Page 114 of Power Play
I stare at the blinking cursor for what feels like hours.
Then, finally, I type.
Sophie.
Just her name. That’s all I can give her right now. The digital equivalent of falling to my knees and begging her to see me. To not believe the worst of me. To not let a badly timed photo undo everything we’ve been building.
I send it.
The message goes through but there’s no reply. Then Jonno calls us to the rink, shouting something about paying us too much to stand in corridors daydreaming.
The rink is colder than usual. I’m out of breath, not from sprints but from sheer frustration. The guys sense it. No one teases me today. That’s how bad it is.
I shower in silence. I dress in silence. I check my phone in silence.
Still no reply.
I scroll the fan forums, the sports gossip accounts, and see nothing but me and Chloe. Zoomed in. Giffed. Hashtagged. The worst part? The comments. The ones that sayhe’s just like the others.The ones that sayguess the physio’s friend wasn’t enough for him.The ones that call Sophie “naïve” and me “predictable.”
They don’t know a thing about her. Or about us.
Except now, neither do I.
I don’t know if I stillhavean ‘us’.
I don’t know if I can fix this.
I think of her flat. The framed photos. The toothbrush she keeps in my place. The bag she packed to spend weekends with me. The paint samples she texted me last week. She wanted the living room to be “moody but warm,” like a hug in colour form.
We were going to move in together. I was going to build a life with her. And now I just don’t know anything anymore.
Now I’m the headline she can’t escape.
I drop onto the bench in the locker room, elbows on knees, phone in hand, and try not to lose it completely.
I sit with my head in my hands and my heart clawing at my ribs. The guys are long gone. I should’ve left too. Should’ve followed Dylan out and demanded he back me up instead of tearing me a new one like I’m some dickhead cheat.
I pull out my phone again. Still nothing from her. No dots. No read receipt. Just silence.
I call Layla.
She picks up immediately, all crisp and impatient. “Murphy. I was waiting for this.”
I don’t even waste time. “You have to get them down. The photos. The headlines. Chloe fucking set me up. It wasn’t like that.”
A pause. “I know it wasn’t.”
“Then fix it,” I snap. “Make it go away.”
She sighs as though I’ve asked her to bend time and space. “I’m your agent, not a magician.”
“Layla,”
“I’ve already contacted three of the outlets. They’re not budging. You’re public property when you’re in a tux at a sponsorship event, babe, and Chloe knows exactly how to bait the flashbulbs.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “She knew I’d be there.”
“Shemade sureyou’d be there. Then she made sure you didn’t look like you hated it. And before you ask, yes, it’s all over Twitter. Instagram. Those tabloid TikTok accounts that do dramatic voiceovers.”
