The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 203

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The drive to the location Linda had provided was filled with anticipation and anxiety. | couldn’t help but reflect on the incredible strength and resilience Linda had shown by agreeing to share her painful story with me. It was

a testament to her courage and her desire to heal and find closure.

As we pulled up to the address, | took a deep breath and steeled myself for the difficult conversation that lay ahead. My interactions with Linda had already revealed the depth of her suffering, and | knew that there was

more to her story that she had yet to share.

Timothy and | found ourselves outside Linda’s door, and | reached to knock lightly on its peeling surface. A long minute passed, and Timothy looked at me, still hesitant about the whole thing. He didn’t get to voice his concerns too soon, because the door creaked open and a head of messy, blonde hair peeked out. | couldn’t help but notice the disarray behind her. The whole place was out of order, with papers and personal items strewn about. It was a stark contrast to the well-kept woman that I’d seen previously, who wouldn't even let a hair out of place unless it was purposeful.

“Linda, hi,” | said carefully, forcing a smile. She lifted her head, revealing pale, skeptical eyes that shifted fromto Timothy. Her solemn expression quickly turned sour. “Why is he here? | thought we were meeting one-on-one.”

| could sense the tension in the room, and Timothy grunted uncomfortably, looking tofor assistance. | quickly intervened, my voice calm and empathetic. “Linda, | apologize for the surprise, but Timothy is here as moral support. He promised to wait outside though, so we could discuss things privately.”

She glared at him once more, still cowering behind the door. | suppose her last interaction with him hadn’t been so pleasant, although she had initiated the hostility. Her long nails dug into the door, leaving crescent marks in the aging paint, and she sighed heavily.

“You may cin,” she told me, avoiding Timothy’s gaze. “| can wait out here,” Timothy decided. | turned to him and tapped his arm reassuringly. “We won't be long.”

When | stepped into Linda’s apartment, the atmosphere was tense and filled with unspoken words. She allowedinside but firmly shut the door, creating a barrier that madefeel slightly cornered. Timothy was right

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Linda plopped herself on the couch, which still held its elegant flair despite the wear and tear she’d inflicted upon it. She leaned over and grabbed the glass of wine that had been sitting on the coffee table and down it in one gulp.

| approached Linda with slow steps, keeping my voice low. “Linda, | promise you, | cin peace. | want to help. you.”

Linda looked atthrough her bangs, her red stained lips twisted harshly. “Help me? How can you help me? What do you want from me?”

Taking a deep breath, | took a seat beside her, though | kept my distance. “Linda, you were right about Mr. Erickson. He targeted you, just as he did with other women in the firm.”

Linda’s eyes widened, and a look of fear flashed across her face. “You're saying you believenow? After everything that’s happened?”

| nodded, my determination unwavering. “Yes, Linda. | believe you, and | want to seek justice for what you've been through. I’m sorry that | was so blind, too caught up in getting ahead that | thought | was immune.”

“You're telling me.” She went to take another swig of wine before realizing her glass was empty. With a lazy grunt, she hauled herself off the couch and stomped into the kitchen. “Want anything?”

With the state of her apartment, | wasn’t sure anything was safe to consume. | shook my head lightly. “No, thank you.”

She grabbed the bottle of wine off the counter and filled her glass, not stopping until it reached the brim. “Suit yourself. Suppose you need your wits about you now. | take it your suing him, yes?”

“You guessed correctly,” | told her. “With your help, I’m hoping we can expose the truth and make sure he can’t harm anyone else. Justice can still be served.”

Linda’s shoulders slumped, and she sauntered back into the living room. If nothing else, she still had her practiced swagger.

“He does it to all his ‘favorite girls,” she said, leaning over the couch opposite of me. “He knew | wouldn’t say ‘no‘ to the success, and he certainly wasn’t clear about how I'd keep it.”

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“His favorite girls,” | repeated her words and fought back a gag. “Does he think he’s running a harem in there, or something?”

“Might as well be.” As she moved to sit up, she stumbled slightly and spilt swine on the couch cushion. The red wine bled right into its creamy surface, adding yet another unflattering stain.

“Let's face it, Evie Sinclair...Our careers are ruined. Speaking up won’t change anything.”

“It's not,” | stated firmly. “Linda, it’s not too late for justice. It’s not just about us; it’s about all the women who have suffered. We can make a difference. We can hold him accountable for his actions and ensure that others won't have to endure what you and | went through.”

