“That’s gross. I know journalists who have integrity, and if they heard about the way she’s been handling things with you, they’d have something to say about it.”
“Most people have strong opinions about it, but because of the fact she wields a pen, which is mightier than the sword, they’re nervous about rocking the boat.” He shrugs. “I can’t blame them. One write-up from her or a social media post can make a player the next pariah.”
“It's pretty unfair, isn’t it?” Becks has managed to snuggle his way in between us and is now snoring. “You would think you could get a little more retribution and not feel so cornered.”
“We just have to ignore what she writes, not that it’s easy when it’s splashed all over the place and our fans see it.” He shakes his head. “She’s giving people fodder to use when we’re on the ice. It doesn’t get ugly all the time, but fans can be pretty mean when they want to be.”
“I hate the thought of people in the stands hurling insults at you, or anyone else for that matter,” I say. “But you’re right. When the press gets involved and makes it public knowledge, it opens up a whole new world of hurt.”
He cocks his head to the right, his eyes taking me in. “And of course, that’s something you dealt with, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s not nice finding out you’re second fiddle, or probably third, because one of your friends saw it blasted on a gossip site.” Closing my eyes, I shake my head like I’m shaking the heaviness of the memory away. “We would have broken up eventually—you know hindsight is twenty-twenty—but I thought he had more class than that. Scratch that; Ihopedhe had more class than that. It stung.”
“Were you in love with him?” Jake asks, his tone trepidatious.
“No,” I respond firmly. “I wasn’t. Could I have fallen for him? Maybe. But I was always wary because of his reputation. AndTravis wasn’t his biggest fan, so that was a red flag, even though he said he supported me if I chose to be with him in the end. It was the public way things went down that made me feel like a turd.”
I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue, and Jake laughs. “I spoke to Travis again, and he’s good with this.”
“This?”
“Us.”
“Us?”
“Stop it,” he says with a blush rolling across his cheeks now. I love it. “You know.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say as I push myself up and walk over to my phone. “Pardon me, sir, but I think I have a text.”
“You’re trying to sidestep the conversation, are you?” he teases.
“Of course I am,” I say with a wink as I look at the screen of my cell phone. Tapping a button, I read the text message from Georgie and sigh. “Oh, man.”
“What’s going on?”
I wave my phone in the air before tossing it back on the table. “My server for tomorrow night just dropped out. She’s not feeling well and doesn’t want to get anyone sick or gross them out with her coughing.”
“At least she pulled out,” Jake says, with hope and positivity in his voice. Which is super cute.
“True, plus I don’t want Georgie getting sicker because she’s doing me a favor.” I chew on my thumbnail. “But this leaves me needing a server.”
Jake lifts his hand in the air. “I can do it.”
“Stop it. You’re not here to be a server at someone’s home.”
“No, but it’ll be fun.” He grabs at my hand and tugs on it, pulling me back down to the floor with him. “You cook, I serve. Like a superhero foodie team.”
“Except one of us is a hockey player by day.” I chuckle. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly so. Think about it. If they happen to be hockey fans, I bet they’ll get a kick out of it and it will only help whatever charity it is that your mother’s working with, right? So it’s a reputation thing, too.”
“Oh, you’re good. You’re learning how to speak Mad Dog on the daily. I bet she is loving having you around.”
“I hope she’s not the only one,” he says quietly, his hand reaching back up to caress my cheek.
I lean my weight into his hand and smile. “She’s not.”
Sitting here on the floor of my little home, I’m surrounded by the best things ever. Brad Pitt, Becks, and Jake. The turtle, the dog, and the hockey player. Sounds like the start of a new joke or a folk song.
