Page 115 of The Love You Win

Oh, god. Will the horrors never cease?

“Okaaaay…”

“Apparently he also got wasted after their last game. When a fan asked about you at a bar afterward, Maddox’s teammates had to hold him back from punching the guy.”

Not good.

Nevaeh pauses. “There’s a lot of speculation about what happened. People are coming up with some wild conspiracy theories.”

Great. Do I even want to know? “Like what?”

“Like you ran away and eloped with a player on a rival team, you’re secretly pregnant, or maybe you’ve decided you like girls after Maddox left you unfulfilled. Sexually, I mean.”

I almost laugh. “Yeah, Nev. I got that.”

“But the worst ones are the theories that you got what you wanted from him, and left. Money, your fifteen minutes of fame. An in to meet someone richer.” She pauses before huffing out a breath. “Those are the theories that look like they’re sticking.”

“So everyone thinks I’m some gold-digging mercenary whore.”

There’s a long pause. “Pretty much.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, it’s not just my head that feels heavy. It’s everything. My back slides down the shower wall until I sit on the cold tile beneath the spray. Every drop that hits my back feels like dull pinpricks.

It shouldn’t hurt so much that people keep accusing me of being some shallow gold-digger. I’m not one. I know that. The people who care about me know that. What does it matter if Alex and some randos on the internet believe otherwise?

My thoughts go to Maddox. Does he think I’m a gold-digger? He couldn’t, right? I’ve never said or done anything to lead him to believe otherwise.

“Isla? Are you all right?”

No. I’m not

“I know you two were hoping to get me to leave the house today, but I think…” My throat feels raw and there’s a lump in the shape of my heart stuck inside it. I clear my throat. “I don’t think I’m up for it. Can we just stay here and watch some movies or something?”

There’s a long pause while my best friends hold a whispered conversation I don’t listen in on. That would require energy I don’t have. And the will to do anything other than simply exist.

Even that feels like a lot, right now.

“Sure, babes,” Nevaeh says. She sounds defeated.

Join the club.

“As long as you promise you’ll go to work on Monday.”

I have bills to pay. Of course, I’ll go in on Monday. What other choice do I have? “Deal.”

After crawling out of the shower, I put on some comfy clothes and drag my ass to the couch while my best friends make me tea and lunch. They’re worried I haven’t been eating. I have. I’ve eaten half a dozen donuts in the last two days alone.

I give in for the first time in days and tap the Instagram icon on my phone and navigate to the Rogues’ profile. Sure enough, comment after comment fill the screen. Some express simple curiosity, some voice ridiculous theories, and some call me all kinds of terrible names and say they’re glad it looks like I’m no longer in the picture.

When the acid in my stomach threatens to force its way up my throat, I decide to delete my profile. And then I delete the app.

I don’t want to know what people are saying about me.

It was bad enough hearing how Maddox sees me.

Maybe it’s just time to admit that I’m just not built for relationships. Love isn’t in the cards for me.

Someday, I’ll find a way to accept that.

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