I’d told myself he’d realize it was a mistake. That the night in the hotel, the kiss, the chaos—it would all fade once the season started again. He’d find someone easier, someone safer, and I’d get to go back to being the woman behind the story, not inside it.
But that was a fantasy.
Now it was too late.
Every outlet would link my name to his. Every camera flash, every whisper, every clipped headline—me, the reporter who couldn’t keep her distance.
The worst part wasn’t the fear. It was the guilt.
He’d done this for me. I knew that. I could see it in every punch, every furious word.
And all I could think was: He’s going to lose everything.
My phone buzzed again—Nora, probably, or Cam, or maybe the league PR team ready to feed me a statement.
But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Because no matter how much I wanted to hate him for what he’d done…
All I could feel was the echo of his hands on me, the sound of his voice when he said I was worth fighting for.
And that scared me more than any headline ever could.
I stared at the screen, barely able to breathe, and then did the only thing I could think to do—called Cam.
He answered on the first ring.
“I know,” he said, his voice low and grim.
No preamble. No hello. Just I know.
That was all it took for the pressure in my chest to start building again.
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “Is he okay?”
There was a pause. A silence that screamed.
“He’s… not great.” Cam exhaled hard, like he’d been holding his breath too. “He snapped, Daphne. I think—I think this time he really lost it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back against the wall. “What happened?”
“Blake was on-air, running his mouth. The usual passive-aggressive crap, but then…” Cam trailed off for a second. “Then he made it personal.”
My stomach turned. “How personal?”
Cam hesitated. “He said you slept your way into the locker room. Implied that your… relationship with Kieren was how you got those exclusives.”
Heat flooded my face. I didn’t need to hear the exact words. I could already imagine them. Blake was always circling that line—smirking when he said my name, pretending he wasn’t being deliberately sexist.
But this time, he’d said it live. On a mic.
And Kieren heard him.
“I think he crossed a line,” Cam said, quieter now. “A line not even this fake relationship can fix.”
I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest. My voice barely came out. “Is he in jail?”
“He will be, if the team can’t get the lawyers in fast enough. It’s all over the news already. TMZ’s camped outside the precinct. Some intern just sent me a TikTok of him in handcuffs with Wicked Games playing over it.”
