Page 136 of Player Misconduct
When we finally land, everyone’s exhausted and ready to recoup at home. I grab my duffel and head straight for the parking lot, phone in hand, checking for messages that aren't there.
Just the same unanswered thread, the sameReadreceipts, the same suffocating silence.
I get in my car and head for The Commons, because what else am I supposed to do? Go to her apartment in the middle of the night and bang on the door until she lets me in? Show up at the house she's refusing to move into and camp out on the porch like some lovesick idiot?
Yes,part of me screams.Do all of that. Fight for her.
But the other part—the part that remembers the look on her face in the hallway after I broke Tarron’s nose, the way shepulled away from me in her office, the careful, clinical distance in her texts—that tells me to give her space.
To trust that she knows what she's doing.
Even if it's killing me. Even if it’s the opposite of everything my gut is screaming at me to do.
The next morning, I head in for practice. Players are already getting their gear on.
My phone buzzes in my locker.
I glance at it, heart leaping stupidly, then sinking when I see it's not her.
It's Vivi.
Vivi:How are you holding up?
I type back quickly.
Me:Not great. Have you talked to her?
Vivi:A little. She's scared, Aleksi. And stubborn. Give her time.
Time.
Everyone keeps saying that word like it's the solution.
But time doesn't fix anything if she won't let me near her.
I'm halfway to the ice when Penelope intercepts me in the hallway.
"Mäkelin," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "How are you doing?"
I stop, slinging my stick over my shoulder. "I'm fine."
She arches a brow. "You look like hell."
"Rough week."
"Rough month, more like." She crosses her arms, studying me with that sharp, assessing GM gaze that misses nothing. "You talked to her?"
"She's not talking to me."
Penelope sighs, glancing around to make sure we're alone. "She's trying to protect you."
"I know," I say, my voice tight. "She told me her lawyer's working out a deal. What does that mean?"
Penelope hesitates, and I see the moment she decides to tell me the truth.
"It means she's offering to surrender her license quietly. No contest. As long as the board keeps the NHL out of it."
The words land like a punch.
