Everyone knows what you are.
I walked into the employee bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, dark circles under my eyes, wearing yesterday's clothes because I'd been too exhausted to change. I looked like someone barely keeping herself together.
And somewhere across town, Easton was probably being told he'd screwed up by defending us. Probably being asked to explain why he'd put his hands on a photographer. Probably being reminded that his image, his brand, his career all depended on him not making scenes like yesterday.
I splashed water on my face and tried to pull myself together.
This was all my fault.
And I had no idea how to fix it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Easton
The puck hit the boards with a satisfying crack, but I didn’t feel any of the usual satisfaction. Morning practice should have been routine.
Instead, it felt like everyone was watching me, waiting to see if I’d crack under the pressure.
I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Casey’s terrified face as the photographer followed her. Heard Palisade’s shaky voice when she called asking for help.
Felt the rage that had consumed me when I physically removed that asshole from the clinic.
“Henley! Focus!” Coach Martin’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I reset for the drill, but my mind wasn’t on the ice. It was at the meeting I was about to have with management. The one where they’d undoubtedly tear into me for yesterday’s incident.
The one where my captaincy would be on the line.
“Nice of you to join us,” Beck muttered as we lined up for the next rep. “You’ve been in your head all practice.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, well, get it sorted before the game tomorrow. We need you sharp.”
I nodded, running the drill, but my heart wasn’t in it. How was I supposed to focus on hockey when my daughter was too terrified to go to school? When Palisade’s clinic was being review-bombed by internet strangers?
When everything I’d worked for was crumbling because I’d chosen to defend my family?
Practice wrapped up, and I headed straight to the locker room. I was halfway through changing when Coach Martin appeared at my stall.
“Management is ready for you. Conference room, five minutes.”
My jaw locked. “Got it.”
“Listen, Easton, keep your cool in there. They’re not happy, but losing your temper won’t help.”
I was heading to the press room when I spotted Aaron in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his phone pressed to his ear.
"I said I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Just drop it."
He ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket with more force than necessary. When he looked up and saw me, his jaw tightened.
"Henley."
"Aaron." I studied the shadows that had formed under his eyes and noticed how stiff his shoulders were. "You good?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" His voice, defensive and laced with barely suppressed anger, was mirrored in his balled fist.
