Page 79 of Huge Pucking Play

"His assistant said to go right in," I say, stopping at the imposing double doors.

Cyn nods. Her face is composed, but I catch the quick flutter of her fingers against her thigh—a nervous tell I've noticed since the first night I met her in Vegas.

"Let me do the talking at first," I tell her. "George respects directness."

"And if he says no?" Her voice is steady, but her eyes betray her fear.

"Then we deal with it. Together." I want to touch her shoulder, her hand—anything to reassure her—but I can’t. "No matter what happens in there, you won't face it alone."

Our eyes lock. A moment of understanding passes between us. Then I knock twice and push the door open.

George Corso rises from behind his desk. At sixty-two, he still has the commanding presence that made him a legendary general manager before he bought the team. Silver hair. Sharp eyes. Expensive tailored suit.

"Garrett. Ms. Lockhart." He gestures to the leather chairs facing his desk. "My assistant said it was urgent."

Cyn and I sit. The office smells of leather and the faint citrus of George's cologne.

"It is, George." I don't slouch, don't fidget. "We need to discuss something that affects both the team and our personal lives."

His eyebrows raise slightly, but he leans back, giving me the floor.

"Cynthia and I are seeing each other." Direct, no qualifiers. "It's recent, but serious. We've been discreet and professional at work."

George's face remains neutral, his blue eyes flicking between us.

"This morning, Marjorie threatened to have Cyn fired because of our relationship." My voice stays even, though the memory of Cyn's face when she told me makes my jaw tighten. "She did this in a very unprofessional manner in front of some of our players and another PT."

"I see." George folds his hands on his desk. "And you're coming to me because?"

"Because I respect you and this organization too much for this to become a distraction." I lean forward slightly. "I know there's an unwritten policy about staff relationships. I understand why it exists."

"It exists to prevent exactly this kind of situation," George notes.

"With all due respect, this situation exists because of Marjorie's response, not our relationship." I hold his gaze. "Our work hasn't suffered. The team hasn't suffered."

George turns to Cyn. "Ms. Lockhart? Your perspective?"

She sits straighter. "I take my job here seriously, Mr. Corso. I've never let personal feelings affect my professional judgment, and I never will."

I'm proud of her steadiness, her strength.

"We know this puts you in a difficult position," I continue. "So I want to make something clear." I take a breath. "If one of us has to go, it should be me."

"I've had my career. Championship ring. Good pension. Options. Cyn is just starting her career, and she's brilliant at what she does. The team needs her more than they need another assistant coach."

George studies me, his expression unreadable.

"You'd walk away from coaching? After just getting back in?" he asks.

"For her? Yes." No hesitation.

He nods slowly, eyes moving between us again. "And you, Ms. Lockhart? Would you make the same sacrifice?"

"I—" She falters for the first time.

"She doesn't have to answer that," I interject. "This is my call."

"Actually, it's mine," George says, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. "This is my team. My organization."

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