I looked up. “It’s two twenty-three.”
“I know. You need seven minutes to stop looking like you’re about to confess to murder.”
“Helpful.”
“Accurate.” Her gaze flicked over my face. “Water?”
“I had coffee.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
I drank water.
At two thirty, I walked beside Tessa through the staff corridor with my statement folded in my hand. She didn’t talk. I appreciated that more than I could say.
Declan was already outside the conference room.
Dark suit. No tie. Beard trimmed. Hands relaxed at his sides in a way I knew was deliberate. He looked like a head coach. Like someone ownership trusted to steer a franchise.
Then his gaze found mine, and for half a second, I saw the man from the kitchen. The man who had listened while I told my father I loved him. The man who wanted to take damage before it reached me.
I gave him the smallest shake of my head.
No martyr routine.
His mouth barely moved, but I understood.
Trying.
Tessa opened the door.
The room was colder than it needed to be. Of course it was. Important rooms were always cold, like discomfort proved professionalism.
Whitaker sat near the middle, face grave but not hostile. Beside him was Elaine Voss, the ownership representative, sharp suit, silver glasses, no expression I could read. Marlene was there with a folder. HR counsel, a man named Patel, had a legal pad and a pen. Our president of hockey operations, Dan Kepler, looked like he’d aged five years since lunch.
We sat.
Not together. Not far apart either. Two chairs with a deliberate empty space between them.
Marlene started. “Coach Reid and Mr. Holloway requested this meeting to make a voluntary disclosure concerning a consensual personal relationship and the conflict implications arising from their respective roles.”
Hearing it said out loud by someone else made my stomach drop.
Elaine Voss looked at Declan first. “Coach?”
Declan’s voice was steady. “Jace and I are in a consensual relationship. We recognize that my position as head coach creates a conflict that the organization must address. We should have disclosed earlier. We are disclosing now because continuing to conceal it would be unfair to the franchise, the staff, and the players.”
No flinching. No over-explaining.
Then everyone looked at me.
My heart banged so hard I could feel it in my teeth.
I unfolded the paper. My hand shook once. I put my thumb hard against the crease until it stopped.
“I agree with what Coach Reid said,” I began, then caught myself. Too thin. Too easy. I looked down at the page, then up again. “I’m here to disclose a consensual relationship with Declan Reid. I understand the professional conflict. I also understand that intent doesn’t erase impact. Even if no hockey decision was influenced, the structure creates questions. I’m prepared to cooperate with review and reasonable measures to protect the team.”
My mouth went dry.
