Read Player Misconduct By Kenna King Chapter 25 –
It’s been almost a week since the fight at the Hawkeyes stadium where Aleksi defended me, breaking Tarron’s nose and it’s the first time I’ve traveled out much since then with the press everywhere trying to keep this story alive.
Penelope and Chelsea have been able to plug enough “sources close to say” in regards to Aleksi just being a player defending the team doctor against her ex-husband. It’s not catching on like wild fire but at least it’s diluting some of the rumors. And luckily, Tarron has been keeping his head down too… for once.
Vivi’s kitchen smells like fresh baked cookies as I walk in. The kind of lived-in comfort that makes you believe everything will be okay even when you know it won’t be.
I sit at the island, hands wrapped around a mug I haven’t touched in twenty minutes, watching the steam curl and fade into nothing. Across from me, Vivi’s chopping vegetables with more force than necessary, her knife hitting the cutting board in sharp, decisive thwacks that punctuate the silence. Cammy’s helping Trey’s nine year old daughter Adeline, and Kaenan’s daughter Berkeley roll out another sheet of cookie dough for their cookie cutters.
Apparently the Little Hawk’s hockey team is running a fundraiser and the girls are volunteering to make cookies the shape of hockey pucks and goalie nets.
Peyton’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes tracking me like I’m a patient she’s trying to diagnose. And Isla—Isla’s sitting to my right, close enough that our elbows brush every time she shifts while mixing up different icing colors and filling the icing piping bags for the girls. He’s close enough that I can feel her worry radiating off her and onto me.
The guys are all over at Kaenan’s place watching a pay-per-view fight so it’s all estrogen in the house at the moment. Except for Adeline’s male cat Phineas, a ginger tabby cat, who they got from the cat rescue in town a few months back, and who keeps trying to jump into my lap as if he can smell sadness.
They’ve been watching me like this for the last hour. Waiting for me to say something, all while keeping small talk moving around Vivi and Trey’s huge kitchen to keep the girls distracted from the drama going on in my life. They’re too young to have to worry about a doctor getting knocked up by her hot Finnish hockey player patient, who broke the nose of her ex-husband last week, all while trying not to lose her license.
Having the girls here is the only reason why I haven’t been steam rolled with questions but this is the girls last batch of cookies to bake before getting ready for bed, I know they’ll all pounce on me.
My phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up with another notification. I don’t have to look to know who it is. The rhythm of the messages has been steady all morning—a suffocating sound that I wish I could drown out.
Vivi’s knife stills. ‘That’s the fifth time in ten minutes.’
‘I know,’ I say quietly.
Peyton leans forward, eyes narrowing. ‘Is it him?’
Her eyes dart towards the girls who are chatting about color schemes for the pucks as if just plain black doesn’t give enough creative flare. I’d have to agree, but no one asked me
I nod once, short and sharp, because saying his name out loud feels like giving him space in this room he doesn’t deserve.
‘Tarron?’ Cammy whispers after moving away from the girls to let them go crazy with their cookie cutters now that the cold dough is rolled out evenly.
I flip the phone over so the screen goes dark. ‘Yeah.’
‘What could he possibly have to say after that stunt?’ Vivi’s voice is sharp, protective, filled with the kind of fierceness that makes you feel less alone even when you’re drowning.
“What stunt?” Adeline asks, turning around to face Vivi.
“Nothing for you girls to worry about. Go ahead and finish cutting out the cookies and then Cammy will put them in the oven. Then it’s upstairs for brushing your teeth and bedtime. You can decorate the cookies in the morning when they cool completely.”
Cammy turns back to them and helps move the cookies to the baking sheet as they cut them out, moving the process along.
I take a slow breath.
‘That it was a ‘minor fall off the wagon,” I say, my voice flat. I keep an eye on the girls as I speak, but they are singing some Disney princess song now and aren’t paying attention. ‘That he’s getting help. That Aleksi overreacted. That he never would have hurt me.’ I pause, swallowing hard. ‘That he’s doing this all for me and the baby.’
“Perfect. All done. These look amazing girls,” Cammy says, taking the tray to the oven and slides the tray inside, setting a timer.
“Off you go. Goodnight girls. I’ll be back in the morning to pick you up after breakfast” Isla tells Berkeley, as Adeline follows and they head for the stairs.
