“That’s the difference between Sebastian and you,” I reply harshly. “Seb is in it for the love of the game and nothing else. He doesn’t give a fuck about his image or his brand and he definitely wouldn’t put it before his sister’s needs. I didn’t want people to know, so he didn’t tell anyone.”
“Well, now people know, and I look like a fucking idiot.”
I hear a click in the line and he lets out a string of expletives that sound like one giant swear word. “Don has called three times during this conversation. I have to deal with him. I’ll call you back.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“What do you want me to say, Avery?”
“I’ll call you later,” he barks, and the line goes dead.
Chapter 30
Avery
Maddie sounds truly remorseful as she tells me that she can’t pass her phone to Stephanie because Stephanie didn’t come in to work today. She called in sick. I want to put my fist through something so badly. Maybe if I trash a hotel people will stop asking me about my girlfriend’s past.
“Can you please call her and ask her to call me?” I request in a voice that relays every ounce of my desperation, and I don’t even care.
“I did that last night when you called my phone because hers was turned off,” Maddie explains, and sighs. “But I’ll do it again when I see her tonight. I’ll even call you and shove the phone in her face if I have to.”
“Thanks.”
“Avery, she’s not avoiding you,” Maddie promises, but even she doesn’t sound like she believes it. “I mean, not just you. Reporters got her number somehow and she’s avoiding them. And the HR department at work came by looking for her too. This is a nightmare for her.”
“I know,” I reply swiftly, and then it dawns on me. “You don’t think I know that?”
“It kind of feels like you’re mostly concerned with how it’s affecting you,” Maddie says quietly. “And if I get that vibe, maybe Stephanie does too.”
“Well, if she would talk to me, I could try to fix that,” I counter, even though I have no idea how to fucking fix this. Still I find myself defending my actions. “It is affecting me—every waking moment since the story broke—and it’s hell. But at the same time, I know, obviously, that it’s more hell for Steph. This is her story. Her life and something she overcame just to have it shoved back in her face again, like the person she is now suddenly doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Exactly!” Maddie almost squeals; it’s jarring to have her go from somber to elated so quickly in the conversation. I jerk back a little where I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of the hotel lobby. “Have you said this to her?”
“I didn’t,” I admit, and I feel Maddie’s disdain through the phone. “I only talked to her once and she’s been ignoring my calls. That first call I was…shocked and I didn’t have time to react fully. Or properly. She needs to talk to me, Maddie.”
Ty walks over, adjusting his tie and looking over his shoulder as the last of our team makes a trail from the elevators to the bus parked out in front of the hotel. It’s time to head to the game. I still want to punch something, which is the worst way to go into a game. Fuck.
“I promise I will make her call you,” Maddie says firmly.
I stand up as Ty motions at me. “Thanks. Ty says he’ll call you later.”
“Tell him if he gets a goal tonight he gets a blow job tomorrow night.”
“I am not telling him that,” I reply hotly, and hang up as she laughs.
“What did she say?” Ty asks as I hand him back his phone.
“I would rather die than repeat it,” I tell him with a frown. “But you need to score tonight.”
“Okay.” Ty shrugs. “Any word on Steph?”
“Maddie says the reporters somehow got her number and are calling, which is why she turned off her phone.”
We make our way out the front doors and onto the waiting bus. I listen to the players’ idle chatter as the bus makes its way to the arena. No one speaks to me and I’m glad. It’s been like that since the news broke. My teammates are giving me a wide berth, probably because for the first time in my professional career my face isn’t devoid of emotions. I look as furious as I am, all the time, and I don’t care.
Somehow Coach and the general manager sweet-talked the reporter into editing out all the Stephanie questions and my ridiculous bumbling responses for the final aired broadcast. I couldn’t believe that the reporter had allowed it, but she did, and so she was now officially my favorite. I was going to go out of my way to make it up to her. This was a juicy story—as my father made clear every time we talked. The mighty Avery Westwood has fallen off his high horse. And this reporter had the first scoop on it, the first person to ask me about it, and she willingly vetoed the footage.
