He sits on the couch, and his presence fills the room the way his presence fills a crease, quiet and immovable. Talia comes to me instead. Her hand closes gently around my arm.
One squeeze.
"I told my dad," she says, low enough that it is only for me, "that someone on the team has a safety concern and needs theprogram's support. He didn't ask questions. He said the rink is a safe space and his office door is open."
Safety concern. Open door.
My eyes sting for the first time all day.
Gio arrives with his laptop and Zoë behind him. He sets the laptop on the table and turns it before he even sits.
"I pulled his public records," Gio says. "Parole terms. They're accessible through the state corrections database. I had a research contact verify where to find them."
He turns the screen toward me.
"His parole conditions include a geographic restriction. He's supposed to be within the Western Massachusetts jurisdiction. His approved residence is Springfield. Briarcliff is a hundred miles east. Even visiting would require approval from his parole officer."
The refrigerator hum sharpens in the silence.
"He's violating parole by being here?" Cole asks.
"If these conditions are current, yes," Gio says. "This is the fastest path. If he's in violation, his PO can issue a warrant. He goes back. No trial. No waiting for a protective order."
"How do we confirm the conditions are current?" Dante asks.
Dante's gaze stays on the screen, locked on the condition that can move fastest.
"Richard can verify through the DA's office," I say. "Send everything to Richard. The parole terms, the geographic restriction, Gio's research. Richard files Monday. If the violation is confirmed, the timeline accelerates."
Genny comes in behind them, takes one look at the room, and goes straight to the kitchen. No questions. No dramatic gasp. Just the kettle, a mug, the right tea, the right temperature. When she sets it in front of me, my hand curls around the ceramic before I can decide whether I want it.
"I'll have the Title IX report filed by morning," Clara says. "Between that and Adrian's Addison call, he'll be flagged campus-wide before the game tomorrow."
"I have the vehicle," Gio says, typing. "Massachusetts registration. 2019 Honda Accord. Silver."
"Send it to Adrian," I say. "Adrian sends it to Addison. Addison sends it to campus security."
I hear myself directing. Names, tasks, documents, contacts. The room follows my voice.
"Maya."
Dante's voice cuts through the motion of the room.
It's the first time he's spoken in twenty minutes. He's been leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, one thumb pressed hard into the opposite palm.
"Yeah."
His eyes hold mine. "You're running this."
"I'm running this."
"Good."
I breathe, and the tea stays level in my mug.
The evening breaks into messages, mugs, and the low murmur of people doing what they promised.
Adrian texts Addison. Addison's response comes back in four minutes.
