Page 126 of Slap Shot Scandal
My entire body burns with humiliation as the words scroll past.
I thought I could handle this, all of it.
I was so, so wrong.
“Close the door behind you.” His voice is cold, all traces of the friendly boss gone.
I shut the heavy door and take the seat he offers.
“I don’t need to explain to you how bad this is.”
Resisting the urge to scrunch my eyes shut, I shake my head. “No, sir. You do not.”
“To say I’m disappointed is the biggest understatement of the year. All I want—all I ever wanted—was a winning fucking season. Clean, scandal-free. What I got was this circus. And from Coach Doug Hayes’s daughter, no less.My PR consultant sleeping with the captain of my team.” He frowns, and my stomach knots so tight it hurts.
He holds up his hands. “Don’t deny nor confirm that statement. Plausible deniability. I don’t want to know.”
The truth burns like poison as I simmer in my shame and regret. Prince folds his arms over his starched dress shirt, his frown lines deeper than ever.
“This has gone beyond distraction, Harbor. I can’t have?—”
I feel the words hovering in the air, the finality in his tone.
“You don’t need to say it.” I swallow over the lump in my throat, my breath catching as I fight back tears.
The team needs a clean slate. Weston needs a chance to be the captain without scandal hanging over him. This isn’t just about preserving my dignity—I need to save Weston’s career from the wreckage I created.
Prince blinks at me as I rise, straightening my shoulders.
“I’ll resign, effectively immediately. But please let me tell the team. I owe them that much.”
He huffs out a sigh. “Fine. Draft a statement to the press, while you’re at it. Get it to me within the hour.”
“Will do.” Twisting my bracelets, I walk over to the door with as much dignity as I can muster.
“Harbor—”
I pause at the door. “You did good work. But sometimes that’s not enough.”
Biting my lip, I nod. “It’s not about the work anymore.”
Then I leave before he can say anything else.
CHAPTER 35
WESTON
I’m running drills at practice with Morrison when I spot Prince talking to Keller at the boards. I pause for a beat, caught off-guard, and the puck whizzes past me into the net.
“Goal!” Ford pumps a fist in the air, and I curse under my breath.
Distracted.
I’ve been distracted the entire off-season. Ever since Harbor rolled onto the scene.
All I think about is her.
Where hockey used to take up 95% of my brain, now it’s Harbor Hayes.
