“So you’re saying this is your fault.”
“I’m saying if anyone should face consequences, it should be me. Not her.”
Dana is quiet for a long moment. I can’t read her expression, and it’s making me want to crawl out of my skin.
“That’s very noble,” she finally says. “But it doesn’t change the facts. There’s a policy. It exists for good reason. And whether you initiated things or not, she made choices too.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend nothing happened.” I move around the chair and sit, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “I’m asking you to consider the context. Reed started these rumors because Tori rejected him. He’s been harassing her for weeks—showing up for fake injuries, blocking doorways, making comments. This is retaliation, pure and simple.”
Something shifts in Dana’s expression. “I had no idea.”
I figured as much. My jaw tightens. “You want to talk about conduct violations? Start with him.”
“Reed’s behavior is a separate issue.”
“Is it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like the same issue. A woman does her job, turns down the wrong guy, and suddenly she’s the one facing consequences while he gets to keep running his mouth in the locker room.”
Dana’s eyes narrow, but not in anger. More like she’s reassessing something. Considering it from an angle she hadn’t before.
“What exactly are you asking for, Mr. Bishop?”
“I’m asking for a solution that doesn’t destroy Tori’s career.” I hold her gaze. “Reassign her off my case—fine. I get it. Optics matter. But don’t push her out of the organization. Don’t make her pay for something that was as much my doing as hers.”
“And what about you? What consequences are you willing to accept?”
“Whatever you need. A fine. A statement. Sensitivity training.” I almost laugh at that last one. “I’ll sit through a hundred HR seminars if it means Tori keeps her job.”
Dana taps her pen against her desk, thinking. The silence stretches long enough that I start to wonder if I’ve completely miscalculated.
“You care about her,” she says finally. It’s not a question.
“Yeah.” There’s no point in denying it. “I do.”
“Enough to risk your own reputation? Your standing with the team?”
“Enough to be standing in your office at eight in the morning begging you to give her a chance. So yeah. I’d say so.”
There’s another long pause. Dana sets down her pen and folds her hands on the desk.
“Here’s what I can offer. Tori gets reassigned—off your care, effective immediately. James will take over your treatment for the remainder of the season. She stays with the organization, but in a reduced capacity until the noise dies down. No formal disciplinary action goes in her file.”
“What exactly does reduced capacity mean?”
“I’ll move her off the active roster for now. She’ll work with the guys rehabbing long-term injuries, prospects coming through. No road trips. Same pay. Same hours. But a little more behind the scenes.”
Relief floods through me, but I force myself to stay focused. That might work out okay. She’d probably be off Reed’s radar for a little while too. “And after the season?”
“If things have settled, we revisit. I can’t make promises, but I can tell you that I value her work. I don’t want to lose her any more than you do.”
“What about us? Tori and me?”
Dana sighs. “I’m not going to pretend I can control what you do in your personal lives. But I’d strongly suggest keeping things... discreet. At least until the playoffs are over. The last thing any of us needs is more fuel for the rumor mill.”
“I can do discreet.”
“Can you?” She raises an eyebrow. “Because showing up at my office first thing in the morning to plead your case isn’t exactly subtle.”
Fair point.
