Updated Feb 24, 2026 • ~8 min read
POV: Blair
Their first date was perfect. A small coffee shop ninety minutes outside Seattle where no one knew them and no one cared. They could just be Cal and Blair—not patient and therapist, not player and staff—just two people getting to know each other.
Cal told her about growing up in Minnesota, playing hockey from age four, obsessed and driven. His parents had been supportive but distant, busy with their own lives. He’d raised himself through hockey, for hockey. It was all he’d ever known.
“That’s why this injury terrifies me,” he admitted. “Without hockey, who am I?”
“You’re Cal. The person. Not the player.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”
He took her hand across the table. “I like that. Together.”
“Me too.”
Blair told him about her family—overachievers, all of them: doctors, lawyers, engineers. She was supposed to be a surgeon, the family expectation, but had chosen PT instead. They were disappointed. Still are.
“Physical therapy isn’t prestigious enough for the Sutton name.”
“Screw prestige. You save lives.”
“I help athletes walk again. It’s not exactly life or death.”
“It is to us. You gave me my career back. That’s everything.”
The way he looked at her made her heart melt. Like she was a miracle. Like she was everything.
They talked for hours. Coffee turned into lunch, lunch into a walk through downtown Bellevue—anonymous, safe. Cal held her hand, public but private, with no one recognizing them. It was perfect.
“I could get used to this,” Cal said.
“This?”
“Being normal. Just us. No pressure. No secrets.”
“It’s not going to be like this in Seattle.”
“I know. But we have today. Let’s enjoy it.”
They did. Every minute. Every touch. Every laugh. Every story. Perfect. Dangerous. Worth it.
Back in Seattle, reality hit. There was a mandatory team dinner, Thursday night, all players and staff. A team-building event, Preston’s idea. Blair had to attend. So did Cal. Together but separately. Professional. Careful. Like they agreed.
The restaurant was upscale, with a private room, a long table, and forty people. Players on one side, staff on the other—strategic seating, Preston’s doing, keeping boundaries clear. Cal was at the far end. Blair was in the middle. They couldn’t even make eye contact without being obvious. It was torture.
Dinner started fine. Small talk. Team bonding. Harmless. Then Kieran Brooks sidled up to Blair. Right wing, twenty-five, cocky, handsome, and a known flirt.
“Blair, right? The new PT?”
“That’s me.”
“I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. I’m Kieran.”
“I know who you are.”
“Do you? Or just my stats?”
He was flirting—obviously—leaning close, smiling, touching her arm. Blair was polite but distant. Not interested. But Kieran didn’t take the hint.
Across the table, Cal was watching. Eyes dark. Jaw tight. Nash noticed.
“Easy, man. It’s just Kieran being Kieran.”
“He’s touching her.”
“Barely. And she’s not interested. Let it go.”
Cal didn’t let it go. He kept staring, glaring, radiating tension. Blair felt it, looked over, made eye contact. Cal’s expression screamed possessive. Dangerous. This was bad.
Kieran ordered another drink and got more handsy. His hand moved to Blair’s shoulder, then her back. He leaned close to whisper something.
Blair shifted away. Polite but clear rejection.
Kieran persisted. “Come on. One drink after this. Just us. I promise I’m interesting.”
“I don’t think—”
Cal appeared suddenly, deliberately standing over them. “Back off, Brooks.”
Kieran looked up, surprised. “Just talking, Cap. Relax.”
“You’re done talking. Move.”
“Cal—” Blair started.
He ignored her, eyes locked on Kieran. Alpha male bullshit at full force.
Kieran stood, hands up. “No problem. She’s all yours.”
Wrong thing to say. Cal’s hands clenched.
Nash intervened, physically steering Cal away. “Kieran, maybe hit the bar. Cal, walk with me.”
Before something stupid happened.
Blair was mortified. Everyone was staring. This was exactly what they couldn’t do—draw attention, cause scenes, show feelings.
In the bathroom, Blair splashed cold water on her face, trying to calm down. The door opened and Sienna walked in.
