Page 66 of The Fake Out Flex

"You still have a right to privacy."

"Sure. In theory. But in reality, you and I both know that's not how it works."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I have to be. Like anything in life, it's a trade-off. I'm living my dream, playing the game I love. A lot of people would kill to be in my shoes. If it means I get noticed in public and have to limit some of the things I do, then so be it. I can throw myself a pity party and cry about it in my multimillion-dollar mansion, right?"

"You're still a person."

"I'm a hockey player first, though. Person second. At least as far as the public and media are concerned."

Evie doesn't look pleased about that.

"Look. I'm used to it. With Mom's career comeback and Clayton being on every celebrity reality TV show that will have him, I've learned how to navigate this fame thing. Somewhat. As long as I have privacy where and when it matters—at home, with my family, with my friends—that's all I care about. I can handle the rest. I knew I was taking a risk when I took you to the beach, and I'm sorry I didn't protect you better."

"What? Are you kidding me? Of course you protected me. Once you saw that people were taking our picture, you totally shielded me from them. You were like my knight in shining armor, without all the problematic baggage that example brings with it."

"Really?"

"Really. They've stopped referring to me as Breakup Sneeze Girl and started using my actual name."

"That's…good?"

"Anything is better than Breakup Sneeze Girl."

"Fair enough. But how are you handling it?"

"I'll be honest. It is a lot. I'm used to people in town recognizing me from being on TV and being Monterey-County-famous. This story is blowing up big, though, and it's a little reminiscent of the last time I blew up big."

"I'm sorry. Is it triggering?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. But the narrative is different with this story, Fraser. I'm being treated like a person."

"You'll have to explain that one to me."

"Well, thanks to the passionate hockey-loving online sleuths out there, people have discovered who my Dad is. That's earned me some street cred, and now no one would dare refer to me by my former hashtag, at least not anyone truly in the hockey fandom, for fear of peeving off the almighty Alex Freeman. And thanks to hockey4life1989, I've somehow become a good luck charm. Which I know we know is ridiculous, but people are going with it."

"They are. And it is ridiculous, but you know hockey players. We're a superstitious and odd bunch."

"Oh. Believe me, I know." She smiles briefly before continuing. "Don't get me wrong. This is still way more publicity and scrutiny than I want or am comfortable with, but at least this time, with this story, I'm not the biggest joke on the internet. And then there's the last thing."

"What's that?"

She hesitates for a moment. "My numbers have been through the roof this week."

"That's great."

"It is."

Our eyes meet.

The air between us crackles, charged with tiny little sparks of energy.

Evie looks beautiful in the glow of soft candlelight, and I take a moment to consider everything she's just said.

She seems to be managing. It is slightly out of her comfort zone, as it is mine, but I think I can lay off the non-stop worrying about her. She's doing okay.

I decide to take a chance.

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