Along silence stretched between us, and she sipped pensively on her wine. | glanced briefly at the door, wondering if Timothy was still waiting behind it, or if he’d gone back to his car. It was freezing outside.

“What do you even need from me,” Linda said finally. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and looked in my direction. “What the hell am | supposed to do?”

| drew in a deep breath, catching the lost look in her foggy eyes. “I need an impact statement from you, fi you’d be willing. You don’t even have to go into court, because the statement is all | need.”

Linda’s expression shifted from annoyance to resignation. She cupped the glass in her hands and swirled it around, as if it would produce an answer. | stood up and walked toward her, reaching out.

“| know you're hurting,” | said gently, hoping to appeal to her emotions, to stir the sdetermination and hope that had ignited within me. Despite all that happened, she had endured so much in that office, and | couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer in silence while her story could influence others.

Linda’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she finally spoke up, her voice trembling. “Okay, so let’s say that | write the statement. Don’t expect it to change anything.”

| reached out and took her hand, holding it softly. “It will, Linda, and thank you. Your testimony will be crucial. We're in this together, and we'll do everything in our power to make a difference.”

She looked at her hand, still enveloped in mine, and shook her head. Tiredly, she rolled her eyes and glanced over at the computer on her desk, which had various items tossed all over it.

“I guess | could write something up,” said Linda. “Don’t expect Shakespeare, or anything.”

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“The intent of it is enough,” | assured her, releasing her hand. “Thank you, Linda. | really appreciate it.” +5

She groaned and began wavingaway, already drawing herself from the conversation. “Now, go away. You’re cutting into my time.”

As | left Linda’s apartment, | couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of hope and determination. The truth could finally cto light, and the pursuit of justice was gaining momentum. The culture of silence and complicity that had allowed individuals like Mr. Erickson to thrive was beginning to crumble, and the promise of change and accountability was on the horizon.

Timothy was still waiting outside when | left, and | gave him a thumbs as he looked atquestioningly.

“She agreed?” he asked as we walked down the stairs. “That’s good.”

“She seemed very-hesitant,” | said. “But | think she knew how important it was. She'll send it tobefore the hearing.”

“That’s awesome.” He nodded, though his expression turned dour rather quickly. He paused just as we reached his car, and | looked at him to see what the hold was up.

He started fiddling with his coat sleeves, his eyes downcast. “I feel like crap for not believing you before, for making assumptions about you and your actions. I’m sorry.”

| turned to him, frowning. “Timothy, it’s okay. We all make mistakes, and | appreciate your honesty and your support now. You’re already making it up toby helpingwith all of this. We're in this together, and that means a lot to me.”

Timothy's tone grew firm, and he took my hand in his. Stunned, | met his gaze and found myself speechless at the intensity in his expression. “Il want to make things right for you.”

| forced a smile. “You are. More than you know.”

He lifted his hand, cupping my cheek, and | almost melted into the warmth of his palm. It was like my body. responded before | could, my rationality no longer holding the power it once held.

“When | saw those rumors about you and your boss,” he began, “I think | was more worried that you'd been interested in someone else, that | no longer had a chance.”

He leaned closer, his eyes half—lidded as they drew to my lips. | didn’t realize my hand had cup to rest on his 4/5

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chest until | was squeezing his scarf, as if holding on for dear life. He dipped his head and suddenly his plump lips were pressing against the corner of my mouth.

5

“Timothy...” My voice was trembling now, and it felt like I’d fall apart at any moment. He left a trail of soft kisses down to my chin and into the crook of my neck where he rested his head. | clutched the back of his head, catching a handful of his dark locks.

“I'm here when you're ready for me,” he said in my ear, and a shockwave of electricity pulsed through me. All too quickly, he was pulling away from me, and the smile he wore as he peered down at my shocked expression seemed all too pleased.

“Let's get you home, huh?” he said casually, slipping away. He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for me, and I glared at him as | climbed in. | couldn’t tell if | was shivering from the cold or from that stunt he’d just pulled.

| could still feel the phantom touch of his lips as they almost enveloped my own, then traveled down my neck like he was planting little gifts.

As he jumped into the driver's side and started the car, | caught the sly smirk on his lips and nearly scoffed.

He was enjoying this.