Page 70 of See You at the Finish Line

“Being polite is always good.”

“Not always.”

“Tell me when being polite is not good,” I demand, thinking maybe I’ve distracted her.

“If I’m getting mugged, I will not be polite. If a stranger comes to my house and demands entry, even with bribes for my dog, and I do not know his intentions, I don’t have to be polite.”

Stranger. That stings.

“I’m not a stranger,” I say almost to myself, but she hears it.

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Could have fooled me.” She sighs. “What do you want, Adam?”

There’s no way around it. I have to tell her what I came here for, even though I’m regretting it with every fibre of my being. Why do I feel like I’m treading in shark-infested water?

“They’re changing the fraternization rules at work.”

That catches her off guard and the tension in her face eases. “What?”

“The dating rules between coworkers, staff, and players. It’s changing.”

“Okay.” She’s recovered from the unexpected topic and is now more suspicious than before. I should have made something up.

“Staff are no longer allowed to date each other or the players.”

“Massage therapists are technically not staff. Wonder Hands is a subcontracted company that’s affiliated with the team but not under the banner of the Whales.”

“That’s true, but the bylaws will include subcontractors as well.”

She’s silent, processing as I prepare for her next question. One I don’t have an answer for.

“And you had to come to my apartment to tell me this today, why?”

There it is. I don’t know why. She could have found out on Monday like everyone else, but this morning when Whyatt informed us at our coaching meeting, it seemed so important that she know before tomorrow’s race. I fumble for an answer, any answer.

“I thought that since the entire company is going to be at the race tomorrow, including HR, you may want to be careful. I know you’ve spent time with some of the players and staff.”

“How thoughtful of you,” she says, an edge of anger in her voice. I hear how that sounded. Shit.

“Not saying that you’re dating a bunch of people, just that—”

“Just that what?”

“I want to keep you off HR’s radar.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t get in trouble?”

“Why?” she says more forcefully.

“I want you to keep your job,” I blurt out. I can only hold her gaze for a few seconds before I have to look away.

We’re almost at the end of the three-month probationary period, and Maxim has fired one of the therapists. I feel a twinge of guilt that I never learned his name. Paige and Connor are both great, from what I hear, so I don’t want anything negative to affect her job.

---