Page 37 of Ace My Heart

I slumped against the seat and put my face into my hands. God, I hoped that Joel and Sandra weren’t too much longer.

“Mel!”

I instinctively glanced up, to find a camera pointing through the windscreen. Groaning, I turned away, keeping my head down and my hand shielding me from the photographer.

Hurry up, Joel!I pleaded silently.

“What, no smile for me, Mel? I thought you loved the camera! Can I get a moan like you gave Pete Levine? Did you know that Grant is marrying Susie Keens?”

My head snapped up at that, and the jerk got a bunch of shots of my shocked expression.

“Get the fuck away from her you piece of shit!”

Joel appeared with Sandra under his arm. He elbowed the photographer out of the way. I could hear frantic clicking outside the car as Joel got his mother in and slid hurriedly into the front seat.

“I don’t believe that arsehole!” Joel fumed as he drove away. I shook my head, not having the energy to find words. I was utterly spent. All I wanted was to curl up into a little ball in my comfy king-sized bed in Sandra’s house, cuddle Connor, and sleep.

“My ankle’s really sore, Joel,” I said quietly. I spun in my seat to look at Joel’s mother. “Sandra, would you mind if I kept to my room this afternoon, rested up a bit?”

Sandra smiled sadly at me. “Of course not, Mel. Don’t we all wish we could do the same?”

“Did you ever imagine that you would marry Grant?” Joel asked me quietly.

I shook my head. “Of course, my mother would have liked nothing more, but no. We were never going to work long-term – I can see that now. He’s egotistical enough that he needs a woman who will make him feel important. He couldn’t have that with me – he was too jealous of my career.”

Joel surprised me by smirking in my direction. “Stink, every man wants a woman who’ll make him feel important.”

I rolled my eyes. “Joel, your ego’s just as out of control as Grant’s!”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’ve got a hell of a lot tolearn about men, Stinky. But just a bit of advice now: everyone wants their partner to make them feel important. It’s just that everybody has a different idea of what important means.”

“How would you know? The only lasting relationship you’ve ever had is with your hand!”

Joel chuckled but didn’t respond. As usual, that frustrated me more than if he bit back. I’d thought he wouldn’t be able to go a day without being a smart-arse. It turned out I couldn’t either.

CHAPTER NINE

Uncle Ben

We had one more day until we flew out to Dubai. In that time, I hadn’t gone a single day without that lump in my throat reappearing at odd times to choke me. Nightmares still woke me. I no longer screamed out loud, but the strangled gasps that shocked me awake were somehow more horrifying.

One more day of strengthening my ankle. Joel and I were on the tennis court. I balanced on my injured ankle and bounced a ball on my racquet. I’d had a proper ankle brace fitted to offer some extra support. It was still plenty sore, but the pain helped me focus.

Mostly. Today I was too distracted.

Every private thing Pete and I had done together had been analysed over and over by news outlets, sports gossip bloggers and Twitter. I doubted anyone on social media had missed it. This morning I’d finally snapped and gone into social media blackout, deactivating all my accounts until further notice. I had no emotional space to deal with the abusive DMs and comments on my previous posts, about what a whore I was, how I was a bad role model, how I was going to Hell. There were even a couple of death threats peppered throughout.

“Go to the police, Stink, for fuck’s sake!” Joel had said. “That footage getting leaked, all this abuse – it’s fucking illegal!” Heseemed even more incensed than I was about the whole debacle. Like a protective older brother.

I was sure I already knew who leaked it – fucking Pete Levine. I bethewasn’t being called a whore. More likely receiving virtual high fives.

At least when I had contacted the police to make sure it was okay for me to leave the country – that they wouldn’t try to stop me at customs – I’d been given the all-clear.

I lost my concentration for a second, and the ball hit the frame of the racquet, ricocheting away across the court. Joel grunted and retrieved it. I put down my left leg, taking some of the weight off my injured ankle.

“Focus, Mel! Your mind’s wandering,” he said in a clipped tone. He handed me the ball. “Your head’s not a hundred percent in this. Physically you’re fit enough to compete, but mentally you’re struggling!”

I scowled. “Of course I’m not mentally prepared for this! How can you expect that with everything that’s going on?”

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