Pucking Only (Night Hawks Hockey #2)

Chapter Twenty-Eight The Decision

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: THE DECISION

SKYLER

Click. Click Click.

I don’t even know what I’m reading as I mindlessly click through my emails, totally heartsick and despondent as I sit at my desk at work and stare at my computer. It’s early Monday morning, and despite still being exhausted from my flight from Wisconsin the day before, I decided it was best that I come into work. My hair is a tangled mess, I have bags under my eyes, and my t-shirt and flannel are wrinkled since I just yanked them out of my suitcase. There’s no way I was going to stay home by myself and work from home. Being alone with my thoughts is the last thing I need right now.

I can’t stop replaying the night in my head and the way my heart twisted painfully when I saw Carson with Elizabeth. I shouldn’t have let myself get so vulnerable with him. Shouldn’t have let my feelings for him grow so deep. I knew better. I know Carson’s reputation and know what kind of girls he actually likes, and I still let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I could be the exception.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts away, but they keep coming back, swirling in my mind like a storm I can’t escape. I feel so foolish for letting my guard down, for letting myself hope that there could be something more between us.

Suddenly, my desk phone rings, pulling me out of my thoughts. I quickly answer when I see that it’s Mr. Ferguson calling.

“Come to my office right away,” he says when I answer. He hangs up before I can reply.

My heart starts to race. Is this it? Am I finally going to find out about my game? I gave my presentation the day before leaving for Wisconsin and have been waiting impatiently to hear his decision. Jumping to my feet, I quickly make my way to his office, nerves buzzing inside me.

When I reach his office, I knock lightly on the door before pushing it open. He’s sitting behind his large metal and glass desk, his expression lit up by his desktop monitors and unreadable as he looks up at me. That’s not unusual, I remind myself. He’s never an easy man to read. I notice that the little plant he’d had on his desk before I left for Denver is gone, taking away the last bit of warmth in his pristine and minimalistically decorated office.

Samuel is also here, sitting in one of the chairs in front of Mr. Ferguson’s desk, and he looks smug. His brown bowl cut still looks stupid, and his sharp weasel face is oh-so-punchable… but I really dig the Dragon Ball Z shirt he’s wearing with Super Saiyan God Goku.

Motherfucker.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ferguson nods, motioning for me to take a seat. “Yes, Skyler. I wanted to discuss your game coding.”

My heart skips a beat. This is it — the moment I’ve been waiting for. I worked so hard on that game, poured everything I had into it. Maybe, just maybe, this is the one bright spot in an otherwise disastrous week.

But if he just wants to discuss my coding work, why is Samuel here too?

“I reviewed your development,” he begins, his tone measured. “And I am impressed with your work. You’ve clearly put in a lot of effort.”

I nod, a small flicker of hope igniting in my chest. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”

Shooting a glance at Samuel, I’m surprised to see that he still appears smug. Why hasn’t he said anything? He usually doesn’t shut up when I’m around.

Mr. Ferguson leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. “However, after some thought, I’ve decided that Samuel will be taking over the project.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. For a moment, I can’t breathe, can’t think.

“What?” I manage to choke out.

“Samuel will be getting the promotion,” he repeats, his tone matter-of-fact, as if he’s discussing the weather and not tearing apart everything I’ve worked for. “He’ll be leading the development of the game moving forward. While your game is more impressive than Samuel's on a technical and design level, and it will be the build that we use to finish our project, there are a few flaws that I've been unable to look past, and so I've decided that Samuel will be taking over from this point forward.”

I feel like the floor has been pulled out from under me. My heart is racing and the room seems to spin. I clutch the arms of my chair, afraid that I’ll tip over and fall to the floor because I feel so dizzy. This was supposed to be my chance, my opportunity to prove myself. And now, just like that, it’s being taken away from me .

“But… but this is my game,” I stammer, my mind racing to make sense of what he’s saying. “Why would you give it to Samuel? If his game wasn’t as good as mine, then I’m the one who should be getting the promotion!”

“Samuel is more equipped to finish the game.” Ferguson’s words are short and clipped, but they offer no real explanation for this decision.

More equipped? My mind races, trying to understand. What does he mean by that? I’ve put in the hours, I’ve done the research, I’ve poured my heart and soul into this project. This game is mine. I built it from the ground up. Now he’s just handing it over to Samuel, whose game clearly isn’t as good as mine since he’s clearly stated that they will be going with my work? He’s not even giving me a chance to improve on whatever flaws he claims there are.

I glance at Samuel, who’s looking at me with an expression of concern, though I can see right through that bullshit.

“Skyler, I know you’re upset,” he says in a tone dripping with faux-sympathy and barely concealed smugness. “I was impressed with your game too, but like Mr. Ferguson said, there were mistakes in it that were hard to overlook. I did warn you, remember? That you had to be careful and not make those mistakes?”

