Page 122 of The Assist
I nod, pulling on my clothes. “Yeah. Just want to get to the rink early. Get my car. Clear my head.”
He sits up, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to,”
“I’m driving,” he says, already up and grabbing his hoodie. It’s not up for debate. Not with him. And I don’t pushit, because truth be told, I’m not ready to be alone either. Not yet.
The drive is quiet. I stare out the window while Dylan drums his fingers against the steering wheel, jaw tight. He pulls into the lot and kills the engine, but I don’t move.
He looks at me. “You sure you want to go in?”
I force a breath. “Yeah.”
He hesitates. “Want me to come with you?”
I shake my head. “No. I just need a minute.”
His eyes search mine. Concern. Sadness. Maybe even guilt. I lean over and kiss his cheek, my lips lingering longer than necessary.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper. “Promise.”
I get out and walk toward the entrance. But I don’t go to the physio room.
I go upstairs to see Mike.
He looks exhausted when I knock and step into his office. “Mia.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “I was going to call you later this morning.”
“I thought I’d save you the trouble,” I say, forcing a polite smile.
He leans back, eyes assessing. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m coping.” I take a breath. “I came to ask for some time off.”
He tilts his head. “I think that’s a good idea.”
I nod, swallowing. “I also came to say that I understand why you’re investigating. Why this is messy. But I need you to hear me when I say this isn’t what it looks like.”
Mike clasps his hands together. “Mia.”
“I’ve read the policy, Mike,” I cut in gently. “The no-fraternisation clause. It’s about using your position to gain advantage or influence. I’m not in a position of authority overDylan. I don’t decide who plays. I don’t even treat him unless he’s referred by Jonno or the medical lead.”
Mike doesn’t interrupt, so I press on, unzipping my bag and sliding a folder across the desk. “I’ve kept logs of every interaction I’ve had with Dylan since his injury,” I say. “Documented referrals. Session durations. Notes countersigned by supervising staff when applicable. It’s all there. No overlaps. No unsupervised post-recovery sessions since he returned to the ice.”
He opens the folder and flips through it, frowning with focus. “I didn’t break protocol,” I add quietly. “I didn’t compromise my ethics. And I sure as hell didn’t manipulate my role for a romantic entanglement.”
He looks up at that, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile but doesn’t dare.
“I know you didn’t,” he says softly. “You’ve always been one of the most meticulous staff members we’ve had. And frankly, I never doubted your integrity.”
My throat tightens. “But?”
“But the optics,” he sighs. “They’re ugly right now. And some of the board, well, they’re panicking.”
“Because I’m not faceless. I’m not a silent staff member in the background. And I’m a woman.” He doesn’t deny it. “I didn’t sign up for this circus, Mike,” I whisper. “I just wanted to do my job. And then I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Don’t punish yourself for that,” he says. “No clause in the world accounts for being human.” A beat passes. “I’ll sign off on your leave,” he says. “Two weeks. More if you need it.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
