Page 101 of Off-Limits as Puck

“You can’t know that,” Cara objects.

“She lost her career, her reputation, her relationship with her father. She’s been called everything from a gold-digger to a home-wrecker by people who don’t know her name. Meanwhile,I got traded to a better team with a raise.”

The silence stretches uncomfortably. Patterson drums his fingers against the table, clearly calculating the cost of my honesty against the benefit of continued reputation management.

“The network won’t go easy on you,” he warns finally. “They’ll want ratings. Drama. They’ll try to make you look like either a victim or a predator.”

“Let them try.”

“Reed.” Coach’s voice carries the weight of someone who’s seen too many careers destroyed by ego. “You sure about this? Once you say it, you can’t take it back.”

“I’m sure.”

Three days later, I’m sitting across from Stuart Owens in theSports Centerstudio. The lights are hot, the cameras unforgiving, and somewhere in America, people are about to hear me admit to the biggest mistake and best decision of my professional life.

“Reed Hendrix,” Stuart begins with the kind of smooth authority that makes careers, “six months ago, you were one of hockey’s most controversial players. Tonight, you’re sitting here with the Boston Blizzards, trying to rebuild your reputation. Let’s start with Chicago. What really happened?”

I look directly into the camera, imagining Chelsea somewhere watching this, probably cursing my name for dragging her back into the spotlight.

“I fell in love with my therapist.”

Stuart’s eyebrows rise slightly. He was expecting deflection, damage control, the usual athlete non-answers.

“That’s pretty direct.”

“It’s the truth. Dr. Chelsea Clark was assigned as my mental performance coach after a series of suspensions for fighting. She was brilliant, professional, and completely committed to helping me manage my anger issues.”

“But something changed?”

“Yeah. I changed. Working with her, I started understanding the patterns that led to my violent behavior. Started addressing the family issues and pressure that I’d been ignoring. For the first time in my career, I was playing hockey for the right reasons instead of just trying to survive.”

“And that led to romantic feelings?”

“It led to me realizing she saw something in me worth fixing. That she believed I could be better than my worst moments.” I pause, choosing words carefully. “The professional relationship became personal gradually, over months. It wasn’t some sudden seduction or manipulation. It was two people connecting despite knowing they shouldn’t.”

“But she was your therapist. There are ethical guidelines—”

“There are. And we violated them. Both of us. Equally.” I lean forward, making sure my next words are crystal clear. “But let me be absolutely clear about something—Dr. Clark never used her position inappropriately. If anything, she fought against her feelings longer and harder than I did. She tried to maintain boundaries I kept pushing.”

“You’re saying you pursued her?”

“I’m saying we fell for each other despite every rational reason not to. And when consequences came, she faced them with more dignity than I managed.”

Stuart glances at his notes, probably recalibrating his angle.“There were rumors about your anger management, about whether the relationship affected your therapy...”

“The relationship made my therapy more effective, not less. Working with Chelsea—Dr. Clark—I had the best statistical season of my career. Lowest penalty minutes, highest scoring output, best team chemistry rating. She made me a better player by making me a better person.”

“Until it all fell apart.”

“Until things got taken out of context. There’s a difference.”

“Do you regret it?”

The question I’ve been asked a dozen different ways by therapists, teammates, family. The one I’ve never answered honestly because honesty feels like betrayal—of Chelsea’s sacrifice, of the team’s investment, of the image everyone’s trying to rebuild.

“I regret how it ended. I regret the cost to her career, to her reputation, to her relationship with her father. I regret that she’s faced consequences that were disproportionate to mine.” I meet Stuart’s eyes. “But I don’t regret falling in love with someone who saw the best version of me and demanded I live up to it.”

“That’s a romantic way to put it.”

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