Page 61 of Second Shot

Around us, the media circus is creeping back toward us, slipping around the bus. My head pounds as more cameras, more microphones, more voices shouting questions that feel like accusations encroach on us. I can see my teammates watching me in shock, Coach Donnelly trying to push through to reach us, security guards finally starting to respond to the chaos.

I turn back to Gabe and his face makes my chest ache. There’s desperation there, the guilt, the fear, the way he looks like he’s drowning. I also see concern for me. For one second, I weaken, wanting to believe him. Wanting to believe that he does love me and that he’d never hurt me. But then I shake myself.

Fuck him.

Let him drown.

“How long?” I ask quietly, my voice carrying despite the noise around us. “How long have you been planning this?”

“I didn’t plan a damn thing. Why can’t you hear me? I swear I wasn’t planning anything,” he insists. “Ryan, I love you. Please, you have to believe me—”

“I don’t have to believe anything you say.” I step back, putting distance between us that feels both necessary and devastating. “You want to know what I do believe? I believe you saw an opportunity for revenge and you took it. I believe you let me think you cared about me so you could humiliate me in front of the entire league.”

“That’s not true.” His voice breaks on the words. “Ryan, please—”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can speak, Coach Donnelly’s voice cuts through everything.

“Everybody back on the bus.Now.” His tone brooks no argument. “Security, clear this area. Nobody talks to anybody until we figure out what the hell is going on.”

But I’m not hanging around. No fucking way. I’m already moving, pushing through the crowd toward the parking lot where my car is waiting. Is Coach crazy? I can’t get on that bus. Can’t sit there while everyone stares at me, while they all piece together what an idiot I’ve been. What a monster I was.

“Ryan, wait.”Gabe’s voice follows me, but I don’t turn around. Can’t look at him again without falling apart completely.

“Mr. Caldwell.” The reporters swarm after me like locusts. “What’s your response to the allegations?”

I reach my car and fumble with the key fob, hands shaking so badly I can barely get the door open. Through the crowd, I can see Gabe still trying to reach me, his face a mask of anguish that almost looks genuine.

Whatever.

I can’t trust anything anymore. Can’t trust my own judgment, my own feelings, my own memory of the past few months. Everything we built together, every conversation, every touch, every moment I thought meant something, was it all just part of his plan? Was I really so blind thatI fell in love with someone whose life I almost ruined? Someone who hated me so much he’d dothisto me?

The engine purrs to life and I pull out of the parking space. In my rearview mirror, I can see the chaos still unfolding, reporters shouting questions, teammates looking confused and concerned, security guards trying to restore order.

And Gabe, standing in the middle of it all, watching my car disappear with an expression that looks like his world just ended.

Good, I think viciously. Now he knows how it feels.

But as I drive away from the arena, from the team, from everything I thought I understood about my life, all I can think about is how wrong this feels. How much it hurts to leave him standing there. How much I still want to believe his denials, even though believing him would only make me an even bigger fool.

The radio in my car has already picked up the story, sports talk hosts discussing “allegations of childhood bullying by Ryan Caldwell.” I turn it off and drive in silence, trying to figure out how everything went so wrong so fast. My career could very easily be over. The team management might decide to unload me before my reputation taints the entire organization.

Fourteen hours ago, we made the playoffs.

One hour ago, I was planning to celebrate with the man I love.

Now I don’t even know who that man really is.

Chapter Fifteen

Gabe

By the time I’m called into the conference room at the Seadragon Center, I already know Coach Donnelly’s been on the phone with half the front office. PR is scrambling to draft a response, the GM is in damage control mode, and someone said ownership’s watching the whole thing unfold on ESPN. But for now, Coach wants answers straight from the source, and that means me and Ryan, but Ryan is MIA.

As the florescent lights flicker overhead, the room feels like a war bunker. Coach sits at the head of the table, his face grim as he scrolls through what I can only assume are increasingly horrific headlines on his tablet. The muscle in his cheek ticks every few seconds, and I know what he’s seeing isn’t improving his mood.

I shift uneasily in my chair, wishing I could go find Ryan, instead of sitting in this meeting. Not that I think that would be an easy task. He’s not answering his phone. My calls go straight to voicemail. No text replies. No blue bubbles, no read receipts. Either his phone’s off or... he blocked me. I even went by his condo earlier, desperate to talk to him, but it was dark and no one answered the door. While it hurts that heobviously believes I was in cahoots with Freddy Morrison, I understand him well enough to forgive him. Ryan’s feeling paranoid right now, and that makes the toxic lies Freddy’s spreading easier to believe.

I’m furious with myself for waiting so long to tell him the truth. This was exactly what I’d feared would happen; that he’d find out the truth from someone else. The way he looked at me earlier today, it broke my heart. He looked gutted. Scared. I don’t blame him one bit because I broke his trust. By omitting to tell him the truth, I betrayed him.

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