He was moving Tolrek up to the first line and starting him when the puck dropped. I watched the news ripple through the room, most nodding in respect, a few lifting eyebrows, especially the orc being bumped down to the second line.
“One more thing before we break,” my father said. “We’re three games into preseason, and I want to remind everyone about keeping personal and professional lives separate. This applies to everyone, staff included. We’re building something solid here, and that requires focus from all of us.”
The words hit hard.
He wasn’t talking about me specifically. He gave this speech at the start of every season, a reminder that the team came first and personal complications could derail everything we were trying to build.
Now it felt like he was looking directly at me while he said it, even though he wasn’t. He scanned the room, making eye contact with multiple people, ensuring his message hit.
Guilt churned through my belly.
The meeting ended and the players filed out, heading to the locker room to prepare for tonight’s game. I stayed in my seat, pretending to review my notes, though I was actually trying to steady my breathing.
“Haley.”
I looked up to find my father standing at the front of the room, everyone else gone.
“Good work,” he said. “Nosh is playing like a different player. Whatever you put in that package worked.”
“Just doing my job.”
“You do it better than anyone.” He came my way, his expression warm. At this moment, he wasn’t the coach but my dad. “I know this life isn’t always easy. Following me from city to city and working in a world that doesn’t always make space for you. But you’ve built an amazing thing here. I’m proud of you.”
I would’ve welcomed words like this a month ago. I’d chased my father’s approval my whole life.
Now they just made the guilt churn worse.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Are you okay? You seem tired.”
“I’ve got a lot of prep to do for tonight’s game.”
He studied my face for a moment before sucking in a breath and releasing ig. “Don’t work too hard. You’re allowed to have a life outside this building.”
The irony of it would’ve been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.
He left, and I sat in the empty meeting room for five more minutes before I could make myself move.
The hallway between the meeting room and my office was empty when I stepped out.
Then it wasn’t.
Tolrek came around the corner from the opposite direction, probably heading to the stairwell that would take him to the locker room. We saw each other at the same time.
For one instant, we were alone in a corridor with no cameras and no witnesses.
My body moved before my brain caught up. One step toward him. Another. My hand half-raised, reaching to touch him.
He stopped walking.
We stood about eight feet apart, crossable in a few strides. That was nothing, really, in a building this size.
Yet it felt like miles.
I dropped my hand to my side.
A door opened farther down the hall. Voices echoed from around the corner, an orc laughing. The moment shattered.
