Page 166 of Shots & Echoes

The Athletic Director cleared his throat. “However…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “We need to address some concerns regarding your recent choices.”

Choices? My pulse quickened as I met their eyes—Chambers sat back. It made me want to scream.

“Specifically,” he continued smoothly, “the nature of your relationship with Coach Callahan's son has raised red flags.”

My stomach dropped as those words echoed in my mind: inappropriate relationship. My skin prickled with heat, but I kept my expression neutral.

The Program Lead pressed on. “There are power dynamics at play here that we can’t ignore.”

“Power dynamics?” I echoed, incredulous. “You’re talking about my performance and coaching—nothing else.”

“Performance aside,” the Athletic Director interjected gently but firmly, “we’re concerned about how this may appear to others within the program.”

Image concerns—that stung more than I expected.

“Is this really about how I’m playing?” I challenged them, feeling defiance bubble up inside me. “Or is it about what you think people will say?”

Chambers leaned forward slightly. “This isn’t just speculation anymore; it’s become an issue of conflict of interest.”

I felt trapped under their scrutiny and it hurt more than I thought possible. This wasn’t about my skills or talent anymore; they were scrutinizing me for who I cared about.

“We’re not here to punish you,” the Program Lead added quickly, though her tone was anything but comforting.

I fought against the tightening grip of panic rising in my chest, desperate to maintain control over a situation spiraling out of my hands.

Chambers leaned in—his voice smooth but sharp. “Your relationship with Callahan has complicated things.”

I stiffened. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. They already knew.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady, though it felt tight in my throat. “Coach Callahan pushed me to be better. That’s why I made this team. My performance speaks for itself.”

Chambers tilted his head, a look of amusement crossing his face as if he’d heard it all before. The condescension made my skin crawl. “Your performance is exceptional, Iris,” he acknowledged, leaning back slightly as if giving me some room to breathe. “But Team USA is more than just skill. It’s about integrity. It’s about representing the country with pride—on and off the ice.”

The words stung, a slap across the face wrapped in polite concern. I opened my mouth to protest but couldn’t find the words; they felt heavy in my chest like stones pulling me under.

What did he know about integrity? What did any of them know?

Knox had been my lifeline, not my downfall. He was the one who saw potential in me when others didn’t—a harsh coach with an unforgiving past, sure, but also a man who had taught me how to fight for what I wanted.

I forced myself to sit taller, to push through the rising tide of fear threatening to drown me. “You think you can question my dedication? You think I don’t care about this team?”

Chambers leaned forward again, his gaze piercing through me like an arrow aimed at my heart. “It’s not about questioning your dedication; it’s about protecting the image of our program.”

His words were calculated, designed to undermine everything Knox had built within me—every ounce of grit and fire he’d instilled during those grueling practices that pushed me beyond limits I never knew existed.

“This isn’t just a game for us,” he continued smoothly, like oil on water. “This is your chance to represent something greater than yourself.”

“I know what this means,” I snapped back, unable to keep the edge from creeping into my voice now. “And I’m not going to let you take that away from me because you want someone else on your roster.”

Chambers narrowed his eyes—an animal sizing up its prey.

The air thickened around us as tension mounted, but I refused to back down. Not now—not ever again.

The Athletic Director nodded, disappointment etched into every line of his face. “This… situation has put a spotlight on you. And not in the way we hoped.”

My stomach twisted. I heard what they weren’t saying:You’re not the golden girl anymore. You’re the scandal. You’re the cautionary tale.

A flush crept up my neck, heat mixing with the icy dread settling in my chest. I fought against it, fighting to hold onto the remnants of my composure.