The crash of hockey gear hitting the floor made Harper jump. She spun to find Diego standing in the training room doorway, his practice bag forgotten at his feet as he stared at her and Wes.

They weren't doing anything wrong—not technically. Just standing close, discussing his knee. But Harper knew what Diego had seen in the moment before they sprang apart: Wes's hand on her waist, her fingers curled in his practice jersey, their faces too close for anything professional.

"I can explain," she started.

Diego held up a hand. "Don't. Just... don't." He ran his fingers through his hair, looking between them. "How long?"

"It's not what you think," Wes said.

"Really? Because what I think is that our athletic trainer is involved with a player. The coach's daughter is sleeping with our star forward. Do you have any idea how bad this looks?"

"We're not sleeping together," Harper snapped, even as her cheeks burned. "And nothing has affected my professional judgment."

"No?" Diego's laugh was harsh. "Is that why Carter's been doing extra workouts? Why you've been clearing him for more contact in practice?"

"That's not—"

"I trusted you," he cut her off. "Both of you. When the team questioned Carter's timeline, I defended you. Said you wouldn't let anything compromise his recovery." He shook his head. "Guess I was wrong."

"Diego, wait—" But he was already gone, leaving his practice bag forgotten on the floor.

Harper sank onto the nearest treatment table, legs suddenly weak. "He's going to tell them."

"We don't know that."

"Of course he is! The team, my father, everyone..." She pressed her hands to her face. "God, what were we thinking?"

"Hey." Wes crouched in front of her, pulling her hands away. "Whatever happens, we'll handle it."

"How? Once this gets out—"

The door burst open again. This time it was her father, Diego hovering uncertainly behind him. Coach Reid's face was thunderous.

"Carter. Out."

"Coach—"

"Now."

Wes hesitated, looking at Harper.

"Go," she said softly. "It's okay."

He left, shoulder brushing Diego's as he passed. The contact seemed to snap Diego out of his daze.

"I'll just..." He gestured vaguely and disappeared, leaving Harper alone with her father.

The silence stretched, heavy with disappointment.

"How long?" Coach Reid finally asked.

"A few weeks." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "Since Anderson's visit."

He nodded like this confirmed something. "I thought... but I didn't want to believe..." He stopped, jaw working. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Dad—"

"To yourself? To him? To this program?" His voice rose with each question. "Every win, every improvement in his recovery—it's all tainted now. People will say—"

"I don't care what people say! I've done everything by the book. Every protocol, every clearance—it's all documented. Verified by the team doctor."

"That's not the point and you know it!" He began pacing, the way he did when working out game strategy. "The board will have to investigate. They'll review every decision you've made about his care. And even if they find nothing wrong, the perception..." He stopped, facing her. "Your career is just starting. Is he worth risking everything for?"

The question hit her like a physical blow. Because that was the heart of it, wasn't it? What Wes meant to her, weighed against everything she'd worked for.

"He's not just another player," she said quietly.

"No. He's the player you chose to throw away your career for."

"I haven't—"

"Haven't you?" His expression softened slightly. "Harper, you're good at your job. Damn good. But this... getting involved with a patient, with a player... it crosses every line."

"I know." She swallowed hard. "But dad, I—"

A commotion in the hallway cut her off. Raised voices carried through the door—Wes and Diego, arguing. Other voices joined in, the team arriving for morning practice only to find their star player and defensive anchor squaring off.

Coach Reid's face hardened. "Stay here. I need to deal with this."

But Harper was already moving, following him into the hallway where they found most of the team gathered. Wes and Diego stood toe to toe, teammates trying to separate them.

"—can't believe you went to Coach," Wes was saying. "After everything—"

"Everything what?" Diego shot back. "All the times I covered for you? Kept quiet about the extra workouts? Yeah, I did that because I thought Harper was making the right calls. Now I find out she's been compromised this whole time—"

"She hasn't been compromised! Every decision she's made has been—"

"What? Professional?" Diego laughed harshly. "There's nothing professional about sleeping with your trainer!"

"We're not sleeping together!"

"No? Then what was that I walked in on? A medical examination?"

"Enough!" Coach Reid's voice cut through the chaos. The team fell silent, turning to face him. "Everyone in the locker room. Now."

They filed in, shooting glances between Wes, Diego, and Harper. She could already see the sides forming—those who would support Wes, those who would agree with Diego, those caught in the middle.

"Sit." Coach Reid waited until everyone found seats. "What I'm about to say doesn't leave this room." He paused, making eye contact with each player. "There will be an internal investigation into Carter's treatment and recovery protocol."

Murmurs broke out. Wes started to stand, but Hayes pulled him back down.

"Until that investigation is complete, Ms. Reid will be temporarily relieved of her duties."

"What?" Wes surged to his feet. "You can't—"

"I can and I will." Coach Reid's voice was steel. "This isn't up for discussion. The integrity of this program—"

"Integrity?" Wes laughed bitterly. "Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're throwing your own daughter under the bus to protect the team's reputation."

"Watch yourself, Carter."

"Or what? You'll bench me too? Go ahead. At least then everyone will know exactly where your priorities lie."

"My priorities are protecting this team. ALL of this team." Coach Reid's gaze swept the room. "Including you, whether you like it or not. Now sit down."

Wes remained standing for a long moment, tension radiating from every line of his body. Finally, he sat.

"The athletic department will assign a temporary trainer starting tomorrow. I expect everyone to cooperate fully with the investigation." Coach Reid's eyes landed on Harper. "That's all. Hit the ice in ten."

The team dispersed slowly, breaking into whispered groups. Harper felt their stares, heard the fragments of conversation.

"—can't believe she would—"
"—always seemed so professional—"
"—what about the championship—"

She turned to leave, needing to escape, but Diego caught her arm.

"Harper, I—"

"Don't." She pulled away. "Just... don't."

She made it to her office before the tears came, hot and angry and helpless. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd built... gone in an instant.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Wes: I'm sorry. Let me fix this.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Some things couldn't be fixed. Some lines, once crossed, changed everything that came after.

The championship loomed two weeks away. The scouts still circled. And now, instead of worrying about Wes's knee or his draft prospects, she had to worry about her career, her reputation, and the growing divide in the team she'd come to think of as family.

All because she'd broken the one rule she'd promised herself she never would: don't fall for a player.

Too late now.