"All that's true, but that was before… before he…" My voice catches, trailing off as tears leak out. I take a shaky breath, trying to continue. "And I didn't tell you because I wanted to be selfish, for once in my life. I wanted to indulge in a fantasy, something that wasn't about him," I concede quietly, the truth I didn't want to admit. "Or hockey. Or headlines. Something just for me. I only wanted to be seen and maybe, feel special to someone… normal. And when I was with you, the pain finally eased, and I could breathe."
Silence stretches between us after I pour my heart out to his back.
"And yet, if we're measuring by the same stick, Bash,you lied to me.” My voice falters, the last words coming out thin and fragile, mirroring the way I feel.
Looking over his shoulder, his expression doesn't soften. If anything, it hardens.
"You didn't tell me who you were," I accuse. "In fact, we agreed to keep our private lives separate. You can't come back now and be mad about it."
"That was before I knew who you were," he mocks. "Jaxson freaking Kingston's wife!"
I swallow thickly. "I didn't think it would change anything."
"And you don't think I deserved to know who I was dealing with?" he shouts. “You need to leave, now!”
He slams the bedroom door behind him, the sound echoing down the hall. I sink onto the bed, trembling, my tears falling freely. My life has devolved into a telenovela within the last half hour.
My chest aches, but I force myself up, wiping my face with my sleeve. Grabbing my suitcase and slinging my purse over my shoulder, I crack open the door and peer into the hall, hoping Bash is gone. The coast is clear. As I shut the door behind me, my phone buzzes, and a text from Nita appears.
Nita:I'm outside.
I take a shaky breath and move quietly down the stairs. The living room is filled with Bash, his family, and the noise of the charity hockey game playing on the television. Everyone's eyes are glued to the screen, watching chaos unfold. With horror, I realize my private trauma is currently being exposed to the world, broadcast like a circus. My stomach knots as humiliation and shame wash over me.
Voices carry through the house, snippets of conversation mixing with the announcer's commentary.
“…a video has surfaced of married hockey star Jaxson Kingston…”
“…scandal…”
“…the crowd is going wild, boos raining down…”
“…look at him on the PuckCam, he's furious…”
“…the girls in the booth that have obviously outed him are the same ones from the footage…”
I cringe as a clip of my second-place finish at the NorthStar Challenge in Vienna, Austria, plays on the screen, my name scrolling across the bottom:Amelia Smith Kingston, daughter of hockey legend Gord Smith.
“Isn't that your friend, Bash?” someone asks.
“That poor girl.” I hear Bash's mother exclaim, followed by low murmurs of agreement from others in the room.
“I never liked Kingston; he’s too arrogant,” said another.
"Not to mention, he's Bash's rival on the ice."
I glance over and notice Bash's cousin Rudy, watching me with a smirk, his eyes glinting with smug amusement.
I make my way to the foyer, moving carefully to avoid attracting more attention. Rudy's gaze, however, follows me relentlessly. Everyone else is absorbed by the television, oblivious to my escape. I slip into my boots and drape my coat over my arm. My hand shakes as I flip the lock and step outside.
Nita waits in her truck, the engine purring softly, wisps of vapor curling from the tailpipe into the crisp winter air. I slide inside, exhale slowly in relief, and realize my tears have dried. My mind is made up. What I leave behind is loud, messy, and unforgiving. So, I steel my spine. I don't need any man to validate my worth.
For the first time in months, I feel a sense of possibility, moving forward with only my true friends. That doesn't include Jaxson or Bash.
“Ready?”
I look back at the cabin, smoke rising slowly from the chimney, the Christmas tree a stark, cheery contrast to the storm in my heart.
“Oh, wait!” I grab the necklace Bash gave me for Christmas last night, the chain resting against my collarbone. With one sharp tug, it snaps and lands in my hand. I fling it through the open window, and it clatters against one of the glass panes on the front door before sliding down. “Shove that, Bash.”
I smile and sit back, fastening my seatbelt with a defiant, brave grin. It hurts, but I'm done with letting men dictate my feelings. “There, now I'm ready.”
Nita looks at me strangely. “Okaaayyyyyy. That needs an explanation.”
I nod. As we drive off, the sky opens up, and snow falls in thick, swirling sheets behind us, erasing the cabin from view.
