Page 85 of Player Misconduct
A reporter jogs alongside Tarron as he heads across the lot toward his truck, sun bouncing off chrome and biceps. “Tarron—Alex withSeattle Sunrise.How’s practice going? Two years out of the league, do you feel ready to play again? Think you’ll do it here in Seattle?”
Tarron smiles for the camera like he’s done it since birth. “Just taking it one day at a time. Blessed to be here. My body feels good.”
“And do you want to clear up the rumors about your personal life? Fans are buzzing about the pregnancy rumors–”
“I’m going to stop you there,” Tarron says and I blow out a breath of relief. He’s about to defend me, I know it. “Just for the record, what me and my wife do or don’t do is nobody’s business but ours okay.”
My relief snaps in half. “Goddamn you, Tarron,” I mutter under my breath.
Penelope hears it and groans. “Oh, just wait,” she says. “Keep listening. I’ve never heard someone shove both feet into their mouth quite like this genius.”
The problem is… Tarron is a genius. He knows how to put on a show. How to act like the well-intentioned jock who’s just bad at interviews, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. Unfortunately, that smart, think-fast side of his is always what drew me in. He’s not dumb… not even a little.
The reporter blinks. “Yourwife? You mean Kendall Hensen… the team doctor for the Hawkeyes? Sources tell us that you two are still divorced. Do you have a comment about that?”
Tarron chuckles, the kind of practiced laugh that’s meant to sound humble but lands smug. “You know how people love to talk. Paperwork is paperwork, right? Sometimes life’s more complicated than whatever a headline says. I’ll just say this—Kendall’s always going to be part of my story. We’ve been through things that don’t disappear because of a signature.”
He shrugs, a picture of charm and regret. “I’ve got a lot of respect for her. She’s doing amazing things in Seattle. I wish her nothing but happiness, and healthy, happy days ahead.” He flashes a grin, nods to the camera, and walks away like he’s justdelivered a public-service announcement instead of setting fire to my life.
Penelope lets out a sharp breath. “Jesus Christ.”
“He didn’t deny it,” I whisper, throat tight.
“He didn’t have to,” she snaps. “He just turned it into a half-truth and let every gossip site fill in the blanks. He basically confirmed you’re still involved and that the baby might be his. And he did it with that fake-boy-scout smirk.”
Tarron to a tee. But I still know the side before fame. I wish that man still existed.
My phone vibrates again—alerts, screenshots, captions multiplying like weeds.
Theo peeks his head through the doorway, pale. “Uh, Kendall… the video’s already on SportsCenter.”
“Of course it is,” Penelope mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable. That man couldn’t keep his mouth shut if you paid him to.”
I sink into my chair, staring at the still image of Tarron’s easy grin frozen on the screen.
Aleksi’s name flashes across the top of my phone. A text bubble.
Aleksi:I just saw the clip. Tell me he didn’t call you his wife.
Aleksi:I thought you said he wouldn't say anything else and that he already got what he wanted.
I don’t know what to say, but I have to say something.
Me:I’m going to fix this.
“Aleksi just texted me. He’s not happy. What do I do?” I ask Penelope who’s still on the line.
“Okay. Damage control mode. We kill the story, we starve the oxygen. I still have a friend or two at Seattle Sunrise… I’ll see if I can convince them to take the story down. Meanwhile, you are going to text that idiot ex-husband of yours and tell him to shut up before we super glue it shut with a restraining order.”
And just like that, the sweetness of the last few weeks evaporates. The real world, the one full of consequences, contracts, and vultures, crashes back in. It figures that my little perfect bubble with Aleksi wouldn’t last.
“Okay, I’ll text Tarron. Let me know how the call with Seattle Sunrise goes.”
We hang up and then I pull up Tarron’s name.
I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge of my office, sit on the edge of my desk, and open a chat.
Me:What the hell was that interview with the Seattle Sunrise about. We had an agreement, Tarron.
