Updated Feb 24, 2026 • ~11 min read
POV: Blair
Blair had been unemployed for three days. Three days of sitting at home, scrolling job boards, and avoiding calls from her parents. Three days of missing Cal. It was killing her.
Cal texted constantly. Miss you. This is bullshit. Come over tonight?
Blair wanted to say yes, wanted to see him, touch him, forget the disaster their lives had become. But what was the point? She was fired. He was benched. Their relationship had destroyed both careers. Meeting now just made it worse. Right?
Wrong.
On day four, she caved. She showed up at Cal’s apartment at 8 PM. He opened the door looking wrecked—unshaven, hair messy, eyes tired. Beautiful.
“You came.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“But you did.”
He pulled her inside and kissed her before the door even closed. Hard. Desperate. Three days of missing each other exploding into contact. Blair melted. God, she’d missed this. Missed him. Everything else was terrible, but this? This was perfect.
They barely made it to the bedroom. Clothes scattered through the hallway, hands everywhere. Making up for lost time. Making up for everything they’d lost. Sex was different now—frantic, intense, like they were drowning and each other was oxygen. No more holding back. No more careful. They’d already lost everything. Might as well enjoy what was left.
After, wrapped in sheets, sweaty and satisfied, Cal said: “I hate this. You being gone. Not seeing you every day.”
“I hate it too.”
“Then come back.”
“I’m fired, remember?”
“Not to the facility. To me. Move in.”
Blair sat up. “Cal—”
“I’m serious. You’re unemployed. I’m benched. We have nothing but time. Spend it here. With me.”
“That’s insane.”
“Why?”
“Because we barely know each other. Because moving in after a month is crazy. Because—”
“Because you’re scared.”
He was right. She was scared. This was moving so fast. Too fast. But also… exactly right.
“What if we crash and burn? What if this doesn’t work?”
“Then we crash and burn. But at least we’re together when it happens.”
God. How did he make terrible ideas sound romantic?
“I need to think about it.”
“Think fast. I’m lonely.”
He pulled her close again, already hardening against her thigh. Round two incoming. Blair wasn’t complaining.
Morning came. Blair woke in Cal’s bed with sun streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and the Seattle skyline visible. Cal was still sleeping, face peaceful and vulnerable. This man had lost everything for her—career temporarily destroyed, team turned against him, future uncertain—all because he loved her. That wasn’t nothing. That was everything.
Her phone buzzed. Sienna: Where are you? You didn’t come home last night.
Blair: Cal’s place. Sorry, should’ve texted.
Sienna: You’re back together? After everything?
Blair: We never really ended. Even when we should have.
Sienna: Be careful. Preston’s still watching.
Blair: I’m already fired. What else can he do?
Sienna: Trade Cal. Destroy his career completely. Don’t give him ammunition.
She was right. Blair should leave. Stay away. Let Cal rebuild without her dragging him down. But she couldn’t. Didn’t want to. This was selfish, and she didn’t care.
Cal woke and found her staring. “Creepy. How long have you been watching me sleep?”
“Long enough to confirm you drool.”
“I do not drool.”
“You absolutely do.”
He tackled her—playful, sweet, different from last night’s desperation. They wrestled and laughed. Almost normal. Except nothing about this was normal.
“I need to go to the facility today,” Cal said over coffee.
“Why? You’re benched.”
“Still required to attend practices. Watch from the press box. Preston’s making an example of me.”
“That’s cruel.”
“That’s Preston. You want to come?”
“I’m banned from the facility, remember?”
“Not technically. You’re just fired. You can still visit. As my guest.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Or a brilliant one.”
“Cal—”
“I’m not asking you to PT again. Just come watch practice. Sit in the box with me. Be there.”
“Everyone will see.”
“Let them see. We already lost everything. Might as well be together while losing it.”
Stupid logic. Compelling logic. Blair agreed.
