I do both. The chair across from her desk is uncomfortable—hard plastic, no cushion. I’ve sat in it before, during my initial interview and quarterly reviews. It’s never felt this much like an interrogation.
Dana finally looks up, her expression neutral and professional, but there’s something in her eyes that makes my chest tight. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”
“Okay.”
“Is there something going on between you and Zayden Bishop?”
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. I think about lying, about all the ways I could spin this, minimize it, make it sound like nothing. But Dana hired me because she trusted me, and I’ve never lied to her before.
“We haven’t—” I start, then stop. I try again. “Nothing has happened that compromises my work. His treatment has been completely by the book. Every protocol followed, every session documented, every decision based purely on his medical needs.”
Dana’s expression doesn’t change. “That’s not what I asked.”
I know it’s not. I was hoping she’d let me get away with it anyway. She doesn’t.
“I need you to be honest with me.”
I take a breath. “There’s… something,” I admit, and the words feel like glass in my throat. “I don’t know what to call it. But yes. There’s something.”
Dana leans back in her chair, and for a long moment, she just looks at me. I can’t read her thoughts. Disappointment? Anger? Resignation? All three?
“How long?”
“A few weeks. Maybe longer, depending on how you count.” I twist my hands in my lap. “It started during the road trips. Proximity, I guess. And then it just… kept happening.”
“Have you slept with him?”
My head snaps up. “Excuse me?”
Dana’s expression doesn’t waver. “It’s a straightforward question.”
“It’s aninvasivequestion.” The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take them back.
“I’m asking because I need to know what we’re dealing with. If this is just flirtation, that’s one thing. If it’s gone further—”
“It hasn’t.” My face is burning—embarrassment, anger, and the sheer audacity of being interrogated about something so personal. “No, I haven’t slept with him.”
The word hangs there, ugly and raw. I’ve never felt more vulnerable—in front of my boss, no less.
Dana sighs—a long, heavy exhale that seems to carry the weight of every similar conversation she’s probably had in her career. “I believe you about maintaining professional boundaries during his treatment. You’re good at your job, Tori.One of the best I’ve ever hired. I’ve never had a reason to question your judgment before now.”
“But?”
“But this league runs on optics. It doesn’t matter what actually happened; it matters what people think happened. And right now, people think you’re sleeping with one of our star players.” I flinch, because hearing it out loud makes it sound so much worse. “If this becomes a story,” Dana continues, “it won’t just reflect on you. It will reflect on the whole program. On me. On every woman who’s ever tried to build a career in sports medicine without being reduced to someone’s girlfriend or conquest.”
“I know.” Tears sting my eyes, and my voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I know that.”
“Do you?” Dana is quiet for a moment, then stands, walks to the window, and stares out at the parking lot. “I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. You’re an adult. You’re allowed to make your own choices, even the messy ones.”
“But?”
She turns around. “But I need you to make a choice. Him or your career here. Because you can’t have both. Not without consequences.”
The words land like a blow to the chest. I knew this was coming—somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve known since the first time he kissed me that this moment was inevitable. But knowing it and hearing it are very different things.
“What kind of consequences?”
“Well, it’s not entirely up to me, I need to run this up the chain of command. But if this becomes public—and it will becomepublic; these things always do—you’ll be reassigned. Off his care, obviously. Probably off the team entirely. I’ll do my best to find you a position somewhere else in the organization, assuming you’re open to relocation, but I can’t promise it’ll be anything close to what you have now.”
