Page 61 of Huge Pucking Play

As soon as he's gone, I sink onto the treatment table for just a moment. My hands, steady through the entire session, now tremble slightly. I straighten my ponytail, smooth my polo, and take a deep breath. Whatever Marjorie wants, I'll handle it professionally. This job means everything to me.

I walk quickly to Marjorie’s office and knock on her closed door.

I hear her yell out something and assume she wants me to enter.

She doesn't invite me to sit, but I do anyway, folding myself into the uncomfortable chair across from her. The clock on the wall ticks loudly.

"You wanted to see me?" I keep my voice professional, neutral.

She shuffles papers, taking her time before looking up. Her glasses hang from a chain around her neck, and she deliberately places them on her nose, peering at me over the rims.

"How are you finding your position with the Blades, Ms. Lockhart?" The question sounds like a trap.

"It's going well. The players are responding to the treatment protocols, and?—"

She cuts me off, folding her hands on the desk. "Tell me about your understanding of professional boundaries."

My stomach drops. I keep my face carefully blank. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think you do." She leans forward. Her red lips twist into something between a smile and a grimace. "Your relationship with Coach Hughes is inappropriate and unacceptable."

The accusation lands like a slap. I feel heat rush to my face but force myself to hold her gaze.

"Coach Hughes and I maintain a professional relationship." The words sound hollow even to me.

"Please." She practically spits the word. "I know what I'm seeing."

My heart hammers against my ribs. How much does she know? Garrett and I have been so careful. We are always professional at work.

"I've noticed the looks. The 'coincidental' meetings in the break room." She ticks off points on her fingers. "The way you light up when he enters a room. The private conversations that stop when someone approaches." She pauses, eyes narrowing. "And I’ve been informed by a player that something happened on the away trip to Denver."

I swallow hard. Stupid, stupid, stupid. That was careless.

"Workplace relationships happen," I say, hating how defensive I sound.

"Not in my department." She removes her glasses, letting them dangle. "Do you have any idea of the ethical violations here? He's part of the coaching staff. You're the treating therapist for his players. The conflict of interest alone is grounds for dismissal."

My hands clench in my lap. She's right, and I know it.

"I assure you my treatment decisions are based solely on medical considerations," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"That's not the point." She slaps her palm on the desk. "Perception matters in professional sports. What happens when a player believes his treatment is influenced by hiscoach's...pillow talk?" She makes the phrase sound filthy. "Or when another staff member feels passed over because you have special access?"

Each word burrows under my skin. These are the exact fears that keep me awake at night, even as I fall deeper for Garrett.

"I've haven’t spoken with HR about the situation yet." She straightens papers that don't need straightening. "As of now, this is still between us. I'm giving you one chance."

I wait for it, the guillotine blade hanging over me.

"End it with Coach Hughes immediately, or you're fired." Her voice is ice. "No severance. No references."

The room seems to tilt slightly. My career, everything I've worked for, balanced against—what? A relationship that's only months old?

"I shouldn't have to remind you of the investment the organization has made in you," she continues. "Or how difficult it would be to find another position in professional sports with a termination for ethical violations on your record."

I open my mouth, but no words come out. What can I possibly say?

"I'll need your decision by the end of the week." She puts her glasses back on and returns to the papers on her desk. "That's all, Ms. Lockhart."

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