‘Unbelievable,’ Isla mutters, shaking her head, as soon as we hear the girl’s feet dancing in the upstairs bathroom. ‘The man crashes your game drunk, grabs you in front of half the media in Seattle, and now he’s the victim?’
‘That’s what addicts do,’ Cammy says softly, her tone gentler now. ‘They rewrite their own story. Make themselves look like the hero even when they’re the villain.’
I stare into the dark surface of my coffee, watching my reflection warp and blur. ‘He says he has a meeting with his coach and GM. That he can still turn everything around. For me and the baby. I wish he’d just leave me alone and stop making everything worse.’
‘You don’t owe him a single thing,’ Vivi says, setting the knife down with more force than necessary. She braces her hands on the counter, leaning forward, her eyes locked on mine. ‘What about Aleksi?’
The question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable.
I close my eyes, pressing my lips together, willing myself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
The truth is, he’s the only one I want to hear from… the only one I want to talk to about all of this. But no matter how many times I play out my upcoming audit with the medical board, I only see one option that might save Aleksi. It’s not even a good option but it’s that or nothing.
I can’t let him lose the NHL… the Stanley Cup– everything that he and his father worked for.
‘I’m protecting him,’ I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
Silence.
It’s the kind of silence that feels like a room holding their tongue like they all want to say something but know I won’t receive it well.
Peyton’s the first to break it. ‘What’s the worst case scenario… really?’
I shape my head and stare back down at my cup. ‘Worst case is I lose my license… which is a given, the NHL comes down hard on the Hawkeyes, sanctioning the team, forcing them to trade Aleksi to God-only-knows-where but likely no where my son will get to see his dad regularly, and team sanctions that could hurt or make them ineligible for the draft and the playoffs.’
‘That’s not good,’ Isla says, filling the last piping bag with a neon green color .t ‘And you think somehow not talking to Aleksi is going to protect him? How?’
‘I already talked to the insurance lawyer. If they have a case they’ll want to move forward with taking away my license, then I have the option to contest it. It’s an expensive process which takes resources from the medical board , the hospital, and my insurance company. I’m willing to not contest if they leave Aleksi and the Hawkeyes out of it and don’t get the NHL involved,’ I say, pulling my hand away. ‘My lawyer isn’t sure it will work, but I have to try.’
Vivi straightens, her expression shifting from anger to something softer, more dangerous—pity. ‘Kendall—’
‘I have a hearing next week,’ I cut in. ‘The medical board. They emailed me three days ago. My lawyer says the allegations have merit. This is my only option to try to save Aleksi’s season and everything he’s worked for.’
The room goes still.
‘What allegations?’ Cammy asks carefully.
I force myself to say it out loud, to give voice to the thing that’s been eating me alive since the email arrived. ‘They’re saying the relationship affects my professional judgment. That the hallway fight was proof. That I can’t be trusted to make impartial decisions when it comes to Aleksi.’
‘That’s insane,’ Peyton says, her voice rising. ‘The tunnel fight happened because your drunk ex grabbed you. Aleksi was protecting you.’
‘While injuring his hand and breaking Tarron’s nose. I took an oath as a doctor to do no harm… this is considered harm,’ I say, my voice breaking on the words. ‘Because now they can say I was involved with a player under my care. That my emotions compromised my ability to do my job. That I put the team at risk.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Isla says quietly.
‘Fair doesn’t matter,’ I say, my throat tight. ‘Not to the board. Not to the league. They’re going to drag Aleksi into this. If I fight it, it’ll go public. The NHL will have to get involved. I can’t let that happen. I have to go quietly. It’s the only bargaining chip I have.’
‘And you’re not telling Aleksi this because?…’ Peyton asks.
‘Because he’ll never let you do it. He’ll try to step in and protect you,” Vivi says, as if she knows exactly how that goes… and she does. Trey showed that time and time again for her. JP gave up his career for Cammy, and Hunter turned down moving to New Jersey to be with Peyton.
They all know that you can’t convince these boys to do what is best for their careers. Every time they pick the woman they love. And Aleksi would pick me and Niko over everything.
Vivi’s the one who finally speaks, her voice soft, sad. ‘You’re not living in the house, are you?’
I shake my head, my hand still pressed to my belly like it’s the only thing anchoring me. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’ Isla asks, her voice thick with emotion.
‘Because it feels wrong now,’ I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. ‘He bought it for us, not for me to sit in alone. He should live there. The baby will still have it—it’s in the trust. But me? I don’t belong in that house.’
