Page 55 of Off-Limits as Puck

“Team photographer. Don’t worry, I killed them before they could hit social media. But Chelsea, people noticed. Board members. Other staff. Your father.”

My stomach drops. “My father saw?”

“He asked me if there was ‘a situation’ he should be aware of.” She sits in my client chair, suddenly looking tired. “I told him you were simply being professional with a challenging client. He didn’t look convinced.”

I sink into my own chair, head in my hands. “Maddy, I swear nothing is happening.”

“Present tense. What about past tense?”

I look up, meeting her knowing gaze. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth would be nice.”

“The truth?” I laugh, but it sounds hysterical. “The truth is I’m losing my mind. The truth is I can’t stop thinking about someone who’s completely wrong for me. The truth is I’m sabotaging everything I’ve worked for over a man who—”

“Who looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“What?”

“Last night. When you were dancing. I’ve never seen Hendrix look at anyone like that. Like you were...” She pauses, searching for words. “Like you were the only real thing in a room full offakes.”

“Maddy—”

“And you looked at him the same way.”

I stand abruptly, pacing to the window. Below, the team is arriving for morning skate. I spot Reed immediately. He’s early as always lately, gear bag slung over his shoulder, moving with that athlete’s grace that makes my mouth dry.

“It doesn’t matter how we look at each other,” I say quietly. “It can’t happen.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t know anymore.”

Maddy joins me at the window, following my gaze. “Jake seems nice.”

“He is nice. He’s perfect on paper. Appropriate, stable, professionally suitable.”

“Chelsea, can I be brutally honest?”

“When are you not?” I tease.

“You’re going to blow this up. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. The tension between you two is unsustainable.” She turns to face me. “So you have two choices. End it now—really end it, transfer him to another therapist, stop the dance you’re doing. Or...”

“Or?”

“Or admit what you want and deal with the consequences like adults.”

“The consequences would destroy my career.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re using that as an excuse because you’re terrified of what would really happen.” She smiles. “You being happy.”

She leaves me with that bomb, closing the door quietly behind her. I stand at the window, watching Reed disappear into the building, and try to remember how to breathe.

The morning passes in a blur of sessions with other players. I’m professional, helpful, completely present. No one would guess I’m dying inside, that every word feels like lies, that I keep checking my phone for messages that won’t come.

At lunch, I brave the cafeteria instead of hiding in my office. I need normalcy, need to prove I can exist in the same building as Reed without combusting. I’m doing fine—chatting with the nutritionist about meal plans, laughing at appropriate moments—when I feel it.

That pull. That magnetic awareness that tells me he’s nearby.

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