21. Brooke

The next day, I headed over to Minka"s dorm room. Finals were looming, and the pressure was mounting, a reminder of the life I had momentarily stepped away from. As I entered the room, I found Minka and Levi sitting on the floor, surrounded by a sea of books and notes, their focus intently set on the task at hand. They were going over Morals Ethics in Professional Sports, a subject that felt oddly poignant given the recent complexities of my own life.

It felt like I would never escape from Bradley.

And maybe I didn't want to.

Levi had his notes neatly aligned, his handwriting small but legible as he pointed out key theories and case studies. Minka, on the other hand, seemed to thrive in chaos, her materials spread out haphazardly around her, yet she engaged with the material with a surprising depth of understanding. They both looked up as I entered, their expressions shifting from concentration to welcome.

Well, Minka's was welcoming.

Levi looked annoyed, but he always looked annoyed.

"We"re trying to figure out where the line is drawn between personal and professional ethics in sports," Minka explained, gesturing to a particularly contentious case study they were dissecting. "It"s fascinating but kind of a headache."

I settled down beside them, the familiarity of this academic routine a comforting balm to the tumultuous feelings that had been brewing inside me. As I joined their discussion, I couldn"t help but draw parallels between the ethical dilemmas we were studying and the moral quandaries I found myself entangled in. The concepts of responsibility, integrity, and the consequences of one"s actions in the public sphere suddenly seemed not just abstract theories but tangible realities I was living through.

"Here"s an ethics quandary," Levi muttered, leaning back against the wall, a sudden shift in the air. "Wolfe"s brother is going to be attending Crestwood."

"What?" I couldn"t mask my surprise, the piece of information catching me completely off guard.

"Apparently, he did something at Lakeshore not even his father could protect him from. Rumor has it, it involved the dean"s niece or daughter or something, and now, he"s forced to come here." Levi"s voice was casual, but the gravity of the situation was not lost on me. "I wouldn't be surprised if he fucked her in a classroom and people walked in. Something irredeemable."

I glanced between Levi and Minka, noticing the subtle change in Minka"s demeanor. She was blushing, her gaze fixed on her notes, a clear sign of discomfort.

"You seem pretty pissed off, Kennedy," I said to Levi, trying to gauge his reaction. "You worried he"s going to try something with Minka?"

"Worried? No." Levi scoffed at the thought, dismissing it outright. "Annoyed I"m going to have to see him every day and trust him to play for the Titans, yes."

"So, this has nothing to do with Minka and Sawyer"s history?" I asked skeptically, probing further into the tangled web of personal connections and implications the situation presented.

"What history?" Minka interjected, her voice rising slightly, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"Only that you"ve been engaged for years," I pointed out.

"Forced to be engaged," Minka corrected sharply, her face flushing a deeper shade. "Nothing actually happened between us. And I broke things off with him the day before I got to Crestwood."

"There was that time you got back together with him," Levi muttered, taking a sip of his tea and grimacing.

"You mean, after I found out that you had been hiding something from me?" Minka shot back, her voice tight with accusation. "I"m sorry, I had my grandfather"s legacy to protect. At least, married to Sawyer, I might be able to keep that legacy and not worry about?—"

"You"re not married to Wolfe and you never will be," Levi interrupted, his voice a low growl. "Everything got figured out."

I couldn"t help but smirk at the obvious tension, teasing, "It"s cute how much you love her, Kennedy."

Levi"s glare shot my way, sharp and warning, but he didn"t deny my observation, a silent admission that spoke volumes about his feelings for Minka.

"You know what"s strange," Minka said, pulling her knees to her chest. "We spent an entire quarter in Professor Bradley's class, and not once did he bring up his own personal story about morals and ethics in professional sports."

"Maybe he can"t," I offered, trying to keep my voice casual despite the topic hitting too close to home. "Maybe it"s still under investigation."

"Or the person in question was a juvenile at the time," Levi suggested, musing over the complexities of the situation.

"No way," I said firmly, defending Bradley instinctively. "Bradley is a lot of things, but he isn"t like that. He would never."

"How would you know?" Levi challenged, skepticism clear in his voice.

"My father hired him," I replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my tone. "I kind of got to know him over the summer."

