Page 122 of Player Misconduct
Toast, lightly buttered. Scrambled eggs I don't want but force myself to eat anyway. Coffee I pour but won't finish, because the baby has opinions about caffeine and heartburn and my ability to keep anything down past noon.
I sit at the tiny table—the one I bought secondhand when I first moved to Seattle, the one with the wobbly leg I keep meaning to fix—and stare at the food like it's a test I'm failing.
"You have to eat, Doc. Two mouths, one stomach."
Aleksi's voice in my head, warm and teasing, the way he always sounds when he's trying to make me take care of myself.
I hate that he's right. I hate that it makes me smile, even now, even through the tears I'm too stubborn to let fall.
I force down a few bites, chewing mechanically, tasting nothing. The eggs are dry. The toast is bland. Everything feels like cardboard, like my body is rejecting the act of trying to be okay when nothing is.
Niko kicks—sharp, insistent—and I press my hand to the spot.
"I know," I murmur. "I'm trying."
My phone buzzes.
Once. Twice. A cascade of vibrations that makes the table shake.
I ignore it at first, but the buzzing doesn't stop. It builds, relentlessly, until I can't pretend anymore.
I reach for it, unlock the screen, and my stomach drops.
Notifications explode across the display—texts, emails, social media alerts, all of them screaming for attention.
Photos from the tunnel.
Headlines:"Hawkeyes' Aleksi Mäkelin Defends Pregnant Team Doctor in Tunnel Brawl."
Another:"Love Triangle Scandal Brewing Between Team Doctor and NFL Ex."
A third:"Mystery Baby Daddy Drama: Who's the Father?"
There are screenshots of Tarron being escorted out, his face bloody, his expression twisted with rage. There are close-ups of me—my hand on my belly, my face pale, my eyes wide with something that looks too much like fear.
And there are photos of Aleksi—jaw locked, fist still clenched, his body angled between me and the cameras like a shield.
He protected me, and now I have only one chance to protect him. I need to create distance between us. Save Aleksi’s career if I take my punishment and go quietly- giving up my license.
It’s the only choice I have at this point.
Last night, Penelope agreed to “lay me off” putting me on maternity leave. As of this moment, I no longer work for the team. We’re hoping the distance and my face no longer being associated with the team, will slow down the gossip and maybe the board will look the other way.
It’s not a great plan, but it was the only few thoughts we could come up with in the middle of the press hurricane last night.
I have to do whatever I can to protect him, but I know that if I tell him my plan, he won't agree to it. He won't agree to more space in order to save his career. I know now what I didn’t know when I found out that I was pregnant and I thought he had a girlfriend–he would have dropped everything for me.
If the last few months have told me anything, it’s that Aleksi won’t stop protecting me, no matter what.
And now it's my turn to do the same.
My phone dings with the email I’ve been quietly expecting all morning.
National Medical Sports Board Inquiry – Notice of Review
My vision blurs. I read it once, then again, my brain struggling to make the words stick.
"…we are opening a preliminary ethics review based on recent media reports regarding your conduct with Seattle Hawkeyes personnel…"