Walking into the facility felt surreal. Four days ago, Blair had been escorted out by security. Now she was walking back in on Cal’s arm—public, obvious, defiant. People stared: staff, players, everyone. Some supportive. Most judgmental. Blair held her head high. She wasn’t ashamed. This relationship had cost her career. She wasn’t hiding it now.
The press box was private—glass separating them from the ice, soundproof, empty except for them. Practice started below, the team skating and running drills. Cal should have been down there. Instead he was here, watching, benched, punished. Blair saw the pain in his expression.
“This is torture for you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why come?”
“Because the alternative is sitting home alone. Spiraling. At least here I can see the team. Feel connected. Even from up here.”
“How long is the suspension?”
“Indefinite. Until Preston decides I’ve learned my lesson.”
“What lesson? That loving someone is wrong?”
“That violating team policy has consequences.”
“Bullshit policy.”
“Agreed. But it’s still the rule.”
Halfway through practice, Nash skated over and looked up at the press box. He couldn’t see them through tinted glass, but he knew they were there. He shook his head—disappointed, worried. After practice, he came up and found them in the box.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Hi, Nash. Nice to see you too,” Cal said.
“I’m serious. Preston already benched you. You parading Blair around makes it worse.”
“I’m not parading. She’s watching practice.”
“As your girlfriend. Publicly. Everyone knows now.”
“Good. Let them know.”
“Cal—”
“I’m not hiding, Nash. I’m done pretending she doesn’t matter. She’s the best thing in my life. I won’t act like she’s not.”
Nash looked at Blair. “You okay with this? Being the reason he’s benched?”
Blair flinched. That hurt. “I’m not the reason. The policy is.”
“Semantics. Result’s the same.”
“Nash, back off,” Cal warned.
“I’m trying to help. Preston’s looking for excuses to trade you. Don’t give him one.”
“He won’t trade me. I’m the franchise.”
“You’re replaceable. Everyone is. And Preston proved he’ll sacrifice anyone to enforce his rules.”
The words hung heavy. Nash left, and Blair was shaken.
“Is he right? Will Preston trade you?”
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am. Trading me tanks the team. Preston’s stubborn, not stupid.”
“But if he does—”
“Then I get traded. I’ll play somewhere else. And you’ll come with me.”
“Cal—”
“I mean it. Wherever I go, you go. We’re together. That’s non-negotiable.”
He said it like it was simple. Like uprooting her entire life was easy. It should have terrified her. Instead, it felt right.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“If you get traded, I’ll come. We’ll figure it out.”
Cal kissed her, soft, grateful, relieved. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
They left the facility together, hand in hand, visible, public. Teammates saw. Staff saw. Reactions were mixed—some players nodded supportively while others looked away, disapproving. Kieran, the guy who’d hit on Blair at the team dinner, smirked. “Guess it was worth it, Cap. She’s hot.”
Cal’s jaw tightened. Blair squeezed his hand. “Let it go.”
“He’s disrespecting you—”
“He’s being Kieran. Ignore him.”
Cal did. Barely. But they made it to the parking lot without incident. Progress.
That night, Blair officially moved in. Not permanently—just some clothes, essentials. Testing it out. Cal was ridiculously excited, clearing drawer space and making room in the closet, acting like this was normal. Like they were a normal couple. Not two people whose relationship had destroyed their careers. Blair loved it—the normalcy, the domesticity. Coming home to someone. Cooking dinner together. Watching TV. Just existing. It was perfect. Terrifying. Exactly what she wanted.
Week two of unemployment, Blair was officially living with Cal. Her apartment sat empty, rent still paid, just in case. But she was here with him every night. It was the best and worst decision. Best because they were happy. Worst because she was still unemployed, still searching, still rejected. Turns out being fired for violating team policy was bad for resumes. No one wanted to hire her.
Cal noticed her spiraling. “You’ll find something.”
“When? I’ve applied to fifty jobs. Zero responses.”
“Because they’re intimidated. You’re overqualified.”
