointed in me he is. “I know. Unfortunately, it takes a long time to earn back trust after something like this. We’ll get there—we all will—but it’s going to take some work. But no one can question whether you really believe in a culture of accountability now. Most people would’ve just hidden this under the rug.
“I know.” My gaze locks on his. “I know.”
As I start to leave, something White said at the beginning of the conversation flits back into my awareness. “What was the new information?” I ask, turning back to White.
“What?”
“At the beginning of the meeting, you said in light of new information. What was it?”
Uncertainty flickers behind his eyes. “Kane retired.”
“What?” My heart drops to my toes. “No. You told him no, right?”
White shrugs. “I told him it might be for nothing. That it would in no way guarantee you wouldn’t be fired. He knew,” White says, standing from his chair. “I told him not to. He said it wasn’t about this.”
“What was it about, then?” I ask.
White stops next to me. “You’ll have to ask him that. And now that it’s not a fucking dumb mistake for you to be with him, I can tell you: I hope it works out for you two.”
“I—Thank you. We’re not still together, though.”
