Page 46 of Shattered On Ice

Westin is having trouble performing at practice? This is bad. I knew he was messed up about what happened, and refusing to talk about why he’d reacted so violently was only going to hurt him in the long run, but I never expected it to manifest physically in this way.

I shake my head. It doesn't matter. I can't treat him. It would be a conflict of interest because I’ve slept with him—and would like to continue doing so—but how do I decline without Coach Kennedy asking questions?

And if Westin requested me, it means he needs me in an entirely different capacity, and I can’t leave him in a crisis. I have to help him any way I can if he’s open to working through this trauma. I don't have a good enough reason to turn down the offer on ethical grounds without revealing the truth, which would explode way more bombs than simply agreeing to this now will.

My heart squeezes as my stomach turns. I have to accept it to protect our secret, even if that means locking myself in an ethical trap and killing the part of me that is falling in love with the man who will now be my patient.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” I agree, feeling the trap spring shut, locking me away from one of my greatest sources of joy and comfort.

“Thank you for agreeing. We’ll send over the non-disclosure agreement shortly, and we’ll let you be the judge of when he’s fit to play again. I can't have wild cards on the ice. It’s an injury waiting to happen, and I care about my players too much to allow that.”

When I end the call with Coach Kennedy, I stare blankly at the wall for what feels like hours, silently wondering how this could have happened.

My phone vibrating on my desk finally snaps me out of my stupor, and I listlessly pick it up.

Callum: Did you know Luscious is having a theme night next weekend? We should go! It’s Gays and Dolls, which is based on one of my favorite musicals, and also the perfect excuse to dress up in this cute new outfit I have.

Callum: You would make an incredible Adelaide, by the way. Have you ever done drag? Your bone structure is DIVINE.

I slowly type back my reply, as a tear slips down my cheek. Callum is the one person who knows the truth of my situation with Westin. Maybe I can talk through this with him. I have no one else.

Knight: Can we meet up? I need to talk and could really use a hug.

His message comes through seconds later.

Callum: Of course, honey! I’m on your side of town, anyway. I’ll come over. Be there in fifteen.

I stare numbly while I wait, my mind spiraling over what I just lost. When Callum knocks, it takes everything to simply walk to the door. My feet leaden bricks, weighing down every step. I can't even stand straight, the mental load bending my back until I feel hunched.

“This is a cute neighborhood, but the houses are such cookie-cutter little boxes that all look the same. If y’all painted the trim black and added shutters, it would make the brick pop. A few boxwoods and limelight hydrangeas would give it a ton of curb appeal, too,” Callum rambles, pointing around the front of the house as I let him in.

“Noted,” I rasp, my voice a rough approximation of its normal timbre.

Callum’s head snaps to me, finally taking in what must be my haggard expression. He stops appraising the house to wrap me in a tight hug. He pushes me away just far enough to see my face while still gripping my arms. “Oh, darling, what happened? You look like shit ran over.”

I let my head drop to his shoulder and hold on for dear life. I’m shaking, barely able to hold back the emotion that clogs my throat, making it hard to speak. “It’s Westin. I can't see him anymore.”

He loops his arm through mine and ushers me inside like we’ve swapped roles and he’s the host. He looks around, spots the kitchen, and maneuvers me into a chair at the island while he begins opening cupboards and the fridge, looking for things.

“Tell me everything. I need to help you fix whatever it is,” he says as he runs the tap to fill the kettle and begins boiling water.

“I was hired by the Hydras organization to treat Westin as his psychologist,” I explain.

It was such a relief to finally tell Callum that Westin is a hockey player before we attended the game together. I shouldn’t have worried about keeping it from him, though. It turns out that his best friend, Tucker, is the Hydras’ team captain’s boyfriend. The Hydras are turning out to be a very inclusive and LGBTQIA+ friendly organization, what with two out players and Westin in the closet.

“Ooh, spicy! I can see some doctor-patient roleplay in your future,” Callum says, a bright grin lighting his face.

“No,” I say, shaking my head vehemently. “It’s not some sexy opportunity for more one-on-one time. This is serious. I have a duty of care to treat him as a patient, which means I have to end our sexual arrangement. I can't sleep with him if I’m treating him.”

“So no roleplay nookie. Who’s going to know if you keep it separate? You could still see him outside of the sessions, right?” Callum asks, continuing to look for the silver lining where there’s only a dark thundercloud.

“I can't.” My voice breaks as the full weight of what’s happened cracks open, smothering me. “If I sleep with a patient, I’d lose my license, my PhD, and my career. It’s not something I can even entertain.” My hands shake as I take the mug Callum hands me. I didn't even know we had chamomile tea in the stock I keep, but he somehow managed to find something comforting anyway. I wrap my hands around the hot ceramic and stare at the teabag inside, wishing it would give me the answers for how to navigate my new reality.

“Why would you do this to yourself, if you knew what it meant for your relationship?” Callum asks, leaning on the island across from me. Concern is etched into his brow as he stares at me, finally abandoning all traces of humor and understanding the severity of the situation.

“I couldn't turn it down without there being questions that forced me to out Westin and expose our current sexual relationship. I was forced into this, and now I have to kill Westin as my lover so I can treat him as a patient in crisis dealing with residual trauma. No sleepovers. No touching. No secret hookups.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” Callum says, stretching out his hand and placing it over mine. “It has to get better, right? There’s gotta be a way out of this where you still get your man.”