“I’m taking you to dinner. We’re figuring this out.”
“Roman, I really don’t think that’s agood idea.”
“Not negotiating on this, Marnie.”
I head for the door, then turn back.
“And for the record? I don’t care about careful. I care about you. The rest we’ll figure out.”
I leave before she can argue, before I can see the fear in her eyes that makes me want to promise things I’m not sure I can deliver.
But I meant what I said.
I’m not pretending this isn’t happening.
Barrett’s officeis exactly what I expected—game footage on multiple screens, whiteboards covered in X’s and O’s, coffee cups from three different days.
“Cap.” He gestures to a chair. “Shut the door.”
I do, already running through possible reasons for this meeting. The power play excuse was obviously Brody’s invention.
“Your shoulder held up well last night,” Barrett says, leaning back in his chair.
“Feels good. No issues.”
“Good. Because we need you. But that’s not why you’re here.”
I wait.
“Dr. Walker,” he says simply.
I clench my fists. “What about her?”
“Winters came to me this morning. Says there’s been ‘unprofessional conduct’ between you two.” He makes air quotes, and I can hear the skepticism in his voice. “Wanted me to reprimand her. Possibly suspend.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I know.” He clicks through more footage. “Which is why I’m talking to you instead of her. Because if Winters is making this an issue, we need to handle it before it becomes a problem.”
“There’s nothing to handle.”
“Roman.” He looks at me directly. “I don’t care who you’reseeing. Your personal life is your business. But if it affects the team, it becomes mine.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t it?” He pulls up footage from last night’s game. “You looked at that booth seven times during the second period. Three times during the third. Every time you came off the ice, you checked to see if she was watching.”
“So?”
“So you’re distracted. And distracted captains make mistakes.”
“I scored two goals.”
“You also took a penalty in the third because you weren’t paying attention to your positioning.” He leans forward. “Look, I’m not telling you to stop seeing her. I’m telling you to figure out how to compartmentalize. On the ice, you’re the captain. Off the ice, do whatever you want. But those seven times you looked at the booth? That’s when you’re neither.”
The assessment lands harder than I want to admit.
“Understood,” I say.