I want to scream at him, tell him that he has no idea what he’s doing, that this game is mine, but I bite my tongue, waiting for my boss to give me some kind of explanation. Some reason that will make this make sense, even though I can’t imagine what that could be!

When I look back at Ferguson, all I see is indifference.

“Skyler,” he begins in that condescending tone I’ve come to loathe, “I value your contributions. You’ve done great work, but Samuel has more experience. I believe he’s better equipped to lead the project moving forward. I trust that you will continue to bring your best foot forward in this project under his guidance.”

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“What exactly makes Samuel more equipped?” I ask, struggling to keep the anger out of my voice.

“He has more experience leading a team,” Ferguson explains. “He has an eye for final details that you haven’t demonstrated that you possess, and while your game is better on a creative level, you have shown a lack of discipline through the process of putting your demo together and refused any offers of collaboration and cooperation given out by Samuel. That shows me that you’re not the team player I need for the assistant director position.”

His words sound rehearsed, and when Ferguson exchanges a quick glance with Samuel, it hits me. This was all planned. He’d already decided to give Samuel the promotion before I even presented my game, and nothing I say will change his mind. It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve worked, how much I’ve proven myself. He doesn’t see me as capable. He never has. I am a team player, and I’m all about collaboration, but it’s Samuel who never wants to work together. He either degrades me or takes over, and that’s exactly what he’ll do as a team lead.

The realization crashes over me like a wave, drowning me in frustration and disappointment. I’ve been blind. Grace and Carson were right all along. I’ve been wasting my time here, believing that if I just worked hard enough, if I just proved myself, I’d finally get the respect I deserve.

But that’s never going to happen. Not here.

I’ve always known there was an unspoken bias in this company, a glass ceiling I couldn’t quite break through, but I convinced myself that I could shatter it if I just kept pushing. Now, sitting here, looking at Ferguson and Samuel, I realize it’s never going to happen. They’re never going to take me seriously, no matter how much I accomplish.

I feel a strange sense of calm wash over me. It’s the calm that comes when you’ve made a decision and finally see things for what they really are. I know what I need to do.

Leaning forward and clasping his hands together on his desk, Ferguson says, “So, Skyler, are you ready to join us on this team to make the best hockey game to ever hit the market?”

I don’t even have to consider my answer. Pushing my chair back, I stand up, my decision firm. I see the confusion in their eyes as I straighten my back and look between the two of them.

“You know what?” I say, my voice strong and unwavering. “I quit.”

For a second, my declaration is met by stunned silence. Ferguson’s jaw drops slightly, and Samuel’s smirk falters. They weren’t expecting this. Good.

“Hold on, Skyler,” Mr. Ferguson finally says. “There’s no need to throw a fit about this.”

“I don’t need to put up with your bullshit for one more second,” I snap, my blood boiling. “I’ve worked my ass off for this company, and for what? To be disrespected and overlooked? No, thank you. I’m done being underestimated. I’m done letting you two take credit for my work. You think Samuel can do better? Let him. I’ll be just fine without you.”

Mr. Ferguson pushes to his feet, his face turning red. Oh, look at that. He’s finally showing a bit of emotion and interest at long last. “Skyler, be reasonable,” he growls. “This is just how this industry works.”

“If that’s the case, then it needs to change. Though I doubt every gaming company is as shortsighted and misogynistic as this one. Good luck finishing the game without me. ”

“Skyler!” Ferguson barks, but I turn for the door.

Samuel hops up and blocks my path.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He looks panicked, which is very satisfying. “You’re just going to toss your career out the window because you aren’t getting your way? I knew you were selfish, but — ”

“Selfish?” I smile and shake my head. “Oh, Samuel, you pathetic, small man. Do you really think I’m stupid? I know the only reason you’re trying to stop me is because you can’t finish this game without me. I’m more talented than you and my game development skills are better. The only reason you’re getting this promotion is because you have a dick and I don’t.”

Samuel’s jaw drops in shock and I shove past him to leave the office.

My heart is pounding with adrenaline and a sense of liberation. I don’t even hesitate as I walk straight to my desk. The few coworkers who see me must notice the determination on my face because no one tries to stop me or ask questions. Everyone stays out of my way. I grab my things, shoving my few personal items into my bag with quick, precise movements. This is it. I’m really doing this. I’m leaving, and it feels incredible. Every step I take toward the exit feels like shedding a weight that’s been dragging me down for far too long.

The only thing that would make this moment even better would be if Grace and Carson were here, cheering me on. I want to tell both of them about this so badly. I know they’d be so proud of me.

Feeling a surge of determination, I decide that I’ll call Grace as soon as I get to my car, and then I’ll call Carson. As much as it hurt to see him with Elizabeth, I still want to tell him about this.

I want to hear his voice.

When I push open the front doors of the building and step outside, the warm air hits me, and I take a deep breath, feeling lighter than I have in years. As I glance around, trying to get my bearings, I freeze.

There, standing on the sidewalk, staring straight at me, is Carson.