Page 26 of Fall Wherever They May

I chuckle and shake my head. “In the past month, when have you ever asked me for permission to go down on the ice?”

“Never.” He laughs. “But there was always an adult there. Cal’s not here today, and Ivan is in the weight room. He said he wasn’t skating today, but he didn’t care if Elija did as long as you said that I could too. He doesn’t want him on the ice by himself in case he gets hurt. So, if I can’t skate, neither can he. Please, Mom, can we?”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Cool! Thanks, Mom!” He says, as they turn around and run out of my office excitedly.

An hour later, I’ve narrowed down the candidates for the GM position from five to three. Hannah was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. Just when I reach for my cell to call her, she comes barreling into my office with disheveled hair and breathing hard. She bends over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

She wheezes and holds up one finger. “Give me a second.” Once she’s composed, she throws her cell on my desk—screen up—and says, “Have you seen this yet?”

My eyes widen in disbelief at the grainy picture of Cal leaning over me with his hand on my cheek. The headline makes my blood turn to ice.How the fuck did they get this?

THINGS HEAT UP

WITH THE NEW YORK BLAZE’S CENTER AND HIS NEW BOSS

Everyone knows the broody hockey player from the New York Blaze, Callan Miles, but who’s the girl? Pictured above with Callan Miles is none other than the twenty-seven-year-old heiress and new team owner, Aspen Ryan Taylor. The couple was spotted Friday outside a bookstore in an embrace with Miss Taylor’s ten-year-old son. Since then, there have been rumors of their relationship. However, nothing was confirmed until a cozy secret moment was caught on camera late Sunday night. Miss Taylor is the illegitimate daughter of New York Blaze’s late owner, Mr. Ryan Allan West . . .

I scroll down, skimming the trashy tabloid. My eyes land on words like: “teen mom,” “fraternization,”and finally,“unqualified.”They made me look like the team whore, brought up my teen pregnancy, and said that I was unqualified to run this organization. Disgusted and feeling sick, I hand the cell back to Hannah. My entire body feels like it’s on fire as my blood pressure spikes, and tears burn the back of my eyes.

“It’s a media circus outside. That’s what took me so long. Teagan said Cal has already called her and is on his way down here. She wants us in the conference room as soon as he arrives.”

I’m so embarrassed. I can’t bear to look at Hanna. God, what she must think of me. “Excuse me, please.”

Storming out of my office, I burst into the ladies room. This was bound to happen, right? I knew eventually someone would look me up, air out my dirty laundry, make me feel inferior, and make up lies. I grip the sink and stare into the mirror. Come on, Aspen, get your shit together. Grabbing a handful of tissues, I wipe under my eyes—careful not to smear my mascara. Finally, I collect myself before trekking down to the weight room.

“Hey, Ivan?”

He pushes up from his squat and carefully sets the bar back in the rack. “Yeah, boss?”

“I have an important meeting. Is there any way you can keep an eye on Tucker and make sure he stays down here? I don’t want him near the conference room right now.”

He picks up a towel from a weight bench and wipes his sweaty face. “I got you. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

It isn’t long until we’re all seated in the conference room. Teagan walks in and studies us carefully.

“Explain.”

We go into detail about our fight in the bookstore, the paparazzi, and Sunday evening.

“This is a PR nightmare. You’re being honest when you say nothing is going on between you two? Because that,” she points to her blank cell phone screen. “Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Nothing is going on between us,” we say in unison.

“Well, we can play this a couple of different ways,” Teagan says. “You can say nothing at all and let the media frenzy die down. But I must warn you, that will leave you vulnerable to being further scrutinized. Another option would be to roll with it. Pretend to be dating. Make the media believe that you’re in a committed relationship.”

I nibble on my bottom lip and contemplate the best course of action. “I’ll go with the first option.” There is no way I’m faking a relationship with this guy. We’ve just come to a point where we can co-exist.

“Is there an option between the two?” Cal interjects. I squint my eyes at him, trying to figure out where he is going with this.

He rubs his hands down his face and releases an exaggerated sigh. “Faking a relationship isn’t something eitherone of us wants to do, and staying silent isn’t a good idea either. Maybe there’s a way the media will back off and Tucker won’t be so affected. You don’t need any more scrutiny, Aspen. It’s hard enough for you to focus on learning your role while having intrusions.”

Putting out fires is Teagan’s job; she must have another option.

“Whatever you want to do is up to you, and I will respect your decision. Can I just say one thing?”

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