"And who"s to say Bradley didn"t blackmail your father into hiring him in the first place?" Levi went on, stirring the pot of suspicion further. "He needed a job, especially with his ex as cutthroat as she is. And teaching at a school affiliated with the NHL is the first step to fixing his reputation. As long as nothing comes out about anything worse happening, obviously."

"Honestly, I"m more curious how Detroit found out about whatever he did in the first place," Minka said, echoing my own thoughts. "I remember my grandfather being really upset by it. It felt like his hands were tied, almost like he was forced to cut Bradley even though he might have wanted to keep him."

"Isn"t it his choice whether he kept Bradley?" I asked.

"I mean, he does get the final say, but he keeps a Board to figure out the best course of action," she explained. "My grandfather wasn"t arrogant enough to think he knew everything when it came to the right choices for the team."

The conversation left me with more questions than answers, a reminder of the intricate web of personal and professional ethics that surrounded us all, and especially Connor Bradley, whose story was far more complicated than any case study we"d ever discuss in class.

"Minka, do you think you could find out?" I asked, an idea forming in my mind.

Minka furrowed her brows, clearly puzzled by my request. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You"re set to inherit the team," I pointed out. "Don"t you have access to things like that?"

Levi looked at Minka, his curiosity piqued by the suggestion.

"Look," I continued, feeling the need to elaborate on my thought process. "Bradley did something that got him fired, right? Obviously. If Detroit could release him from his contract, he must have violated it. No one knows for sure what he did, though the rumors are rampant, even today, two years later. Let"s say he did sleep with someone he shouldn"t have—a wife, a girlfriend, whatever. If he did that, and only Bradley and the girl knew about it, how did Detroit find out?"

"The girl told," Levi interjected, stating it as if it were the most obvious conclusion. "Obviously."

"Yeah, but what if she didn"t?" I pressed, unwilling to accept the easy answer without exploring all possibilities.

"She did," Levi insisted, his tone indicating he thought the matter was settled. "Everything points to her saying something. If it is the case, her identity was protected. You insist she wasn"t underage at the time, then even more of a reason to think she said something because why else would Detroit hide her identity?"

"That"s assuming he slept with someone," Minka chimed in. "But just because he sleeps with someone, even if they are married, doesn"t give a team the right to release a player from their contract. It's consensual, if not moral. A line would have to be crossed."

"A moral line?" I asked, trying to understand the nuances of such contracts.

"There"s always a clause in a team"s contract that discusses the player representing the team on and off the ice," Minka explained. "Every team words theirs differently, but it"s like a code of conduct is expected to be followed, regardless if it"s hockey season or not."

"Yeah, but how is it that Bradley is fired for something, something we all know it"s not criminal or else he would be arrested, and other hockey players are arrested for assaulting an Uber driver or raping a girl, and they"re still playing for their respective teams?" I couldn"t help but voice the glaring inconsistency.

"Well, first of all, I doubt a team would release a player from their contract without actual proof of rape, if rape even occurred," Levi countered, his tone suggesting the complexities involved in such decisions.

"Yeah, but what I"m trying to say is that"s a hard moral line, isn"t it?" I pushed back. "Why is Bradley punished so badly for something that hasn't been released to the public, but other players who have done much more are punished less?"

"Again, it"s about the team and what they say violates their contract," Minka said, trying to provide some clarity. "I mean, unless Detroit was looking for an excuse to get rid of Bradley, he must have done something bad in order to get fired." She paused, thoughtful. "I could see if anyone will tell me anything, if you want."

My eyes widened at her offer. "Really?"

"Why do you care, Westwood?" Levi asked, arching a brow, skepticism clear in his voice.

"I don"t," I responded quickly, but Minka"s knowing look suggested she wasn"t quite convinced by my denial. I cleared my throat, avoiding her look. "Look, I"m still trying to figure out what I"m doing with my life, and this whole ethical dilemma is fascinating to me. I"m just curious."

"Why don"t you ask Bradley yourself?" Levi quipped, a suggestion that seemed simpler than it was.

"Because I don"t know if Bradley even knows," I answered honestly.

"If we"re going with the theory that he slept with someone," Minka reasoned, "and only two people know that that happened, it can only be the girl who told Detroit."

Or someone who saw, I thought to myself. Bradley"s ex.

The possibility lingered in my mind, an unspoken theory that might hold the key to understanding the intricate web of circumstances that had led to Connor Bradley"s downfall and, consequently, to the peculiar connection that had formed between us.

