Updated Feb 24, 2026 • ~9 min read
POV: Blair
Week thirteen brought phenomenal news: Cal was cleared for light skating next week. The team was excited—playoffs were ten weeks away, and if Cal continued progressing, he might make it. A miracle recovery, and everyone knew it was Blair’s doing.
On Monday morning, Blair was in her office reviewing Cal’s latest scans. Structural integrity was excellent. Muscle mass was returning. Stability was improving. Better than expected. She was pleased, proud even. This was her best work.
Then Grant walked in.
Grant Holloway. Her ex-fiancé. Tall, handsome, a surgeon—everything the Sutton family had wanted for her, everything she’d thought she wanted. Until she caught him cheating with her friend in their bed six months ago. She hadn’t seen him since.
“Blair.”
His voice was familiar. Unwelcome.
“Grant. What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you. You haven’t returned my calls.”
“Because we have nothing to discuss.”
“I disagree. Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
“My office is as private as it gets. Say what you need to say.”
He closed the door and sat down uninvited. Classic Grant—always assuming he was welcome.
“I made a mistake. With Jessica. With us. I’m sorry.”
Blair had heard this before. Multiple voicemails. Texts. Emails. All saying the same thing: sorry, mistake, want you back.
“I don’t accept your apology. We’re done. Move on.”
“I can’t. I love you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it. Sleeping with my friend. In our bed.”
“I was stupid. Scared. The engagement felt real and I panicked. But I’ve had time to think. To grow. I’m ready now. For us. For marriage. For everything.”
Blair laughed, bitter and angry. “You had your chance. You blew it. There’s no us anymore.”
“Blair—”
“Leave. Now. Before I call security.”
Grant stood. “I’m not giving up. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ll prove I’ve changed. That I deserve another chance.”
He left finally, and Blair sat in shocked silence. What the hell had just happened?
She didn’t tell Cal immediately. Grant’s appearance didn’t matter—they were over, ancient history. But that afternoon, Grant showed up at the facility again, bringing lunch, flowers, and apologies. Visible. Public. Everyone saw. Including Cal.
Cal was on the ice for his first skating session since the injury. Light laps, testing the knee, careful. Blair was supervising from the bench, monitoring form and checking for compensation patterns, when Grant appeared beside her.
“He’s your patient? The franchise player everyone’s talking about?”
“Yes. And I’m working. You need to leave.”
“I will. After we talk. Dinner tonight? I made reservations at that place you love. Canlis.”
“I’m not having dinner with you.”
“Coffee then. Twenty minutes. I flew in from California just to see you.”
“That’s your problem. Not mine.”
“Please. Twenty minutes. That’s all I ask.”
Blair was about to refuse again when she noticed Cal. He’d stopped skating and was staring at them, his face hard, angry, jealous. Shit.
“Fine. Twenty minutes. Tomorrow. The Starbucks on Fourth. Then you leave me alone. Forever.”
Grant smiled. “That’s all I need. Thank you.”
He left finally, but the damage was done. Cal had seen, heard. He thought she was having coffee with her ex. Because she was—but only to make him go away. Cal wouldn’t see it that way.
When the session ended, Cal came off the ice with his knee holding up well. Blair approached to debrief.
“Great work today. How does the knee feel?”
“Fine.” One word. Clipped.
“Any pain? Instability?”
“No.”
“Good. Tomorrow we’ll increase duration—”
“Who was that?”
Direct. Confrontational. Blair sighed.
“My ex-fiancé. Grant.”
“The one who cheated?”
She’d told Cal about Grant during one of their coffee dates—her relationship history, his betrayal, the breakup.
“Yes.”
“What does he want?”
“Me back. Apparently.”
“And?”
“And I told him no. Multiple times. But he’s persistent.”
“You’re having coffee with him tomorrow.”
“To make him leave me alone. That’s all.”
“Looks like more than that. He brought flowers.”
“Which I didn’t accept.”
“He was all over you. Touching your arm. Leaning close.”
“I wasn’t reciprocating.”
“Didn’t look that way from the ice.”
Blair’s temper flared. “Are you seriously jealous right now? After the Kieran incident?”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Kieran was a teammate hitting on you. This is your ex. Who you were engaged to. Who you planned to marry. That’s not the same.”
“You’re right. It’s not. Because Kieran was a stranger. Grant’s my past. Emphasis on past. I don’t want him. I want you.”
Cal’s anger deflated slightly. “Then why have coffee with him?”
“Because he flew from California. Because he won’t leave me alone. Because twenty minutes of conversation is easier than months of harassment. But it doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means something to him. He wants you back.”
“He can want all he likes. He’s not getting me.”
“How do I know that?”
Blair stepped closer. They were in public, at the rink, with people around. But she didn’t care.
“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot. Not him. You.”
The words hung there. First time she’d said it. Love.
