Page 57 of Want You

Octavia looked up at Amanda, who tilted her head toward the paper, signifying that Octavia should continue reading.

And read she did. The player who had come forward was anonymous. Coward, she thought. Why not reveal who you are? He went into detail about the kind of things talked about in dressing rooms. Acknowledged that there was an aggressive culture of silence and that despite hating the phrase, the boys will be boys mantra was alive and well within hockey.

She looked up at Amanda when she reached the end, feeling hopeful for the first time in a week.

“It’s something, eh?” Amanda said.

“Who do you think it is?” Octavia asked, knowing Amanda may have a better idea.

Amanda shrugged. “Someone who can string a sentence together in an intelligent way.”

“I wasn’t sure at first. All I was thinking was how this guy is a coward for saying all this stuff without attaching his name to it.”

“And now?”

“Well, it’s a step in the right direction. Maybe I should just be happy about that.” She laughed. “The bar is subterranean at this point.”

Amanda stood and reached for the paper. “Listen, we both know that shit goes on around here and no one says a thing. Why? We like having a job. We hate rocking the boat. This shit”—she flapped the paper—“could be career suicide. He’d be seen as not having his teammates’ backs. Wouldn’t be seen as a team player anymore. He’d be headhunted on the ice. Subjected to hostile and friendly fire. I mean the shit my brother told me about in junior and then begged me to stay quiet about. There’s a code of silence.” She held her hand out when Octavia opened her mouth to argue. “I know it’s different. The stuff they aren’t talking about could be illegal and dangerous. I’m just saying I get why he’d want to remain anonymous. And you’re right, it’s a start. Maybe this will inspire someone else to come forward, and maybe they’ll put their name on it.”

Octavia nodded as she peeked at her watch, releasing a groan. “I have a meeting with Truman. A meeting where the man will spend more time looking at my legs than my face, and you know what I’ll do about it?”

“Nothing,” they said at the same time.

Truman had indeed allowed his eyes to wander beyond Octavia’s face and she’d bit her cheek and shifted uncomfortably instead of saying something. Then on her way back to her office, she did what she always did after a meeting with him, imagined all the things she could have said or done. She had just started to smile at the thought of “accidentally” knocking over his coffee when she heard something from the kitchen that stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Gotta feel for the guys. They just want to play hockey and there’s all this noise distracting from the game.”

“All because some chick wants money. Maybe try working.”

An ugly laugh followed. “The need to bag a hockey player is so pathetic.”

Listening to the two men laugh about serious accusations of sexual assault made her skin crawl. She turned back the way she came, took two steps, and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” she berated herself. Ignoring what was being said under the guise of professional courtesy? There was nothing professional about what was being said in that kitchen. Why was she going to be the “bigger person”? Why was it always on the shoulders of a woman to be the bigger person? And how exactly did ignoring it make anyone the bigger person? Everything was so fucking backwards.

She turned back, walking until she reached the door. Confident until she was about to step into the kitchen, and then she stopped again. This could be damaging to her career. Standing up for herself and other women could ruin everything she’d worked hard for.

This is so unbelievably fucked up, she thought.

“Hey,” she snapped, stepping into the room, freezing momentarily when the two men looked at her.

Both of them were third-year associates. Cockier than they had any reason to be. Law firm poster boys. In short, they sucked.

“This shit wouldn’t happen if pricks like you two called out your bros. You stand in here with your suits off the discount rack, judging a woman for her choices without ever holding the penis havers responsible for theirs. It is always the woman’s fault. She was asking for it. She was wearing inappropriate clothes. She was drunk. She likes hockey players. Women are allowed to like sex, and they are also allowed to say no when things get weird or they become uncomfortable. Women are allowed to change their minds. Hell, you twat waffles like to make fun of us for how frequently we do that. But heaven forbid the result of her changing her mind is you being left with blue balls. Then it’s the end of the goddamn world. Then you deserve to take what you believe you are owed.”

Blue suit opened his mouth and Octavia nearly shoved her finger in it to keep him quiet.

“She was one fucking woman with seven—this many, in case you can’t count that high.” She held up seven fingers. “Seven men in peak physical shape surrounding her. I want you to think for one fucking minute about what you’d do if say…you were being held at gunpoint by multiple people. Would you comply? Would you say or do anything to survive?”

Grey suit shifted and rolled his eyes.

“Oh no, of course you’re thinking you wouldn’t. You’d fight them off because you’re a big, tough man and you could fend off multiple people with a gun, right?” She got close enough that she could smell the everything bagel he had for breakfast. “But in that moment you would do anything they told you to do. So I want you to think about that woman alone with all those guys, and I want you to put yourself in her shoes and guns in their hands. It doesn’t matter if she wanted to ‘bag a hockey player’ or have a good night. She’s saying she didn’t ask for what happened to her. If she’s stating she did not consent to it, then we believe her. Do you understand me? Grow up and believe women for a fucking change. This right here is why we will always pick the bear. For a bear, it’s survival. For men, it’s a game. A conquest.”

Octavia didn’t take a breath until she was leaning against her closed office door, gasping for air and wringing her fingers as her hands shook. When she calmed down a bit, she walked to her desk and fired off a text to the only person she wanted to talk to right now.

CHAPTER 29

NATHAN