“I fucked this up,” I say, my voice shaking openly now. “I hurt her. I hurt everyone. I know this is on me. I’ll take whatever suspension, fine, media blackout you want. I just need the statement to be honest. I won’t lie anymore.”
The room is silent again, but it’s different now. Heavier. More human.
Coach leans forward, forearms on the table. “We tell the truth,” he says. “All of it. No spin.”
Laura nods. “We’ll emphasise accountability. Remorse. The fact you came forward. But understand this—” She meets my eyes. “Fans aren’t going to forgive you overnight. Some never will.”
I nod once. “I know.”
“And Rose?” management asks carefully.
My throat tightens painfully. “I need to see her; I have to go find her. She deserves the truth more than anyone. Even if it costs me her.”
Mark turns his laptop around, already drafting the official statement. “Then this is what we say.”
I stare at the screen, at the words forming that will define me publicly from now on. Not the golden boy. Not the headlineathlete. Just a man who made a terrible choice and is finally standing still long enough to own it.
Outside the conference room, the rink hums with playoff energy that feels a lifetime away.
Inside, I sit with my hands shaking, heart raw and exposed, knowing there’s no relief coming yet.
No forgiveness or reassurance. No message from Rose. Just truth.
And the hope that telling it, fully and finally, won’t be too late.
CHAPTER FORTY
ROSE
Ibreak the moment the door closes behind us.
One moment I’m upright, holding it together with clenched teeth and pure spite, and the next I’m folding forward, a sound tearing out of my chest that doesn’t even feel human. Clara barely has time to drop her bag before her arms are around me, steady and solid, catching me as my knees give out.
“I know,” she murmurs instantly, like she doesn’t need me to explain. And she can feel the weight of it shaking through me. “I’ve got you. Just—cry. Let it out.”
I sob into her shoulder, my fingers twisted into the fabric of her jumper like I’m afraid if I let go ofanythingI’ll completely unravel. My chest aches, my throat burns, and my head feels too full, and it might split open from the pressure of everything I’ve been holding back since the story broke this morning.
“I feel so stupid,” I choke, the words coming out broken and ugly. “I feel—God, I feel so fucking stupid.”
“You’re not,” Clara says fiercely, tightening her grip. “Rose, you’re not.”
But it doesn’t matter what she says. The thought has already rooted itself deep in my chest, sharp and poisonous. I trusted him. I let him into places I don’t letanyone. I believed him when he looked at me like I was safe. And now every single memory feels tainted.
I pull back just enough to wipe my face with the sleeve of my jumper, then immediately start crying harder when I see the pity in Clara’s eyes. Not judgement. Not shock. Just heartbreak on my behalf, and somehow that makes it worse.
“He knew,” I say hoarsely. “He knew the whole time. He knew it was me.”
Clara’s mouth presses into a thin line. She doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t try to soften it. She lets me say it.
“He found me in the hospital,” I continue, my voice trembling. “He stood there and looked at me and let me talk about how scared I’d been. How I couldn’t stop shaking. How I didn’t even see the other car until it was too late.” My breath hitches violently. “And he didn’t tell me.”
The room feels too small. The air too thick. I pull away from her and pace a few steps, dragging my hands through my hair, the motion frantic. “I trusted him,” I whisper. I told myself Talia was just bitter, that she was trying to get in my head.” A shallow laugh slips out. “Turns out she didn’t even have to try too hard.”
Clara swears under her breath.
“I feel like everything between us was fake,” I say, the words tearing at my throat as I say them aloud. “Like every look, every touch, every time he told me I mattered—how am I supposed to believe any of it now?”
I sink onto the sofa, curling forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor hoping it might give me answers. “He didn’t just lie to me,” I say. “He built a whole relationship on it.”
