Influence the commercial terms? They meant… I realized I was hyperventilating. They meant that the team couldn’t have any personal connection to the ownership of the practice facility, because of preferential treatment? But that was stupid; there were plenty of teams—older, established teams—who actuallyownedtheir facilities, or where the facilities were owned by one famous player or the coach.
So our case only mattered because the ice complex was separate from the team?
We wish to assure you that this communication is not punitive in nature, and that the league holds the Bramblebluff Ice Complex and the Fairbanks organization, in the highest regard. However, in the interest of competitive integrity and the league’s obligations to all franchise holders, we are obligated to initiate aformal review of the Terrors’ franchise standing pending satisfactory resolution of the above.
A formal review. Of the Terrors’ franchise standing. Because of me.
Oh God.
Oh God.
My hands were shaking, and I realized the words had gone blurry in front of my eyes, so I lowered the paper and turned to stare unseeingly out the window at the complex below: the parking lot, the entrance where I’d watched Kardok arrive a dozen times now.
The building my father had bought because I’d loved to skate, and he hadn’t known what else to do with that.
This was my fault.
My life, burbling over the line of what was allowable, what wasproper. Daddy had only bought this complex for me to practice, and it had been such a boon for the community even before the Teal Terrors had been granted their official standing in the OHL.
And now, because I couldn’t keep my hands—or my mouth, or my body—to myself, we were being penalized.
With tears in my eyes and a dry mouth, I tried to read the next paragraph.
Should the personal relationship in question be concluded prior to the commencement of the regular season, or should the facility arrangement be restructured to the satisfactionof the Compliance Division, the review will be closed without further action. We anticipate this matter can be resolved expediently and without disruption to the upcoming season.
I couldn’t breathe.
Concluded.
They wanted me and Kardok to break up, or they were going to pull the franchise rights for the Terrors. The team that meant so much to this community—to the players, to the complex, tous—was at risk of losing their standing in the OHL, before the season officially started.
Put like that, there was no question of what needed to happen, right?
I stood on shaking legs and managed to stumble to the door, closing it tightly, my knuckles white on the knob.
Don’t let anyone see you like this.
Right.
Don’t let anyone see you as less than perfect.
Except…Kardok had, and he’d stuck around. He’d seenme.
I took a shuddering breath and pressed my forehead to the wooden paneling of the door.
I was in love with him, and I was going to have to break up with him.
Two tears ran down my cheeks as my eyes squeezed shut.
Oh God, I was in love with him, and now I would lose him.
Of course I would lose him; the Terrors’ franchise rights were more important than this—this—thisbetween us. The sex was great, yes, and he made me happy, and I liked to think I made him happy, but we couldn’t weigh that against the team’s future!
Because the thing was—and this was the part that made my chest ache as a sob worked its way up my throat—the letter wasn’t wrong, exactly. Not about the facts of it. Iwasownership-adjacent. Kardokwasa Terrors player. Therewasa relationship between us that hadn’t existed when the lease was signed.
And that made it somehow even worse, that I couldn’t even be angry at the unfairness, because itwasfair.
The letter didn’t know anything about my world or his world or the way he’d shown up to the ballet in an uncomfortable tie and held my hand in the dark. The letter was about Section 7.4 and competitive integrity and arm’s-length arrangements.
