Page 134 of Make Me Yours
“Even Waffles is judging you right now,” I say with a grin.
“Whatever,” he replies, picking me up bridal-style. “She can be in charge of the kitchen while you’re gone.”
And with that, we disappear down the hall in a tangle of laughter, kisses, and egg muffin crumbs.
After Steele leaves for practice, I clean the counters, pack up a few muffins for his teammates, and am elbow-deep in a different recipe when my phone rings.
I hit answer on speaker. “Hey, Rina! What’s up?”
“Have you been online at all this morning?”
“Nope, I got up early to start breakfast and bake. Why? What’s going on?” I pause, narrowing my eyes. “What did Oliver do now? Or is it Zane and his barely-legal girlfriend?Please tell me they’re not plastered all over Railers Rumors again.”
Instead of laughing, she remains strangely quiet.
“Rina?” I drop the spoon into the mixing bowl and wipe my hands as unease skitters down my spine.
“It’s Steele.”
My stomach pinches. “What about him?”
She exhales. “Railers Rumors posted a photo of you two, and it’s going viral.”
“Okay, so what? Why is that a big deal?”
“It was taken at Gold Coast Table. You’re standing in front of him, and his hand is wrapped around your throat.”
The image slams into me like a flashbang. I remember the moment. It’s when he asked if I’d made a decision yet.
“I don’t understand.”
“The angle makes it look like he’s choking you,” Rina says, tone uncharacteristically low. “Like he’s hurting you.”
“H-he wasn’t. He didn’t.” My voice trembles. “That’s n-not what it was.”
“I know. Iknow,Lila. But the internet doesn’t care about that. Comments are already flooding in. People are calling him abusive.”
My stomach flips. I press a hand to it, trying not to throw up. “This can’t be happening.”
“Just… don’t look at it. I’m working on it. I’ve already contacted the site to try to get it taken down, but it’s spreading fast. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Rina,” I whisper.
We hang up, and despite her warning, I open the browser and type in Steele’s name.
It’s the first image that pops up.
They zoomed in, cropped out the world, and left only a story they wanted to tell.
My expression is caught in a moment of raw need that looks reckless without context.
His hand, always steady and worshipful, becomes something darker through a lens hungry for scandal.
Something sharp twists in my gut as I scroll through the comments.
I’m not surprised. He’s always been aggressive on the ice.
He’s clearly controlling her.