My mind niggled with something, a thread of thought I couldn"t quite let go of. I turned to Minka, needing clarification. "What did you mean when you said Detroit was looking for an excuse to get rid of a player?" I asked, curiosity piqued by the potential implications of her statement.

"Oh. Well, sometimes, teams look for a way to free up cap space," Minka explained, her voice taking on a tone of resignation. "Honestly, the league put out these new rules that"s just bullshit when it comes to salary caps, and some of these players are signed to long-term contracts, getting millions of dollars. Some deserve it, others have aged up since the initial signing, some are perpetually injured, so they're getting paid and not even playing. So, in order to free up cap space, they might choose to buy out a contract, trade them, that sort of thing."

"And you think firing Bradley is Detroit looking for an excuse?" I probed further, trying to connect the dots between Minka"s explanation and Connor"s situation.

"I don"t know, since I don"t know what he did," Minka admitted, the uncertainty in her voice mirroring my confusion. "I think that"s the biggest problem is the not knowing. As a fan, I"d want to know if I still liked the guy or not."

Levi scoffed at our conversation. "It"s all so annoying," he said, his voice laced with irritation. "The verbiage of my contract with Detroit was so vague that they could get me for anything if they really wanted to."

"Really?" I asked, surprised by his revelation.

"The only reason I still have a contract is because of her," Levi said, tilting his head in Minka"s direction, acknowledging her influence. "And even then, I could still get fired down the road."

"I guess your entire relationship could be a violation of ethics," I teased, unable to resist the opportunity to lighten the mood despite the seriousness of our discussion.

Levi"s scowl was the only response I received.

"I'll see what I can find out and let you know," Minka said.

As our conversation wound down, I began to pack up my things, the weight of everything we"d discussed pressing heavily on my mind. The atmosphere in the dorm room felt charged, a mix of academic stress and the personal revelations that had unexpectedly come to light.

"Where are you going?" Minka asked, her eyes following my movements as I stuffed books and notes into my bag.

"I need to meet with my dad," I replied, trying to sound more confident about the encounter than I actually felt. The thought of facing my father, especially with everything swirling around in my head, was daunting, but necessary.

Minka seemed to contemplate my answer for a moment before nodding. "Don"t forget about the Titans Christmas party next Friday," she reminded me, a brief distraction from the heavier topics that had dominated our study session.

"I"ll be there," I assured her, offering a smile that didn"t quite reach my eyes. The promise of the upcoming event was a small beacon of normalcy in the sea of uncertainty I was currently navigating.

With that, I left Minka"s dorm room, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Contrary to what I had told Minka, my feet didn"t lead me to my father"s office; instead, I found myself walking towards Bradley"s office, drawn by a need to confront the whirlwind of thoughts that his situation had stirred in me. The campus was quieter now, a lull between the end of classes and the beginning of evening activities, allowing me a moment of introspection as I navigated the familiar paths. When I reached his office, I hesitated at the door, gathering my courage before stepping inside.

He looked up as I entered, surprise flickering across his features before his expression settled into something more guarded. The relief that washed over me at finding him alone was palpable; this conversation required privacy, away from prying eyes and ears.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

I waited for a response, something to fill the awkward silence. Bradley"s office reflected him—organized yet lived in, with books and papers meticulously arranged but accessible, sports memorabilia dotting the shelves and walls. It was a space that spoke of his passions and his career, a career that now seemed to be at a crossroads. As he gestured for me to take a seat, I couldn"t help but notice the tension in his posture, the way he seemed to brace himself for whatever I was about to say.

"I"ve been thinking about our conversation the other day," I began, unsure of how to broach the subject without revealing too much of my own distress. "About Detroit, and what happened. And... I have questions." My admission felt like a confession, an opening of the floodgates that I wasn"t entirely sure I could close again.

He watched me carefully, his expression unreadable. I couldn"t tell if he was surprised by my forthrightness or if he had been expecting this conversation all along. Either way, the room felt charged with a tension that was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. I was venturing into uncharted territory, driven by a need to understand him—and, perhaps, to understand myself in the process. This wasn"t just about clearing his name or sating my curiosity; it was about unraveling the knot of emotions and loyalties that had entangled us both.

I would figure out what happened to him, and I would fix it. No matter what the cost.