Page 92 of Face Off
By the time I head home that afternoon, the weight in my chest has lifted, just a little. I’m scheduled to watch Lila while Maya runs errands, and honestly, the thought of it makes me smile before I even reach my flat. I love that Maya and Owen have accepted me into their fold without question.
Lila barrels through the door with the kind of energy only small children possess, and soon enough we’re standing in my kitchen, flour everywhere, her hands sticky with dough. She’s wearing one of Ollie’s oversized T-shirts as an apron because I don’t own a spare small enough. She insists we decorate the biscuits with sprinkles, tongue poking out in concentration as she dumps handfuls onto each one.
“These are for Daddy Bear,” she declares proudly.
I laugh, brushing flour off my nose. “He’s going to love them.”
She looks up at me with eyes far too knowing for her age. “He’s your Ollie too now, isn’t he?”
The words stop me cold. It’s such a simple question, asked with the innocent certainty of a child, but it slices straight through me. My throat tightens, and I nod. “Yeah,” I whisper,smoothing her hair back. “He’s my Ollie, but I know he’s yours, too and I don’t mind sharing him with you.”
She grins, satisfied, and returns to drowning a poor biscuit in rainbow sugar. I smile back, but inside my stomach twists. Because if even a child can see it, if Lila can link me to him so easily, then my choices reach further than just me or even Ollie. There are ripples I can’t ignore.
That thought still weighs on me the next day when I’m back at the rink, notebook in hand. The corridors are quieter than usual, the hum of the vending machine filling the silence, when Murphy steps into my path. He’s smiling the way he always does with the team, casual and easy, but I know that grin is for me alone, and it’s laced with venom.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks lightly. “Playing journalist again? Pretending you’re not the reason Ollie’s season’s hanging by a thread?”
My fingers tighten around my notebook. “I’m documenting his rehab. That’s all.”
He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But when Coach starts thinking about contracts and liability, when he has to choose between the team and your little romance, who do you think pays the price? The injury, the distraction, the whole circus. It all points to you. And when Ollie’s out of a job, he’ll know exactly who to thank.”
The words hit like knives because they target the one fear I haven’t been able to shake, that no matter what I do, I’ll always be poison for him.
I force my voice steady. “You don’t get to put this on me. His injury was an accident and you know it.”
His smile sharpens. “Accidents don’t matter when reputations are on the line. Remember that, Chloe.”
And then he’s gone, whistling down the corridor like he didn’t just gut me. I stand frozen, notebook trembling in my grip, pulse hammering in my ears.
I’m still shaken when I cut through another hallway and hear raised voices coming from the locker room. I pause, heart stuttering, then recognise them instantly. Jacko and Murphy.
“…what the hell’s wrong with you?” Jacko’s voice is low but simmering with anger. “You’ve been needling Ollie for weeks. And for what? Because of Chloe? You two were mates, Murph. Good mates. And you’re wrecking that.”
Murphy scoffs. “He picked her. He knew exactly what she did to me and Sophie, and he picked her anyway.”
“Because he loves her,” Jacko snaps. “That’s not betrayal, that’s life. And you know damn well she’s not stirring drama anymore. She’s with him, end of story. If anyone should be angry it’s Sophie. She’s the one who got hurt the most, not you. Get a grip and move on.”
There’s a long silence before Murphy’s voice comes again, quieter but razor sharp. “You don’t get it. She tried to destroy me.”
“And she didn’t,” Jacko fires back. “Sophie believed you in the end. You didn’t lose her. You came out fine. What you’re doing now? Holding this grudge, taking it out on Ollie? That’s petty and bullying. And it’s costing all of us.”
My heart pounds as I press myself against the wall, unable to walk away. Jacko’s voice softens, but the steel remains. “Ollie doesn’t deserve to be your punching bag. And you don’t deserve to waste this much energy hating Chloe. She’s not going anywhere, Murph. She chose Ollie, he chose her. Sophie chose you. End of.”
Their footsteps shift, the conversation breaking apart. I hurry away before they can spot me, pulse racing with a mix of relief and shame. Relief because at least one person sees what’sreally happening. Shame because I know Jacko’s right. Murphy’s clinging to a ghost of who I used to be. And somehow Ollie’s the one paying for it.
By the time I reach my car that evening, the strength I’d forced all day feels paper-thin. Murphy’s accusation still rings in my ears, sharp and poisonous. When Ollie loses everything, it’ll be on me.
I grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, hot tears blurring the parking lot lights. For a long minute I let them fall, silent and burning. Because deep down, I am terrified he’s right. Terrified that no matter what I do, my shadow is enough to ruin Ollie’s career.
But then I drag the heel of my hand across my cheeks and force my breathing steady. Murphy doesn’t get to write my story. Not anymore.
I flip open my laptop right there in the driver’s seat, the glow lighting the car interior. My fingers fly over the keys. Rehab drills, the grind of recovery, the resilience it takes to keep showing up even when the odds lean the other way. The truth, not the poison Murphy wants to spread.
He can watch me crumble if he likes, but he’ll be waiting a long time.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
OLLIE
