Page 61 of Mistletoe Face Off

My jaw drops. “He changed his name?”

“His parents got divorced so he took his mom’s name. Used to be Harrison Soutar. You should look him up. I don't know who told him to change his name, but it was a smart move. Nowadays he’s a hot shot in the NHL and no one knows that he once was an illegal drug user in another sport.”

My mind races like a go cart down a hill. Harrison’s a cheat? Worse, a cheat who used performance enhancing drugs to get ahead in his sport?

“Thank you. I'll do that,” I say as I tap the name “Soutar” into my phone.

“It's all there. Videos of him performing, and what happened when the scandal broke.”

“What made you come to me about this now?”

He shrugs. “These NHL players get too big for their boots, getting the fame, earning the big bucks, and having all those women just throwing themselves at them simply because of what they do. Guys like Harrison Clarke need to be taken down a peg or two.”

If I haven't thought it before, I do now. Don is a super nice guy.

“I'll have a look into it, but with all due respect, I can't report on something that's not coming from the actual source. I'm sure you understand.”

My hope is that this is all some made-up story that Don in his bitterness has decided to share. Maybe he wanted to be a hockeyplayer himself but couldn't grow over six foot. I throw my eyes over him. Or five foot five.

“It's the God's honest truth,” he assures me. “My friend swears by it.”

“On that. If what you're saying is true, it's a big story. I’ll need a name.”

Part of me hopes he won't give me what I'm asking for and this story can die here in this Irish pub at the sanitized table. The other part of me, the journalist who can see that this has the potential to be a big story, the kind of story that can get me that promotion and more? That side of me wants it.

Even if I fear what it would mean for Harry and me.

He seems to think about it for a moment, taking another sip of his drink. As he places the glass back on the table, the ice clinking, he says, “The coach’s name was Garth Gluckman, But you didn't hear it from me.”

I tap his name into my phone. Noticing the time, I tell Don I need to get going.

“Thank you for this,” I say, not sure if I mean it.

“I look forward to seeing how Clarke reacts,” he sneers, and once again I thinkwhat a nice guyas I rush out of the pub, my mind whirring, desperate for air.

The thoughtful, funny, kind man I know could never do something like this. I know it, just as I know myself.

But then my fears begin to rear their heads, whispering that I should never trust a man, that he will always deceive me. That Harry’s just like my ex, and that it’s only a matter of time before he brings my world crashing down around my ears.

Chapter Fourteen

Holly

A few minutes and an ice cold blast of winter wind later and I'm sitting in my car, my engine on so I can heat the inside. With trembling fingers, I tap Garth Gluckman’s name into my browser, and begin to scan the results. They’re all about his work as a figure skating coach in Portland.

My belly twists uncomfortably.

I scroll down further and spot the name “Harrison Soutar,” accompanied by a fresh-faced boy who could only be about sixteen, but a boy who looks so much like the teenage boy I once knew. My breath hitches in my throat as I begin to quickly scan the accompanying article.

Words leap out at me. Words I don’t want to read.

Scandal.

Performance enhancing drug.

Disqualification.

My heart thuds in my chest.

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