Evelyn takes a seat at the table. Instead of looking at the tablet, her gaze remains fastened on me. “This wasn’t recklessness,” she says evenly. “It was defense.”
Hugh glances at her before his attention slides back to me.
“It was about protecting his family,” she adds. “Anyone who tries to frame it otherwise will have to go through me first.”
She doesn’t hesitate or try to distance herself from any of it. She believes Kia and is choosing a side.
Ours.
Noah finally speaks again. “The good news is Collin DeSoto declined to press charges. I wanted that confirmed before saying anything. There won’t be a criminal case.”
I stay still, barely able to breathe.
“The league is issuing a fine,” he continues. “But no suspension or further disciplinary action will be taken against you.”
Relief hits like a delayed wave, crashing over me with so much force, my fingers curl against the arms of the chair. Tension drains from me in one long exhale.
It’s a small miracle.
Rina’s shoulders loosen as she starts typing. “We’ll have a statement out by noon. No interviews unless absolutely necessary.”
Evelyn nods once. “We’ll manage the media cycle. If we’re lucky, it’ll flare and then fade.”
Hugh closes the folder. “Do me a favor, Lennox. Don’t give them a sequel.”
“We won’t,” I say, meaning it.
We spend another half hour reviewing language, timelines, and press releases. As I rise to leave, the understanding of how close I came to losing everything presses down on me. If I’d hit him a second time or lost control, this meeting could’ve ended very differently.
The locker room is already buzzing as I step inside. Music blasts as the guys tease one another, giving each other shit. The moment someone notices me, the entire room quiets.
Steele breaks the silence. “Everything good, Lennox?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s fine.”
Knox nods once. “You did what any of us would’ve in the same situation.”
River’s gaze holds steady. “Damn right. We’ve got your back.”
Oliver doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he studies me before stepping closer, his voice low. “Thanks for protecting my sister.”
The last of my tension drains with those words.
Jax snorts. “Next time, how about we try using words first. You know, lots of ‘I’ statements. ‘I feel—fill in the blank—when you do this.’ See how easy that is?”
A few chuckles ripple throughout the room, and the atmosphere lightens, returning to normal.
I suit up, muscle memory carrying me through when my thoughts continue to lag behind. The gear goes on piece by piece. First pads, then skates, and finally gloves.
When I step onto the ice, the cold cuts through some of the haze. It bites at my lungs, forcing me into the present whether I’m ready or not. Between drills, I skate slow circles near the crease, letting the rhythm and routine do what it’s always done and hold me upright when everything else threatens to tilt.
It doesn’t take long before my mind drifts to Kia and the way she looked at me last night, like I was solid ground beneath her feet.
In the end, I protected her the only way I knew how. I didn’t think or hesitate. I just acted.
And I’d do it all over again.
I’ve never been the kind of man who stands by while someone I care about gets hurt. I’m not wired to watch and wait, hoping it works out in the end. I shield what’s mine, protecting the people who trust me.