“That was interesting.”
“Please don’t.”
“Cal Montgomery just went full caveman over you. In front of the entire team. And you’re worried about ‘interesting’?”
“It was nothing. He was just—”
“Jealous. Possessive. Marking territory. Very much something.”
Blair sagged against the sink. “We’re trying to be careful.”
“By him threatening teammates over you? Very subtle.”
“He wasn’t threatening—”
“Everyone saw it, Blair. The whole team knows now. Or suspects. Same thing.”
Fuck. This was what she was afraid of. One slip. One public moment. Now everyone knew—or thought they knew.
She found Cal outside in the smoking area. He didn’t smoke but needed air.
“That was a disaster.”
“I know.”
“Everyone suspects now.”
“I know.”
“We agreed to be careful—”
“I was careful! Until that asshole put his hands on you. Then I stopped being careful.”
“Kieran was just flirting—”
“I don’t care. He touched you. I can’t—” Cal stopped, breathed. “I can’t watch other men touch you. I know I don’t have the right. I know we’re secret. But seeing him… I lost it. I’m sorry.”
Blair should have been angry. Should have lectured him about discretion. She couldn’t. Because the possessiveness was kind of hot.
“You can’t do that again. People are going to talk.”
“Let them talk.”
“Cal—”
“I mean it. I don’t care what they think. You’re mine. I’m yours. Everyone else can deal.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. We’re either together or we’re not. I vote together.”
“Together means secret. Careful. You just blew careful.”
“Then we’ll be more careful. Starting tomorrow. But tonight? I needed him to know.”
“Know what?”
“That you’re off-limits.”
God. Why was this hot? Blair should have been furious. Instead, she was melting.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
He pulled her close. They were outside in the shadows, semi-private, but anyone could see.
“I’m sorry. For making a scene. For jeopardizing our secret. For being a jealous idiot.”
“You are a jealous idiot.”
“But I’m your jealous idiot.”
She laughed despite everything. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Make me forgive you when I should be furious.”
“Natural charm?”
“Annoying persistence.”
“Same thing.”
He kissed her, soft and sweet and apologetic. Blair kissed him back despite better judgment, despite the risk, because this was them. Messy. Complicated. Impossible. Perfect.
They returned to dinner separately—Blair first, then Cal five minutes later. Professional distance restored. But the damage was done. Everyone was watching them differently now. Knowing looks. Raised eyebrows. Whispers.
Nash caught Blair’s eye and mouthed: Told you.
Yeah. He did. And he was right. This secret wasn’t going to stay secret—not with the way Cal looked at her, not with the way she looked back, not with chemistry this obvious. They were screwed.
At the end of dinner, Preston made a speech. “Great team bonding tonight. Remember, we’re family. We support each other. On and off the ice. And we follow team rules. All of them. Always.”
He looked directly at Cal. Then at Blair. Message received. He suspected. Maybe knew. Either way, they were on his radar. Dangerous.
Walking to their cars, Nash stopped Blair. “Be careful. Preston’s watching.”
“I noticed.”
“He’ll fire you without hesitation. And trade Cal if necessary. Last year’s scandal made him paranoid.”
“We’re being careful.”
“Not careful enough. Half the team suspects. It’s only a matter of time before Preston has proof.”
“What should we do?”
“End it. Or go public. Secret relationships don’t work. Not here.”
“Those are our only options?”
“Unless you can be more careful than you were tonight.”
“We can. We will.”
Nash didn’t look convinced. Neither was Blair.
Cal texted later that night. I’m sorry about tonight. I screwed up.
You did. But I forgive you.
Still worth it? The risk?
Blair thought about that. About the kiss. The connection. The way he made her feel. About her career. The policy. Everything at stake.
Yes. Still worth it.
Good. Because I’m not giving you up. No matter what.
Even if it costs everything?
Especially then.
Romantic. Stupid. True. Cal would risk everything for this. For her. The question was: would she do the same?
She wasn’t sure yet. But she was afraid she might. And that was the scariest thing of all.
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