Power Pucking Play (Chicago Blades)

22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Lexi

I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket—again.

Gabi's name lights up the screen, pleading for my attention.

My hand hovers over it, drawn by the gravitational pull of guilt and friendship, but I can't bring myself to answer.

Not yet.

Not when I know why she's calling.

The photo, that damn photo of Gio and me, has clearly made its grand entrance into the world, throwing gasoline onto a fire I thought we'd kept safely contained.

It's not like Gabi to give up easily, but right now, the thought of discussing this very public mess is as appealing as jumping into ice water.

I let the call ring out, ignoring how my stomach twists with each buzz.

The stakes aren't just high. They're personal, intimate, affecting both of us.

And yet all I can do is stand here in front of my office building, paralyzed, watching the world play out my life as if it's some kind of reality show cliffhanger.

The elevator ride up to the Sports News Now offices feels like a journey to the gallows. As if explaining to my best friend that I've been secretly sleeping with her brother isn't hard enough, I also have to face the inevitable fallout from my boss and coworkers.

I know they'll all be discussing it. Judging me. Wondering how a "smart girl" like me could do something so reckless and hurtful.

As expected, as soon as the doors slide open, I'm hit with a wall of noise and barely concealed stares.

Great.

Looks like I'm the hottest topic since the Blades made the playoffs.

"Well, well, well," Parker Altman's smarmy voice cuts through the chatter. "If it isn't our resident ice queen. Tell me, Brookes, is De Luca as hot in the sheets as he is on the ice?"

I force a smile, all teeth and venom. "Wouldn't you like to know, Parker? Unfortunately, some of us prefer to keep our personal lives personal. Novel concept, I know."

Before he can retort, I spot Sophie waving frantically from the break room. I send a thank you to the universe for overeager interns, grateful for the distraction.

"Duty calls," I say, brushing past Parker. "Try not to miss me too much."

As I make my escape, I can practically feel the heat of Parker's glare on my back. But I refuse to let it get to me. Not when Sophie is waiting with a sympathetic smile and a cup of coffee in hand.

"Rough morning?" she asks, handing me the steaming mug.

"You have no idea," I mutter, taking a grateful sip.

Sophie leans against the counter, her brows furrowed in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of guilt and shame crushing down on me once again. How did I let things get so complicated?

I shake my head. "No. What I want to do is get to my office and start damage control. I can't afford for this to affect my job."

Sophie nods understandingly. "Well, just so you know, the office is buzzing with rumors about you and De Luca. But don't worry, I've been shutting them down as best I can."

I smile gratefully at her. Sophie may be young and inexperienced, but she's proving to be a valuable ally in this mess.

"Thanks, Soph," I say sincerely. "I owe you one."

She waves it off with a grin. "Just remember that when I need another internship recommendation."

"I will." I take another sip of my coffee. "Want to update me on the what's going on?"

I motion in the direction of my office, walking toward it with Sophie at my side.

"Sure," she says, her dark bob bouncing as she follows. "Well, the good news is, not everyone believes it. There's a lot of speculation, but without concrete proof..."

"And the bad news?"

She bites her lip. "Charlie's on the warpath. He's been asking for you all morning. And...well, there's been some talk about reassigning the De Luca piece."

My heart drops. "Reassigning? To who?"

"No one specific yet," Sophie says quickly. "But I did overhear some of the higher-ups talking about maybe switching gears entirely. Focus on a different player possibly."

I lean forward, a mix of dread and desperate hope churning in my stomach. "Like who?"

Sophie's eyes light up, oblivious to my internal turmoil. "Well, there's been some buzz about Evan Daniels. Like I told you before, he's got a pretty interesting backstory. Single dad, came back from a career-threatening injury...could be a good angle."

The awe in her voice is almost comical. I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"That does sound interesting," I say slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. "But what about De Luca?"

Sophie shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe they'll give it to someone else, or maybe they'll just scrap the whole story." She pauses and looks at me with concern in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Lexi. I know how much this piece meant to you."

Finally reaching my office, I sink into a chair, suddenly feeling every one of my thirty-one years. "Tell me about it. I don't suppose there's any chance this will all blow over by lunch?"

Sophie winces, and I have all the answer I need.

