Brian watches our exchange with sympathy, which surprises me. "For what it's worth, I'd be happy for you two in another timeline. But right now, we need to be strategic."
"I'll send you the Out Sports questions later today," he continues, standing to leave. "And Alder—no more public appearances with Dr. Sinclair until we get this under control. Adam's looking for any angle to undermine you."
After Brian leaves, Lena and I sit in painful silence. Gordie whines from his bed, sensing the tension.
"I'm sorry," I finally say. "I didn't think Adam would go this far."
"It's not your fault," she replies, moving to check on Gordie. "He's playing dirty. That's on him, not you."
As I watch her gently care for my dog, her hands sure despite our difficult conversation, I'm struck by how quickly she's become essential to my life. The thought of her leaving—of going back to being just colleagues who nod politely in hallways—is like a physical ache.
"I'll help you look for apartments," I offer, moving to join her beside Gordie, who licks my hand. "Maybe there's something in this neighborhood that would work for your budget."
She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you. That would be helpful."
We sit silently for a moment, both petting Gordie, our hands occasionally brushing. Each touch feels precious now, knowing they're numbered.
"This doesn't change anything about how I feel," I say quietly. "About last night. About you."
She meets my eyes, vulnerability and regret mingling in her expression. "I know. But sometimes feelings aren't enough, are they?"
I don't have an answer for that because she's right. In the real world—our world of professional sports, public scrutiny, and manipulative exes—sometimes what we want takes a backseat to what's necessary.
Our hands touch again as we both stroke Gordie's fur, and neither of us pulls away. It's a small rebellion, but it's all we have right now.
CHAPTER 25
LENA
My fingers hoverover the keyboard, and the same apartment listing I've been staring at for ten minutes is still open on my screen. The rent is too high, the location is too far from work, and judging by the carefully cropped photos, the bathroom probably hasn't been updated since the 1970s.
I close the tab with a sigh and lean back in my office chair. After yesterday's conversation with Alder and Brian's blunt assessment of our situation, my apartment search has taken on new urgency and produced even more stressful results.
No more half-hearted browsing. I need to find my own place—soon. Maybe I need to look at the suburbs…
The thought squeezes my heart as I consider how much further that would put me from Alder and, truly, his entire family.
A knock at my door interrupts my thoughts. I quickly switch to the dental records I should be reviewing and call, "Come in."
Coach Thompson enters, his imposing figure filling the doorway. "Dr. Sinclair. Got a minute?"
"Of course." I straighten in my chair, fighting the irrational fear that he somehow knows I was apartment hunting instead of working. "What can I do for you?"
He settles into the chair across from my desk, his expression unreadable. "Just checking in on mouthguard progress. I’m hearing that some of the guys are refusing to wear them.”
I nod. “Yeah. And I swear I advised them otherwise. They insist some nonsense about rites of passage…”
Thompson groans. “I really had hoped that mindset would change from my day in the game. We really don’t need to be fishing teeth from inside the Zamboni.” He shakes his head, then fixes me with a direct look. "And how are you settling in with the team? Any... concerns I should be aware of?"
The careful emphasis makes my stomach clench. Is this another warning about the fraternization policy?
"Everything's going smoothly," I say, keeping my voice professional. "The equipment is excellent, and everyone's been very welcoming."
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Glad to hear it. You've been a good addition to the staff, Dr. Sinclair. I'd hate to see anything interfere with that. There’s a strong pool of trauma dentists in this city…”
The message couldn't be clearer: Don't mess this up.
"I appreciate that, Coach." I manage a smile. "I value this position very much."
