She looks away, and my stomach twists with nausea. I fill my glass with water and take a long drink to soothe the ache.
“It’s…” she pulls in a deep breath and opens her laptop. “I have a conference call scheduled with Selena and Sam this evening after rehearsal.” She flips the screen around, and my heart stops.
“BACK IN ACTION?” reads the headline on a major gossip page.
“Injured goalie Oliver Levesque’s knee looked just fine as he made the rounds with pop sensation Genevieve Fox and socialite Regina Jeffries at The Six Stone Lounge. Sources say, while he started the evening with Ms. Jeffries, it was Ms. Fox who got cozy and took him home. Not bad for a hockey player who isn’t even on the ice. Does this mean Genevieve finally found a replacement for ex-fiancé Darryn Shields? Or has Levesque found a new game to play while stuck on injured reserve? You can bet we’ll be keeping a close eye on this shocking pairing.”
I stare at the photos for a long time. Grainy shots of Oliver and me rewrite our amazing night together with a bitter filter. We look so happy, so connected and free. It feels sinister now that they’ve stripped us down to blurb fodder. Sprinkled among our photos are images of Oliver and another woman. Whoever this Regina Jeffries is, I presume. She’s pressed against him, her lips at his ear while he appears to be concentrating on what she’s saying. He’s not smiling in any of the photos with her. Maybe one, but it’s hard to tell in the dim lighting. I’ll ask him about her, but I’ve had my words and actions twisted enough to know things are rarely what they seem.
“That’s the kindest of the articles,” Hadley says quietly.
“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. It’s my first time being linked to anyone since Darryn. What are they saying?”
When she hesitates again, I give her a sharp look. “It’s better if you just tell me, Had. I need to be prepared when I see it for myself. It’s not like I haven’t gotten this stuff before.”
She clears her throat and pulls the laptop back to her. “I know. It’s just… it’s mostly aimed at Oliver not you. Is he used to this?”
Aimed at Oliver? My stomach drops. Why would they target him? I’m the bigger name, the bigger story. Wait, that’s exactly why it’s aimed at him. Imake him the better story. I’ve publicly turned a saint into a sinner.
Hadley presents the screen again, and I drag in a heavy breath.
“PLAYER A PLAYER?”
“Must be nice to have time to play the field while your team gets clobbered on the ice. Although supposedly injured, hockey phenom Oliver Levesque was spotted ditching his team in favor of popstar Genevieve Fox at The Six Stone Lounge Thursday night. Interesting how a torn knee keeps him off the ice, but not off the dancefloor. Hard to blame him. We’d fake an injury for the chance to cuddle up with Genevieve Fox as well. Watch out, Gen. You might be the next to be played by this professional player.”
“Fake an injury?” I cry, slamming my fist on the island. “Does no one fact check anything anymore? And we weren’t dancing! We were just hugging each other.”
Hadley nods, her eyes narrowing in anger. “It’s total bull-crap. Another one said he dumped Regina for you, even though she’s pregnant with his baby, but most are along the lines of how irresponsible he is to be out partying when he’s supposedly injured and his team is struggling. Some are saying he must be faking the extent of the injury.”
Faking? Gosh, he’d do anything to be back on the ice.
“Oh please. He was sitting at a table drinking seltzer water the whole time. Besides, that’s not even how sports injuries work. And he was literally there with his teammates. They’re the ones who talked him into going.” I’d laugh if my stomach wasn’t so sick. The problem is, even the major news outlets have picked up the story of us together. There will be no hiding from this one. “Regina Jeffries? Do we even know who that is?”
Hadley shrugs. “Some heiress, I guess. Never heard of her before this.”
“I need to talk to Oliver.” I grab my phone from the island.
“Uh-oh. Your parents aren’t listening, Gen. They’re still coming. You want me to call security? Just make sure you’re ready for that bombshell if you officially block them.”
I release a long sigh and shake my head. “No. I’m going to have to face them eventually. Might as well be now.” I’m more concerned about Oliver anyway. Pulling up his number, I tap my fingers on the counter impatiently when the call goes straight to voicemail. Crap. I leave a message, and then send a corresponding text to call me as soon as possible.
Shoving my phone down in disgust, I rest my elbows on the counter and bury my head in my hands. This is my fault. I warned him about the ugly, knowing full-well he wouldn’t run. I knew he’d take the pain. I’ve watched him battle through it since the first time I saw him, and I hoped he would handle mine. He’s a warrior, and I’m his cancer. A curse. I’m a caricature of a life I can’t live, a persona I can’t satisfy. The world wants the girl teetering on the edge of the summit, the girl who’s so far up she can only look down. Forget happiness and fulfillment. My identity has been formed by fear. Every choice, every move, every waking moment an exhausting effort to secure my footing on the slippery edge of a cloud, staring south at the distant ground. My entire existence is devoted to not falling.
Except, then came Oliver and the girl in the mirror he dragged to the light. Is she afraid of the fall? She’s a spark who thrives in the shadows. She can go into
