Page 58 of Worth the Risk

“You basically just did, Ms. Beauregard.”

“Oh, we’re back to that again, Mr. …”

“Apologies. Hannah. In any case, the coach put you in one hell of a position. I commend you for choosing to remove yourself. May I ask what kind of information he held over your head?”

“You’re assuming it was a male.”

“I’m familiar with the Wolves organization. All of the coaches are male. In fact, other than a couple of female physical therapists, almost the entire coaching and training staff are male. All females working for the Wolves are back office, admin, and marketing.”

I stare at him, nausea overtaking me. “Are you going to report me? Please, please don’t. I’m trying to figure out what to do, and how I can help the other person who is possibly in trouble there. I can’t — I don’t —”

“I’m not reporting you, Hannah. I’m a hockey fan, and I know some people in the organization. I won’t put you in a worse situation than you already are. I can, however, advise you on moving forward. I’d suggest retaining an attorney if you plan to file any criminal charges.”

“I can’t afford an attorney,” I whisper.

“We have an attorney on retainer for the hotel. I’m sure he can help you out. I’ll have him give you a call once you’re cleared with HR.” Dominic says as he begins to slide out of the booth.

“Cleared with HR?”

“Yes. You’re hired, Ms. Beauregard. If you’re available, you can start tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” I shout.

Dominic chuckles, finally showing me a very small smile. Devastatingly handsome with a frown, blindingly gorgeous with a smile. “Seriously. It was a pleasure to chat with you, Hannah. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

As he walks out of the restaurant, I realize he reminds me of Luca. And I’m suddenly overcome with emotion, tears clogging my eyes. I so wish I could reach out to Luca and explain everything. Tell him about my new job. My new apartment. Everything.

But it’s better to keep him out of the crossfire. If I move forward with criminal charges, I don’t want Luca to get caught in the middle.

Luca

“Jesus Christ, Santzy, lighten up a little,” Dawson mutters after I shove him hard into the boards. “This is a fucking practice, not the Cup. Chill.”

No. No I will fucking not lighten up.

I’m pissed at the world.

I really only have myself to blame. Why on earth would I ever think I deserved a shot at love? I’ve made so many bad calls in my life, it’s no wonder the karma train rolled right through and took me the fuck out.

I can’t even look at Woodward. I’m seething mad. My body literally vibrates with animosity whenever he’s near me. I want to wipe the stupid smirk off his face every time I see him. But I can’t.

After texting my agent that I thought I needed out of Denver, he did some digging. They’re definitely shopping around trying to unload me. The GM has reached out to a handful of other teams to see who would be interested in a trade. What’s interesting is how they’re waxing poetic about my skills to other teams, but dragging me through the mud locally. Multiple untrue stories have come out in the media over the last ten days, and Max thinks they’re all coming from in-house. Essentially, Woodward and the GM want to get top dollar for me, and they want the public to turn on me so they’ll welcome whoever comes in to replace me.

Enough with that shit.

I told Max I’m done. I’m fine with going out on my own terms. I don’t want to play elsewhere. The last year has left such a foul taste in my mouth that I don’t even want to play hockey anymore. It’s no longer fun. I’m physically and mentally drained. I don’t want to get traded, possibly to a team a couple thousand miles away from my family, and spend the rest of my career unhappy.

So when I told Max I intended to just fuck up the Wolves chances of making it to the playoffs, he initially laughed, as if it sounded hilarious. Then he realized I was serious. What better way of flipping the bird to your team one last time? Immature? Yes. Warranted? Fuck yes. Because I’ve thought back to how I’ve been slowly ostracized over the past couple of seasons. None of the guys reach out to me anymore. I’ve become the team pariah, through no fault of my own, all due to Woodward’s leadership and coaching. I have no doubt he’s been slowly poisoning the team’s opinion of me. Probably on the down-low, but possibly straight up blackmail. So I figure, what the hell do I have to lose here? Friendships? Nope. A long career? I’ve already had that. A stable environment? That ideal left the building months ago.

Which is how I ended up seeing how many fights I could start in a week. Honestly, I wish I could try to beat the all-time goal of penalty minutes in a single game, which is sixty-seven, but these days, they eject you when you have a handful of penalties. Woodward was furious. When I was ejected twice, he scratched me for a full game. It was obvious why, considering the front page on the Denver Times was about how out of control I was, and what could have possibly set me on this path.

An “unnamed source” said tensions were high in the locker room, and Coach Woodward was “concerned” about my mental stability to continue with the team.

He can take my mental stability and shove it right up his ass.

Penalty minutes may not seem like a big deal, but they are. Especially for a player like me, because I’m lethal from anywhere on the ice. I’m not just a defensemen. I have amazing aim and precision, no matter where I am, and I do an excellent job of protecting my goalie. So not only does it mean the opposing team has a power play without me on the ice, but it also means I’m not out there scoring.

We haven’t won a game since Hannah left me.

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