Page 117 of Forecheck
I grinned against her hair. “I love you in all ways, too.”
I woke the next morning to find the bed empty beside me. Before I opened my eyes, I strained my ears, listening for any sign of Berkley in the condo.
Only silence and stillness greeted me, the sheets at my side cool to the touch.
Wherever she was, she’d been gone for a while.
“What the fuck?” I grumbled, climbing out of bed and shoving my legs into an abandoned pair of sweatpants before padding out of the room.
“Berk?” I yelled, unsurprised when I received no response. Still, I walked through every room before retreating to grab my phone.
“Hello?” she said when she answered, her tone cold as ice.
“Uhh…hi.”
“What do you want, Brent?”
“What’s with the attitude? Where are you? Why aren’t you still in my bed where you should be?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a snort. “Maybe you should ask the little pop princess you were hanging out with in New York.”
“What the fuck are you—” I began, but Berkley had already hung up.
Each of my subsequent calls went straight to voicemail, and I nearly threw my phone across the room in frustration. I sat down hard at the foot of my bed and dropped my head into my hands.
What the fuck was she talking about? When we’d been in Buffalo, I went from the rink to the hotel to the bus and back. I’d only been out of sight of my teammates when we were sleeping. There had been no time for “hanging out” with a “pop princess,” and even if there had been, why the fuck would I want to? I was really fucking happy in my relationship, thank you very much.
After another minute of wallowing, I knew the only way I’d get answers was to confront Berkley directly. I shot to my feet, threw on a shirt, stuffed my feet into my house slippers, and bolted out the door.
When I reached Berkley’s, I half expected her to leave me in the hallway. Thankfully, she opened up right away, and I nearly went to my knees at her feet.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, face splotchy and tear-streaked, and she didn’t meet my eyes as she said, “What?”
“Can I come in?”
With a heavy sigh, she stepped aside.
I moved into the middle of her living room, crossed my arms over my chest, and stared her down.
“Care to tell me what this is about?”
Wordlessly, Berkley grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter and held the screen out to me. It was pulled up to some sort of tabloid article, an overexposed photo of a man whocouldbe me with his arm wrapped around a tall, skinny woman below the blaring headline.
POP PRINCESS AND PUCK BOY HIT THE TOWN
“Berk, I don’t know what you think that is, but it’s not me.”
She held up a hand. “Save it. You think I don’t recognize you? I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit story you’ve conjured up to get yourself out of this. I will forgive a lot, Brent. I will compromise for you, concede, give away pieces of myself until you’re holding everything I have. But I draw the line at cheating. I will not allow another man to make a fool out of me.”
“I have never cheated on you. I promised you that night in Frankenmuth that I would never hurt you like that, and I’ve kept my word. Why would I want to? You areeverythingto me.”
“This picture was taken while you were in Buffalo, Brent. How do you explain that?”
“How do you even know that’s me? Sure, the guy looks kinda like me, but that doesn’t mean anything. And the only reason you think it was taken in Buffalo is because whoever wrote that said so! Tabloid reporters have a tendency to lie, Berkley.”
“Because I know your face and body better than my own,” she said. “Even in a shitty paparazzi photo, I’d know that’s you anywhere.”
“I have never cheated on you,” I repeated. “I wasn’t with some girl in Buffalo over the weekend. How did you even find that?”
