Page 134 of Player Misconduct
"Wait—are you talking about Kendall?" I call over my shoulder, loud enough that a few heads turn.
Trey glances up, startled. He lowers the phone slightly. "Yeah. Why—wait, you didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
He frowns, pulling the phone away from his ear completely. "About the review. The medical board's doing an inquiry. That's why Dr. Grant's been around."
The words hit like a puck to the chest.
"Theo said it was just for a week," I say, my voice sharper than I mean it to be.
Trey shakes his head slowly. "That's not how I understand it. She's trying to distance herself from the team. Keep the NHL out of it. Avoid sanctions."
My brain scrambles to catch up, piecing together fragments that don't make sense.
She didn't tell me.
She didn't tell me.
I'm out of my seat before I realize I'm moving, stumbling down the narrow aisle toward the front of the plane.
"I have to get off," I tell the flight attendant, my voice tight. "It's an emergency."
She's young, blonde, already halfway through sealing the galley. She blinks at me, startled. "I'm sorry, sir, but the doors are closed. FAA regulations. We're cleared for takeoff."
"I don't care," I say, louder now. "I need to get off this plane."
Behind me, Coach Haynes' voice cuts through the cabin like a blade. "Mäkelin. Sit down."
I turn, chest heaving. "Kendall. I have to get to Kendall. The board's trying to take her license because of that fight."
Coach stands, moving toward me with the calm, measured authority of a man who's seen a thousand meltdowns and knows how to defuse them. He lowers his voice, stepping close enough that the rest of the team can't hear.
"She has lawyers. Hospital counsel. Insurance reps. She's not alone."
"She didn't even tell me this was happening," I say, my voice cracking. "I fucking hit Tarron, and now she could lose everything. Did you know about this?"
His expression softens, just a fraction. "I did. But I figured you did too."
"She's been icing me out."
"Then maybe she needs space to handle it," he says gently. "Don't make this worse for her."
The flight attendant steps forward, her tone firm but not unkind. "Sir, please take your seat. We're about to take off."
I look at Coach, at the attendant, at the sealed door that might as well be a prison wall.
There's no getting off this plane. Not now. Not until we land back in Seattle in four days.
I sink back into my seat, fists clenched against my thighs, jaw locked so tight it aches. My phone's already in my hand, thumbs flying across the screen.
Me:You didn't tell me about the medical board review. Why not?
I stare at the message, willing it to deliver faster, willing her to answer immediately with something that makes sense.
The plane climbs, the cabin tilting as we punch through the low clouds. My phone buzzes just as the signal starts to fade.
Kendall:Please focus on hockey. The board doesn't need to see us together. My lawyer's working on a deal.