For a moment, I let myself imagine it. A fresh start, a new subject.

No complicated feelings. No ethical dilemmas.

Just a straightforward story about a player overcoming adversity. It sounds...simple. Safe.

But then Gio's face flashes in my mind.

His smile. His laugh. The way he looked at me this morning.

And my chest aches with a longing I can't afford to feel.

"It's a good idea, Soph," I say, forcing a smile. "I'll...I'll think about it."

Before she can respond, my phone buzzes. It's a text from Charlie's assistant. "Charlie wants to see you. Now."

"Showtime," I mutter, standing up. "Wish me luck?"

Sophie nods. "You got this. You're the best damn reporter we've got. Charlie knows that."

I wish I shared her confidence.

The walk to Charlie's office feels like the longest of my life. Each step is a reminder of every line I've crossed, every rule I've broken.

By the time I reach his door, my palms are sweating and my heart is racing like I've just run a marathon. I take a deep breath and knock.

"Come in," Charlie's gruff voice says from inside.

I push the door open, my hand shaking slightly.

He looks up from his desk, his expression unreadable as always. Charlie Holcomb is a man who looks like he was born in a three-piece suit, perpetually disgruntled and always two seconds away from a heart attack. Today, his face is an alarming shade of red that clashes horribly with his thinning grey hair.

"Sit down, Brookes," he barks, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

I comply, trying to project an air of calm I definitely don't feel.

"So," Charlie says, leaning back in his chair. "Want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

I take a deep breath. "Charlie, I can explain…”

"Explain? Explain what, exactly? How my top reporter is suddenly the subject of every gossip rag in the city? How you've potentially compromised one of our biggest stories of the year? Please, Brookes. Enlighten me."

For a moment, I consider denying everything.

Claiming it's all a misunderstanding. A trick of the camera angle. But looking at Charlie's face, I know he won't buy it. And more importantly, I'm tired of lying.

"The photos are real," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Gio and I...there is something between us. But Charlie, I swear, it hasn't affected my ability to report objectively."

"Objectively? Sounds to me like you're boning your subject, Brookes! There's nothing objective about that!"

"It's not like that," I argue, even as I know it's a losing battle. "We've only...it's new. And I've been nothing but professional in my coverage."

"Professional?" Charlie scoffs. "Do you have any idea the position you've put me in? The network has rules about this sort of thing for a reason. We can't afford even the appearance of impropriety."

I nod, swallowing hard. "I know. And I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Charlie eyes me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighs. "You're damn right it won't. Because if it does, you're off the story. Hell, you might be out of a job entirely. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," I say, relief warring with a growing sense of dread in my chest.

"Good. Now, here's what's going to happen. You're going to finish this feature on De Luca. But from now on, all your interactions with him are to be strictly professional. No more private meetings. No more late-night rendezvous. If you so much as look at him the wrong way, I'll have Parker Altman take over the piece. Understood?"

The thought of Parker getting his hands on Gio's story—on my story—makes my blood boil. But I nod, knowing I'm in no position to argue.

"Yes, sir," I say. "It won't be a problem."

As I leave Charlie's office, the full weight of the situation crashes down on me.

This isn't just about my career anymore.

It's about Gio's reputation, his future in the league. It's about the story I set out to tell, the truth I wanted to uncover.

And as much as it kills me to admit it, I'm starting to realize that I can't have it all.

I can't be the hard-hitting journalist and the woman falling for her subject. I can't protect my career and pursue a relationship with Gio.

Something has to give.

I make my way back to my desk, ignoring the curious stares and whispered comments. My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, but one thought keeps pushing its way to the forefront...

I have to end things with Gio.

The very idea makes my chest ache, but what choice do I have?

If I don't, I'll lose my job, my credibility, everything I've worked so hard for.

The best thing, as screwed up as it is, is to end it now, before we're in too deep. Before we hurt each other even more.

I try to convince myself that this is the right decision. That I'm being professional. Ethical. Responsible. But it's no use.

In my heart, I know that ending things with Gio will be one of the hardest things I've ever done.

But as a journalist, it's my job to tell the truth. And sometimes, that means making sacrifices and tough decisions.

Like I've always promised on my Sports News Now cast, I'm making the tough call.

But I've never felt less like a winner in my life.