Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“We’ve given him chances,” Kemp says, and it’s not unkindly. He’s looking out for the overall health of this team. “He’s caused problems on other teams.”
“And yet this organization took him in the expansion draft, I assume for all the reasons Coach has told you he’s vital to this team. You’ve given him warnings, but nobody has addressed what’s actually driving the behavior.” I keep my voice even, professional, the same register I’d use presenting to a board. “This is the very reason you hired me.”
Patrick tilts his head in curiosity. “So there’s a root cause?”
“I’ve seen enough to believe I’d like to try to dig deeper,” I say, unwilling to make any promises.
Silence.
Then Van speaks for the first time.
“I think Locke deserves a chance.” He’s quiet, his response unhurried, indicating he’s thought carefully about this. “I’ve been on both sides of this situation. There was a period in my career… when my father’s book came out, when everything private became public without my consent…” He pauses for a beat. “I made it very hard for the people around me to help. I made decisions that had nothing to do with hockey and everything to do with carrying emotions I didn’t know how to handle.” His eyes come directly to me. “I wonder how much easier it would have been for me had I had someone with your experience to help me through it.”
Oliver glances back down to his folder with a frown, while Colter takes another sip of coffee with a contemplative look.
“Thank you all,” Patrick says, standing from his chair. “I’m going to meet with Locke and then I’ll make my decision.”
Everyone moves toward the door. I stand, gather my things and start to follow, but Patrick’s command halts me. “Livia. Stay, please.”
I sit back down.
Oliver is the last one out and he pulls the door shut.
Patrick’s gaze lands on me. “You’re sure he’s worth the effort?”
“Coach seems to think his numbers prove he is,” I reply.
“No, I mean is whatever this is…” He motions in the air. “An issue inside of him that he can work past?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I just know I should try.”
That seems to be enough because Patrick leans across his desk, presses a button on his phone and says, “Janine… send Locke in.”
A moment later, the door opens again. Locke Donovan walks in, scans the room and sets his jaw into a stubborn line. He stands in the center of the office with his hands loose at his sides, eyes moving between us, trying to pick up any information he can from our silence and expressions.
“Sit down, Locke.” Rowe motions as he returns to his chair.
Locke sits down in the chair next to me, eyes locked on the Wildfire owner.
“I’m going to be very direct with you.” A pause, a staring contest to make sure his attention is engaged. “This organization is close to the end of its patience. I am at the end of my patience. Two uncalled-for incidents in eleven days is a pattern, and the league is out of patience as well.” He lets that sit for a few seconds that feel eternal. “A change needs happen and it needs to happen now.”
Locke says nothing. His jaw works slightly, the only visible sign that any of this is affecting him.
Patrick nods in my direction. “You are going to work with Livia. This is not a suggestion. It’s not a recommendation. It is a condition of your continued employment with this organization. You engage fully and in good faith with her or you pack your gear.” He pauses, his normally warm, expressive eyes lasered with command. “Are we clear?”
The silence that follows is telling. I can see it in Locke’s expression that he’s weighing what his life would look like away from hockey. He’s calculating the risk of walking away from all of this to keep mired in his past, and there’s no doubt that past is affecting his performance.
“Clear,” Locke finally says, gritting out the word as if it’s leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Good.” Patrick looks at me. “Let’s get an appointment on the calendar right now so I know we’re moving forward.”
I blink in surprise over the micromanagement, but it’s probably for the best. I suspect Locke will continue to put me off if given the chance. I pull out my phone and Locke doesn’t move.
Patrick swivels his head back that way and stares at him until Locke pulls his out as well, as if every muscle in his body is resisting the effort.
“I believe the team has Saturday off,” Patrick offers helpfully.
“Saturday is open for me,” I say, not even bothered it’s a weekend. This job doesn’t have a typical Monday-through-Friday schedule.
Patrick looks at Locke. “Saturday works?”
A stubborn beat. “Fine.”
“Good.” Patrick stands, which means the meeting is over, and Locke and I follow suit. We move toward the door, but Patrick stays behind his desk, already reaching for his phone, moving forward to the next order of business.