Page 109 of Lighting the Lamp
“Wow,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “The cavalry has arrived.”
Alycia quirks a brow. “More like the babysitters.”
“Babysitters? Please. I fed myself breakfast this morning and everything.”
The slip of amusement escapes before she can smother it, and Janine shoots her a look, though the corner of her own mouth betrays her, too.
“Glad to see you’re in such good spirits,” Janine says dryly, setting her folder down on the table. “Here’s what you need to know: The public line is that this was an amicable separation. Coach Mercer is pursuing new opportunities.”
“And the truth?” Cooper asks, his voice flat as steel.
“We terminated his contract for cause. His remaining salary is being forfeited to the NHL Foundation. He doesn’t see it as his fault, and he’s not happy about how this was handled. He’ll be here to collect his things, and security is on standby to make sure things don’t escalate.”
“Civilized,” I mutter, drumming my fingers against the arm of the chair. “Love that for us.”
Janine cuts me a look over the rim of her glasses. “Try. Just once. No sarcasm.”
“That’s a medical impossibility,” I say, and Alycia coughs to cover another laugh.
“Rule one: No contact. Do not engage emotionally, physically, or verbally.” Janine makes eye contact with me fora moment before continuing to flip through her checklist. “Rule two: If he attempts to bait you, you will not take it. Rule three: This is just a formality, and then we’re finished with him.”
“Finished,” Cooper repeats, like he’s tasting the word.
The air shifts before the door opens, like static before a storm. Then the handle slams back, and Mercer storms in, a banker’s box tucked under one arm. His eyes sweep the room, sharp and hungry, looking for the weakest throat to sink his teeth into.
“Well, isn’t this rich?” he sneers. “The Hendrix boys and their entourage.”
“You’re here to collect your things,” Cooper says, calm and even, though his jaw ticks.
“Collect my things.” Mercer snorts, tossing a box onto the desk. “That’s cute. You let the league suspend me, drag my name through the mud, and then want me to slink back in here like some washed-up criminal. Meanwhile, you get to stay the golden untouchable Cooper Hendrix. The man who does no wrong. Did you even let my chair get cold before you slid into it?”
Cooper doesn’t take the bait, his face remaining as calm and steady as stone. He stands to his full height as Mercer’s eyes cut to me. “And look who’s still standing, at least for now. The mask isn’t just for the ice, is it?”
Heat climbs my throat, my fists curling tight. The words scrape against my ribs because he doesn’t know, but he’s close enough to make it burn.
“Everyone can see the cracks. It’s only a matter of time. You’re one slip away from falling apart, and when you do, they’ll call you a fraud.”
Before I can speak, a sharp clatter breaks the tension, and Alycia jumps to her feet. Her chin is high, her voice cutting through the air. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”
Mercer turns, amused. “Oh? The intern has claws?”
“He’s not a liability. He’s the reason this team still stands. He shows up. Every time.” Her voice is sharp and steady, and it slices through Mercer’s venom. “That’s more than I can say for someone who can’t even leave with dignity.”
Mercer falters, just for a second, and then his grin twists. “Cute. You’ve got them all drinking the Kool-Aid. Just like Michele.”
The name detonates in the air. It slams into me like a stick to the ribs, knocking the breath clean out of my lungs. My gut knots so hard I double down on the armrest of the chair, nails biting into the leather. Across from me, Cooper goes statue-still. Shoulders locked, jaw set, and his eyes have gone flat and cold in a way I’ve only ever seen once before. His silence is louder than Mercer’s voice, a barricade built out of rage he refuses to unleash.
Even Alycia flinches, though she doesn’t know the story behind his comment, but she knows a live wire when she hears one. Her pen hand trembles once, then steadies on the table, knuckles white.
Janine’s eyes cut sharply over the rim of her glasses. For a heartbeat, she’s not the composed head of the Timberwolves PR department; she’s furious, like a mother watching someone spit on her kid. Then she blinks, and the mask resets, but the steel lingers in her voice when she says, “Watch yourself.”
“She was supposed to bemydaughter,” Mercer hisses, leaning forward, voice cracking with the rawness of it. “Myblood. But no, she chose you people. She chose Cole. She chose your family over me. You took her from me, and now you’ll pay. Every last one of you.”
The venom drips off every word, but Cooper doesn’t flinch as he steps forward, tone sharp as steel. “You’ll be lucky if you can get a job coaching peewee hockey after the way you’ve acted. Youshould be grateful we framed it as amicable, not that you were fired for being a child.”
Mercer lifts his chin, but Janine is already on her feet and shoves a document into his chest.
“Per the termination letter you received yesterday at 3:07 p.m.,” she says, “your access has been revoked. Your keycard has been deactivated. You’ve signed a mutual non-disparagement and a facility no-trespass agreement. You are here for your personal items only. If you deviate, two building security officers will escort you to the nearest exit.” She tips her head toward the door, where two very large men in polo shirts have materialized like summoned golems. “This is not a negotiation.”
