Page 17 of Offside Secrets
“And?”
“And he works for me. There are rules about these things.”
“As you have told me since I got here, there areguidelinesabout these things,” Elle corrects. “And plenty of successful relationships that started in the workplace. Look at me and Dixon.”
“Both of you are professional athletes who had a history.” I roll my eyes.
“But, I was his coach when he finally admitted feelings.” She levels her gaze. “If that won’t work, then let’s look at Anna and Ollie.”
I sigh. Yes, another good example. “First, Anna started out as a personal assistant for Ben, so while she had some connection to the team, it was a more natural flow for her and Ollie. They’d been friends for years before Ollie even made the Renegades…plus, Anna doesn’t own the team Ollie plays for.”
“Excuses.” Elle shrugs. “Look, power dynamics exist everywhere. The question is whether you trust each other to handle it like adults.”
I think about the other night. The way Campbell looked at me when my car started, the careful way he texted afterward, the battery research he definitely didn’t need to do.
“He’s younger than me,” I say weakly.
“By what, four or five years?”
“He’s got a lot going on at home, too. We all know his dad has rheumatoid arthritis, and the medical bills are killing them. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here complaining about leaguecommissioners while driving a car that costs more than most people make in a year.”
Elle sets down her coffee, her expression turning serious. “Sutton, has it occurred to you that maybe Campbell doesn’t see those things as barriers? That maybe he sees them as reasons to work harder, to be better?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, from what I’ve observed, Campbell Stockton is ambitious. He wants to be the best, he wants security for his family, and he wants to prove himself. Dating the owner of his current team wouldn’t exactly hurt those goals.”
My stomach drops. “You think he’s using me?”
“No.” Elle’s voice is firm as she crosses her eyes and tries not to laugh. “That’s not what I meant at all. I think he’s a guy who sees an opportunity to be with someone amazing, and he’s not letting circumstances talk him out of it. To me, the real question is: are you going to let circumstances talkyouout of it?”
I stare at the strategy charts on her wall, thinking about Campbell’s hands on my car battery, his text messages, the way he made helping me seem effortless.
“The gala is next week,” I say half-joking, but also Elle’s got me along for the ride, so it’s a half ‘what if’ as well. At this point, I can’t tell if I’m humoring her or actually considering it.
“The one where the board expects you to bring a date?”
“Harold practically demanded it. Something about presenting a ‘complete picture’ to the sponsors.”
“Well, well, well.” Elle grins. “If you need to take someone with you, I know a guy.”
“Elle. No. I was being facetious.”
“Campbell cleans up nice. He’s charming, he knows hockey, and he clearly doesn’t mind helping you out of tough situations. Plus, showing up with your captain would send a pretty strong message about team unity.”
“The players aren’t usually invited, this isn’t their scene.”
“Players are like a really good purse. We all have our regular handbags—some are old and worn out, others we treat like royalty—but every now and then, it just feels good to bring out the fancy one. You know, the bag that says‘I’ve got my life together, and maybe a private jet, too.’”Elle lifts her shoulders, and lets them drop. “Honestly, I don’t see the issue. It’s a little dash of PR strategy, mixed in with a little goodwill, and it all gives the community a reminder that the Renegades aren’t just a business, they’re a team.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re relentless.”.
“I’m practical. And I’m sure you’re also thinking that I’m right.” She stands, gathering her gear, pleased with herself. “Are you brave enough to ask him?”
As we leave her office, I catch sight of myself in the reflection of the trophy case in the hallway. Shoulders a little tight, hair slightly messy, face probably carrying more “I’ve been cornered all day” than I’d like. First the league, now my own conflicted feelings—yeah, I look it. But hey, there’s still a spark in my eyes, a hint that I’m plotting my next move, and if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I meant to look this frazzled. I’ll tell them this is my “intentionally frazzled” look. Fierce, frazzled, and fabulous.
Maybe it’s time to stop letting other people decide what’s appropriate for me.
Maybe it’s time to take a chance.
