Page 69 of The Fine Line
She pauses, then softens her voice, like she’s about to deliver a pitch.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking: What’s in this for you?”
Caroline says nothing. Her face is stone.
“Imagine it—” Linda begins, her tone gentle, “you: the daughter of an NHL coach and the wife of a team captain. That’s a story. Caroline Barrett—true hockey woman, born and raised.Loved it so much she chose it as her career and married it for life. It will make headlines on every sports platform and pop culture forum.”
“People will be intrigued by you. Everyone will love you. Your social media following will blow up. You’ll be an inspiration for women in sports. Networks will want your face. Your career in broadcasting will create itself. You’ll be a shoo-in for a commentator role before you know it. This isn’t the end of you. It’s only your beginning?—”
“Let me stop you right there,” Caroline says quietly but firmly. She straightens and looks Linda dead in the eye. And then she lets it fly.
She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t cry. But every word hits like a wrecking ball.
“You said it yourself. Support for women in sports broadcasting is rare. I’m already set up to fail just for being a woman. And despite the fact that I’ve earned every accolade, every opportunity, I still face backlash just for having an NHL coach as a dad.”
She swallows, her voice steady but sharp.
“I’ve fought every day to prove myself. I’ve worked harder than any classmate, crushed every opportunity, given up more nights and weekends than I can count to review games and study stats. And still, people think I don’t deserve even this rinkside reporter position. Imagine what they’d say if I actually became a full-time commentator on a major network.”
She shakes her head.
“And now you want to add this? Announce to the world that I’m involved with the most alluring and wayward player on the team that took a chance on hiring me? Play into every tired, belittling stereotype about women in sports? Shatter the reputation I’ve spent years building?
“You say people will be intrigued. Sure. But they won’t be invested. And maybe they’ll love me—but they won’t respect me.
“My beginning in this industry happened when I was three years old, sitting in the stands learning this game. It’s been a long journey since then. And yes, one day I will be a commentator. But not because of who I’m dating. Because I deserve it.”
Her voice cracks. She resets herself instantly, squaring her shoulders.
“So no, thank you. I don’t want to imagine it. Because it sounds like a nightmare. And I’m far too focused on my dreams to waste energy playing any part in that.”
The room is silent.
Linda stares at her for a long moment, then—without looking away—she shifts her focus to me.
“And what do you think, Rhett?”
Caroline spins toward me. It’s the first time she’s actually looked at me in what feels like forever.
I can’t hold her gaze.
“I…” My throat dries up. “I can’t marry her.”
It’s all I can say. It’s the truth.
I make the mistake of looking at her. Her eyes are burning—not with rage. With something worse.
We stare at each other. Neither of us moves. We both look like we want to throw the white flag, sprint in opposite directions, but there’s nowhere to go. This is it.
Caroline tears her gaze away first. “Okay then,” she says, pushing back from the table. “So now what? How do we make them forget this ever happened?”
“I’m afraid,” Bryan says, “this isn’t a story that’s just going to be forgotten. It will be brought up every time you and Rhett are on screen together, which we can’t avoid.”
She crosses her arms. “So what are you saying?”
Bryan exhales, folding his hands.
“He’s saying,” Amy from HR speaks for the first time, “that if you and Rhett do not accept this proposal… we’re going to have to make other arrangements for you.”
