Page 36 of Bleacher Report
“Bethany being in Seattle is temporary. She’ll find someone else to manipulate and control. She bores easily…her best trait in my current situation. What I care about right now is being ambushed by Peyton.”
“You weren’t ambushed,” Slade counters. “You were triggered. There’s a difference.”
My jaw clenches. “Same result.”
“Nope. One makes her the villain. The other means you need to figure out your shit and apologize. And hell,” he huffs, his voice strained from running and talking, “even if it were her fault, you’d still have to apologize. Might as well just get it over with.”
We jog a few more strides before I respond. “She caught me off guard.”
“She gave you a chance to respond. You got defensive. Then you stormed out like a pissed-off frat boy who just got benched.”
“I was pissed,” I snap. “You didn’t hear her tone. It was like she was baiting me.”
“I don’t have to hear it to know how you would have reacted to it. I’ve seen you in post-games, remember? Bethany is underyour skin, and you and Peyton barely know each other. She has no idea what Bethany did—what she cost you,” he says calmly. “I’ve seen you pissed before. I bet you scared the hell out of her storming out like that.”
That stops my thoughts. Just for a second.
Did I scare her?
That wasn’t my intention.
I’d never hurt her, no matter what she said to me. But I keep running. “She’ll be fine.”
Slade’s voice softens. “She might be. But will you?”
I don’t answer.
“She’s not Bethany,” he continues. “She’s not trying to screw you. She’s trying to do her job while holding together a deal that means something to both of you. You blew that interview wide open. And based on the deal you made with her? She didn’t deserve that.”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I say, breathing hard. “Having people dig through your past like it’s public property.”
“Of course I do,” he says, flashing me a glare. “Did you forget that I was slated for a first-round pick out of college, and Penelope’s dad banished me to the farm team for five years to punish me for ruining Penelope’s figure skating career? The media was all over me, asking why the hell I didn’t enter the draft. The speculations were wild for years. Some of the headlines they came up with were nuts.”
I glance at him.
“Shit…I guess I forgot about that.”
We slow down at a crosswalk as Slade reaches for thewalkbutton and presses it, then faces me, his hand on his hips, both of us catching our breath. “You’re afraid to trust her. I get it. You’ve been burned before. But if you keep treating her like she’s the enemy, this whole thing’s going to go up in flames.”
“She told me she wouldn’t blindside me.”
“Reed,” he stops running, blocking my path. “You asked her to outbid your ex-girlfriend, and then let you move in with her. You owe it to her to help her get this syndication deal. She can’t do that by painting you as some sanitized version of yourself. People want the truth. Even the ugly parts. Especially the ugly parts. If you’re smart, and you work together, maybe you can both get something you want out of this.”
“Maybe,” I say, my voice low.
“It’s worth a shot. Otherwise, you’re the one not holding up your end of the deal, and that’s not like you. I’ve never seen you back out of an agreement,” thewalksign illuminates, and we start running again. “By the way, Luka says you cheated on your bet at the charity auction for the highest bid. He wants a rematch next year.”
I laugh, not sure if I’m willing to put myself in that spot again if Bethany is still on the loose.
“You're going to fix it with her, right?” he asks after a beat.
“I don’t know how.”
“Start with showing up. A little effort. You don’t have to spill your guts. Just…meet her halfway.”
We slow as we near the parking lot. “Do something that says I’m sorry in your language. I don’t know—pick up dinner. Show her that you care, even if you’re too dumb to say it.”
I snort. “You calling me dumb?”
