Chapter 113 The League Investigation

Chapter 113 The League Investigation


The hallway outside the interview room smelled like stale coffee and tension.

I sat on a hard plastic chair, back against the concrete wall, watching the door that had swallowed Cassian twenty minutes ago. Every few minutes, another teammate emerged looking pale and exhausted. Nobody spoke, nobody met anyone's eyes. Raffi had gone in first and come out shaking his head. Another teammate followed, his face a mask of controlled fury. Then Cassian's name was called.

I watched him disappear through that door and wanted to follow him. I wanted to shove past the league officials and sit beside him and tell him he didn't have to answer any of their questions. But I couldn't. That wasn't how this worked, that wasn't how any of this worked.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped tight. My knee throbbed from sitting too long, but I ignored it.

Cassian had squeezed my hand before he stood. His palm was cold. His fingers trembled. He'd looked at me and said, "You'll be okay."

I'd said, "So will you."

Neither of us believed it.

\---

The interview room was small. It had just a table and two chairs with a lamp that cast harsh shadows across the league investigator's face. He had a calm, practiced voice, the kind of voice designed to make you forget he was documenting everything you said.

I sat across from him, hands flat on the table, and answered his questions with the same calm I'd spent years perfecting.

Did I ever receive preferential treatment? No.

Did coaches intentionally keep Cassian and me together? No.

Did teammates complain about our relationship affecting the team dynamic? No.

The investigator nodded. Made notes. Then his tone shifted.

"When did your relationship become romantic?"

I blinked. "I don't see how that's relevant."

"Your on-ice chemistry has been documented as exceptional. We're trying to understand how much of that is hockey and how much is personal."

I kept my face blank. "It's hockey."

"Do you share strategic discussions at home? Game plans? Play breakdowns?"

"We live together. We talk about hockey sometimes. Just like every other player on this team."

He leaned forward. "Would you say emotional intimacy improves your on-ice chemistry?"

I stared at him. My hands were still flat on the table. My voice was still steady. But something cold had settled in my chest.

"My personal relationship has nothing to do with hockey."

He tried another angle. "If your relationship contributes to your performance—"

I cut him off. Not loud. Just firm. "My skating contributes to my performance. My training contributes to my performance. My teammates contribute to my performance." I met his eyes. "My private life is irrelevant."

"So you refuse to answer?"

"I refuse to answer questions that have nothing to do with league policy."

The investigator studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded. Made another note. "Thank you, Captain. That's all."

I stood. Walked out. The door clicked shut behind me.

\---

Cassian's interview lasted twenty minutes longer than mine.

I waited in the hallway. Watched the door. Counted the seconds. My leg bounced. My fists clenched. Every minute felt like an hour. I wanted to open that door and pull him out. Wanted to tell them they couldn't keep him in there. Wanted to burn the whole investigation to the ground.

Finally, the door opened.

Cassian stepped out. His face was pale. His eyes were red. He wasn't crying anymore, but he clearly had been. I could see the tear tracks on his cheeks. Could see the way his jaw was still trembling.

I stood immediately. Crossed the distance between us. Didn't ask. Didn't speak. Just reached for him.

He practically collapsed into me. His forehead pressed against my shoulder. His hands gripped my jacket. For one second, just one, he let himself fall apart. Then he remembered where we were. Remembered the cameras. Remembered the investigators still in the room behind us.

He pulled back. Wiped his face with the back of his hand.

I stepped closer. "You okay?"

He shook his head.

"Cassian."

He looked at me. His eyes were hollow.

"They asked me if loving you gave us an unfair advantage."

My heart stopped.

"They asked if I'd still be the same player if I wasn't with you." His voice cracked. "They made it sound like everything we've built isn't real. Like our championships don't count. Like we only won because we're together."

I cupped his face. Didn't care who was watching. Didn't care about the cameras or the investigators or the rumors. I held his face in my hands and made him look at me.

"It is real."

"Tor—"

"Look at me."

He did.

"They don't get to define us. They don't get to rewrite our story. We earned everything we have. Not because we're together. Because we're us." I held his eyes. "You're the best player I've ever played with. That has nothing to do with me. That's all you."

He closed his eyes. Leaned into my palm.

"I know," he whispered. "I know. But it still hurt."

I pulled him close again. Just for a moment. Just enough.

\---

The investigation dragged on for weeks.

Every road trip included reporters. Every practice had cameras. Every game started with questions about the "pending review." The media speculated. The fans argued. The league stayed silent.

On the ice, we suffered.

Missed passes. Poor communication. Hesitation where there used to be instinct. We stopped trusting each other. Stopped trusting ourselves.

We lost three straight games.

After the third loss, the locker room was silent. Players sat in their stalls, equipment half-removed, faces blank. No one knew what to say. No one knew how to fix it.

I was still in my gear, staring at nothing, when Raffi grabbed my shoulder. Then he grabbed Cassian's. Pulled us both into the equipment room. Closed the door.

"This investigation is winning."

Cassian opened his mouth to argue.

Raffi held up his hand. "They're not beating us. You're beating yourselves."

I said nothing.

Raffi looked at me. "You've stopped trusting each other on the ice. I see it. Everyone sees it."

Cassian looked away.

Raffi's voice softened. "I know this hurts. I know it's unfair. But if you keep carrying this onto the ice, you're proving every headline right."

Silence.

Finally, I nodded. "You're right."

Cassian struggled. I could see it on his face. The anger. The embarrassment. The hurt.

But eventually, he nodded too.

\---

We left the arena together. Walked through the empty parking lot. The cold air hit our faces. Neither of us spoke for a long time.

Then I reached over and took his hand.

He looked at me.

I said quietly, "We're done giving them space in our heads."

He exhaled. It wasn't confidence. Not yet. But it was the first genuine breath he'd taken in weeks.

He squeezed my hand. "Together?"

I squeezed back. "Always."

We walked into the cold night side by side, still uncertain about the investigation's outcome, still waiting for the league's decision.

But together.

That was enough.