“Or blacklisted. Preston’s making sure no team hires me.”
“He wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t he? He fired me. Benched you. You think he’s above calling other teams? Warning them about the ‘unprofessional PT who violated policy’?”
Cal was quiet because she was probably right. Preston would absolutely do that.
“Then we sue. Wrongful termination. Blacklisting. We fight back.”
“With what money? I’m unemployed. You’re benched without pay.”
“I have savings—”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“It’s our money. If we’re together, it’s ours.”
God. He really meant that. Financially combined after two weeks. This was insane. Blair should run. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. This was her life now. Apparently.
Week three, Cal was still benched, Blair still unemployed. They were living together, playing house. It should have been depressing. Instead, it was the happiest Blair had ever been. Waking up together. Morning coffee. Lazy afternoons. Cal was doing PT on his own, keeping his knee strong. Blair supervised—couldn’t help herself.
“Ten more reps.”
“You’re not my PT anymore.”
“Humor me.”
He did. Always did. She loved that about him.
Nash visited, unannounced and uncomfortable. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Preston. He’s asking about you. About Blair. If you’re still together.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. But he’s watching. Looking for evidence to extend your suspension. Or worse.”
“Let him look. We’re not hiding.”
“Cal, I’m serious. He’s building a case. Talking to ownership about trading you.”
Blair’s stomach dropped. “He’s actually considering it?”
“More than considering. He’s making calls. Other teams. Gauging interest.”
“I’m the franchise player. Leading scorer. He can’t—”
“He can. And he will. If you keep flaunting this relationship.”
Silence. Heavy. Awful.
Finally, Cal said: “Then I guess I’m getting traded.”
“Cal—”
“I’m not ending this, Nash. Blair’s not negotiable. If Preston wants to trade me, fine. But I won’t give her up.”
Nash looked at Blair. “You’re really worth destroying his career?”
The question stung. Blair had asked herself the same thing. Was she worth it? Was this love worth everything Cal was losing?
Before she could answer, Cal did: “She’s worth everything. And I’d make the same choice again.”
Nash left, defeated and worried. Blair was crying.
“You can’t throw away your career for me—”
“I’m not throwing it away. I’m choosing you. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because it looks the same.”
“It’s not. Hockey’s what I do. You’re who I am. I choose you. Every time.”
They made love again—desperate, affirming, clinging. Still together. Still choosing each other. Despite everything threatening to tear them apart.
After, Cal said: “I don’t regret it. Any of this. Even if I get traded. Even if my career ends. You’re worth it.”
Blair wished she felt as certain. Right now, she felt like a catastrophe, destroying everything Cal had worked for, all because he loved her. Was that romantic? Or tragic? She didn’t know. But Cal did. And maybe that was enough. For now.
That night, lying awake, Blair made a decision. She’d find a job. Any job. Get income, stability. Stop being the anchor dragging Cal down. She applied to everything—PT clinics, gyms, hospitals, even jobs outside her field. Desperate. Determined. Someone would hire her. Someone had to. Because this relationship couldn’t survive if she was just dead weight. She needed to contribute. Prove she was worth the sacrifice. Even if she wasn’t sure she believed it.
Morning came with Cal still sleeping and Blair’s laptop open, applications sent. Fifty more rejections incoming. Probably. Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. She answered.
“Ms. Sutton? This is Amanda Liu from the Vancouver Vipers. We received your application for head PT. We’d like to interview you. Tomorrow. Can you make it?”
Blair’s heart stopped. Vancouver. Different city. Different team. Different country. But a job. An actual job.
“Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be there.”
She hung up, shaking. This was good news. Great news. Except Vancouver was four hours from Seattle. If she took this job, she’d leave Cal. Unless he came with her. Unless they uprooted everything. Again. For love.
Was it worth it? She looked at Cal, still sleeping, still trusting her, still choosing her despite everything. Yeah. It was worth it. Whatever came next, they’d face it together.
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