‘You do,’ Vivi says fiercely, her eyes shining. ‘He wanted you there. He needs you there.’
I smile, but it’s the saddest thing I’ve felt in weeks. ‘He wanted a family there. And I was starting to see it, too. Him, the baby… all of it coming together.’
‘And now?’ Cammy asks gently.
‘Now it’s just a house again,’ I say, my voice cracking. ‘I was going to ask him to move in on the day the movers came. I had it all planned out. I was going to tell him that I wanted to try. That I was ready.’
‘So do it,’ Peyton says. ‘Tell him now.’
I shake my head, the tears finally spilling over. ‘I have no idea what tomorrow even looks like. I’ve worked my whole life to become a doctor. Who am I without it?”
‘He’ll take care of you,’ Peyton says, her voice breaking. ‘He wants to take care of both of you. Let him.’
‘And rely on a man like my mother always did?,’ I say, my voice barely a whisper. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. But I just need to get through this first and I can’t see or talk to Aleksi until it’s over or else I’ll tell him everything… I know I will. I need to wait until it’s all over and the deal is struck with the board before I can see him.’
No one says anything after that.
Because what is there to say?
I’m not asking for their permission. I’m not looking for their blessing.
I just need their support, and a promise they won’t tell Aleksi until my lawyer makes the deal. Then after that, once the dust settles, maybe there’s still a life there for us… and maybe there isn’t. After pushing him away like this… he might not want me back.
The law office for the medical board smells like old paper and lots of money.
I sit in the waiting room, hands folded in my lap, trying to look calm even though my pulse is racing so fast I can hear it in my ears. The chairs are leather, the kind that creak when you shift, and the walls are lined with framed degrees and certificates.
My lawyer—Richard Palmer, is in his late fifties, and gray at the temples. Is currently sitting across from me, reviewing notes on his tablet. He’s been doing this for thirty years, he told me during our first consultation. He’s seen it all. Helped doctors through malpractice suits, license suspensions, ethics violations. He’s the best in the state, and he’s who my medical insurance hired to take this on.
‘Dr. Hensen,’ a voice calls from the hallway.
I stand, smoothing the front of my blazer, forcing my legs to carry me forward even though every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run.
Richard follows, his presence a quiet reassurance at my back.
We’re led into a conference room that’s all dark woods and looks expensive. The kind of place designed to make you feel small. A long table dominates the center, flanked by black leather chairs. At the far end, three board members sit in a row, flanked by two assistants and a stenographer whose fingers are already poised over her keyboard.
The chairwoman—Dr. Helen Pierce, according to the nameplate in front of her—gestures to the chairs across from them. ‘Please, sit.’
We do.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Dr. Pierce opens a file, her eyes scanning the first page with clinical detachment. ‘Dr. Hensen, you’ve been made aware of the allegations?’
‘Yes,’ I say, my voice steady even though my hands are shaking in my lap.
Her eyes darted down to my almost seven month belly. A physical sign to match the allegations.
‘You are accused of engaging in an inappropriate relationship with a player under your medical supervision, resulting in a potential conflict of interest,’ she continues, her tone flat, dispassionate. ‘This relationship allegedly compromised your professional judgment and led to an altercation that resulted in the injury of two individuals—one of whom is currently under your care.’
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet her gaze. ‘Yes, I understand.’
‘The board has reviewed the evidence,’ Dr. Pierce says, glancing at her colleagues. ‘Video footage from the event, statements from witnesses, and medical records from the player in question. We’ve also received correspondence from the Seattle Hawkeyes organization confirming that you have temporarily stepped down from your position due to maternity leave and the results of this investigation.’
Richard leans forward, his voice calm and measured. ‘Dr. Hensen acted in good faith throughout this situation. She stepped down as to not cause additional harm to the Hawkeyes organization or its players in the form of media scrutiny. The altercation you’re referring to was initiated by her ex-husband, who was intoxicated and became aggressive. The player in question intervened to protect her. The media escalated the situation beyond anyone’s control.’
One of the board members—a man wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a perpetual frown—speaks up. ‘The fact remains that Dr. Hensen’s involvement with this player created a situation in which her professional objectivity was compromised. The altercation, regardless of who initiated it, resulted in injuries that required medical attention. We have a duty to ensure that physicians under our jurisdiction uphold the standard of care expected of them.’