Cal’s eyes widened. “You love me?”
“Apparently. Against my better judgment. But yes.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Cal Montgomery. Now stop being jealous and trust me.”
He was smiling, that rare genuine smile that made her heart flip. “I love you too. Have for weeks. Maybe months. Since you first told me to do ten more reps.”
Blair laughed. “Romantic.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
They were grinning at each other in public, obviously. People were staring. Blair didn’t care. She loved him. He loved her. Everything else was details.
Except it wasn’t. Coach Preston had seen the whole exchange and called Blair to his office after practice.
“Ms. Sutton. We need to talk.”
Her stomach dropped. This was it. He knew. She was fired.
Preston’s office was intimidating—championship photos, game trophies, press clippings. A reminder of everything at stake. Blair sat and waited while Preston studied her.
“I’m going to ask you a direct question. I expect a direct answer.”
“Okay.”
“Are you romantically involved with Cal Montgomery?”
Lie and save your job. Tell the truth and risk everything. Blair was torn. Then she thought about Cal, about trust, about doing this right.
“Yes. I am.”
Preston’s face hardened. “You’re aware of the fraternization policy?”
“Yes.”
“You signed the acknowledgment form?”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand this is a fireable offense.”
“I do.”
“And yet you pursued a relationship anyway.”
“It wasn’t pursued. It happened. We tried to fight it. We failed.”
“That’s not an acceptable excuse.”
“I’m not making excuses. I’m explaining. Cal and I developed feelings during his rehabilitation. We tried to maintain professional boundaries. But the connection was too strong. We’re in love. And I know that violates policy. But I’m not sorry.”
Preston leaned back, assessing. “You realize I could fire you right now.”
“Yes.”
“Cal’s recovery depends on you. If I fire you, his timeline suffers. Potentially his career.”
“I understand.”
“So what do you suggest? You keep treating him while dating him? Clear conflict of interest.”
“Or you assign someone else. And I work with different players. Cal and I disclose the relationship. Follow whatever protocols you set.”
“There is no protocol. The policy forbids all relationships.”
“Then change the policy. Or enforce it and fire me. But I won’t end my relationship with Cal. Not for this job. Not for anything.”
Bold. Possibly stupid. But true.
Preston was quiet for a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally: “I need to think about this. Talk to the owner. Legal. HR. In the meantime, you continue as Cal’s PT. But this conversation stays between us. No one else knows I’m aware. Understood?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t decided what to do.”
Fair enough.
Blair left shaking. It could have been worse. Could have been better. She was in limbo—job uncertain, future unknown. But she’d told the truth. Chosen Cal. Publicly. Finally. No more hiding.
She told Cal that night over FaceTime, unable to risk meeting in person.
“I told Preston. About us.”
“What? Why?”
“He asked directly. I couldn’t lie.”
“What did he say?”
“That he needs to think. Talk to ownership. Decide if I’m fired.”
Cal’s face went pale. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have made a scene at the rink. With your ex. Everyone saw.”
“It’s not your fault. This was always going to come out. We were never going to stay secret. Not with the way we feel.”
“If you get fired—”
“Then I get fired. And I find another job. But I won’t lose you. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Blair—”
“I love you. Remember? I’m not giving that up. Not for Preston. Not for anyone.”
Cal’s eyes shone. “You’re incredible. You know that?”
“I’m scared. But committed.”
“To us?”
“To us.”
“Then we’ll figure this out. Together.”
“Together.”
Coffee with Grant the next day was awkward. Blair made it clear from the start.
“Twenty minutes. Then you leave. And don’t come back.”
“Can I at least explain—”
“No. I don’t care about your explanations. We’re done. I’m with someone else. I’m happy. You need to respect that and move on.”
Grant’s face fell. “Someone else? Already?”
“Not already. It’s been six months. And yes. I’m in love.”
“With who? The hockey player? Your patient?”
“None of your business.”
“Blair, that’s completely inappropriate. You could lose your job—”
“Also none of your business. This conversation is over. Goodbye, Grant.”
She left fifteen minutes early. Done. Finally. Completely.
Grant tried calling, and she blocked his number. He tried emailing, and she set up auto-delete. He showed up at the facility one more time, and security escorted him out at Cal’s request. Finally, Grant gave up and returned to California, accepting it was over. Blair was relieved. One complication gone. Only about fifty more to deal with.
But that night, lying in bed and thinking about Cal’s “I love you,” Blair was content. They were in trouble—Preston knew, ownership would decide their fate, the policy still existed, everything was uncertain. But they loved each other. Said it. Meant it. Committed to it.
That was worth fighting for. Worth risking everything. Even if it cost her career, her reputation, her dreams. Cal was worth it. They were worth it. Love was worth it. Finally. Completely. Forever.
She just hoped it was enough.
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