“Because I’m one of them,” I say plainly.
The stories circulating about me online may not be true, but I’ve clearly left enough of a mark on people that they believe it without a shadow of hesitation.
A pained expression flickers across her face.
“You mean like the old adage,takes one to know one?”She asks, but by her tone I can tell she doesn’t quite agree.
“Exactly. Birds of a feather, and all that.” I can’t quite explain why, but I have an intense urge to explain myself to Poppy. To make sure she knows the truth. “You know, I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, but what they’re saying about me and those women, it’s not the whole story. I never did anything…”
My voice trails off, and now it’s my turn to glance down at my feet.
“I believe you.” Her voice is soft and tentative and sure. She doesn’t ask for any more details. Like my word is justgood enough.“For the record, I’ve never thought you were an asshole.”
I look back at her and shake my head.
“You might be the only one.”
The Heartwood RecreationCentre is roughly half the size of the gym I’m used to training in. Hell, it’s roughly half the size of the gym in my basement. But I couldn’t care less today, because all I need is a treadmill, and enough time to run until my legs give out.
Usually, I hit the slopes when I’m pent up and stressed, but Dan and Brooke were very clear about one thing. I can’t show my face around Banff. Not with all the media there for the some of the biggest events in skiing all year.
My heart is pounding, my lungs are heaving, and my legs are on fire. But I keep putting one foot in front of the other, letting my anger and tension dissipate through the soles of my running shoes.
I know Dan told me to specifically stay off all social media, but it’s easier said than done when you’re the hot button topic of the entire ski season. Some of the stories they’re spinning about me, my relationships—or lack thereof—are ridiculous, and borderline sinister. Damaging.
The rumours circulating online paint a picture of me out of twisted words and blatantly fabricated lies. That I not onlyallegedlyfooled around with another skier’s girlfriend and allof her friends, but that I’mallegedlygetting special treatment by being allowed to stay on with Nuclear.
My phone screen lights up with Dan’s name and I pound the emergency stop button on the treadmill, holding onto the side rails and hopping off the spinning belt. I answer his call without words, just audible, ragged breaths. I’m hoping he has a positive update for me.
“What the fuck are you doing breathing like that?” Dan asks by way of greeting. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”
“Running,” I wheeze.
“Thank god.”
“What’s up Dan?” I ask, my breathing evening out slightly.
“Good news and bad news,” he answers.
I close my eyes and roll my head from side to side. “It’s all bad news at this point.”
“The good news is that your lawyers have been able to follow up on some of the blatantly slanderous comments online and have sent strongly worded cease and desist letters,” Dan explains.
It’s not exactly a glowing update.
“And the bad news?”
“Some text messages were leaked to the press.”
“What the fuck?” I shout.
A couple of elderly women speed walking with ankle weights on the treadmills beside me give me sidelong glares.
“What, like I was hacked?”
“No, Jett. It’s twenty fuckin’ twenty-five. It’s not that easy to hacktext messages,” Dan says. “Did they have the best beer in the world or something?”
“What?”