‘The player who intervened was acting out of concern for Dr. Hensen’s safety,’ Richard counters. ‘He was not under her direct care at the time of the altercation. And the injuries sustained were minor and there is no saying as to what would have happened to Dr. Hensen at the hands of her ex-husband has he not stepped in—’
‘Mr. Palmer,’ Dr. Piece interrupts, her voice sharp. ‘We’re not here to debate the severity of the injuries, nor the domestic altercation between Dr. Hensen and her ex-husband. We’re here to determine whether Dr. Hensen’s conduct meets the ethical standards required of a licensed physician.’
I can feel the room closing in, the walls pressing tighter with every word.
This is it.
This is the moment where everything I’ve worked for—every late night, every exam, every patient I’ve saved—comes down to a single decision.
And I know what I have to do.
‘If I don’t contest the allegations,’ I say, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade, ‘and I accept whatever disciplinary action the board decides—would that prevent you from escalating this to the NHL or recommending sanctions against the team?’
The room goes still.
Dr. Pierce’s eyes narrow slightly, her gaze sharp and assessing. ‘You’re offering to accept a penalty without a hearing?’
‘Yes,’ I say, my voice steady now, resolute. ‘As long as this stays off the ice. As long as the team isn’t punished for my mistakes. This would save time and resources for both the board and my insurance company. I think this could be an agreeable outcome.’
Richard turns to me, his expression somewhere between shock and frustration. ‘Dr. Hensen, I would strongly advise against—’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ I say quietly, not looking at him. ‘This is my choice.’
Dr. Pierce exchanges a look with her colleagues, a silent conversation passing between them that I can’t read.
Finally, she speaks, but she seems intrigued by my offering. ‘You’re currently not working with the team?’
‘I’ve stepped down temporarily with the GM’s agreement,’ I confirm. ‘In the best interest of the players and the organization. I don’t want them dragged into this mess if it can be further avoided. These players have worked their entire lives to play at this level.’
Her eyes focus deeper on me, her eyes darting again down to my belly. ‘And you’re prepared to accept whatever penalties we impose?’
‘Yes.’
Another long silence.
Then Dr. Pierce closes the file, her expression unreadable. ‘We’ll take your request under consideration. We’ll have another hearing after we’ve had time to process the information at hand and the information you’ve provided today. We’ll have our decision at the next hearing in a week.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
A week longer of ignoring Aleksi feels like a lifetime. The ache of missing him is growing stronger everyday, but I can’t risk it. I can’t risk him trying to do what he does best… protect me.
The rain starts the moment I step outside.
Not a drizzle. A downpour.
Of course.
Richard holds the door for me, his expression tight, disapproving. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘I did,’ I say, my voice flat.
‘You could’ve fought this,’ he says, following me down the steps. ‘You were a doctor who helped save a passenger’s life on a flight. The board might have seen the extenuating circumstances of how you and Mäkelin’s relationship started. They might have been lenient.’
I shake my head, pulling my jacket tighter around me even though it’s already soaked through. ‘It’s not worth the risk if it drags him down too. I can give up my license quietly. It’s my best option to protect him. The board has to answer for this…and I want something in return. If we can make an agreement where we both get what we want, I’ll take it.’
He stops, studying me with an expression I can’t quite read. ‘This isn’t just some player you slept with once, is it?’
My throat tightens, and I force myself to meet his gaze. ‘No. He’s… everything. But I never would have given us a chance if we hadn’t been stuck in that motel. He’s protected me ever since that night. This is my chance to do the same for him.’
Richard nods slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. ‘It’s not the road I would’ve advised, but good luck, Dr. Hensen. I’ll see you next week at the decision hearing.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, and I mean it.
He turns and walks back toward the building, leaving me standing alone in the rain.
The studio feels smaller than it did this morning.
The walls close in, the silence pressing down like a weight I can’t shake. I peel off my soaked jacket, my shoes, my socks, and stand in the middle of the room, dripping onto the hardwood floor.
Everything I own is still here. Still packed. Still waiting for a move that’s never going to happen.
I sink onto the floor, back against the wall, and let the exhaustion wash over me.
Niko shifts, a slow roll that feels like a question.
What are we doing, Mom?
‘We’re protecting him,’ I whisper, my voice cracking. ‘Even if he doesn’t understand. Even if it hurts.’
Because that’s what love is, isn’t it?
Not just holding on. But knowing when to let go.
Maybe that’s the only thing I know how to do.
