Page 142 of Play the Game

I feel an insane amount of dread at the thought.

“In that case, bye.”

Chastity laughs again and pushes lightly on my shoulder. “What do you need, babe? I know you’re not actually thinking of coming back to work here.” She glances at my finger, and my stomach falls.

“Your phone,” I say. “For five minutes, max.”

“You’ve got it.” She rushes over on bare feet and pulls out her phone.

“I’ll be right back.”

Before I leave her, she grabs onto my hand. “Hey, I’m serious. Are you okay?”

No.

I’ve never been thisnot okayin my life, and that’s truly saying something, considering.

“I’m fine.” The lie rolls right off my tongue.

My heart beats harder with each step I take to the back room.

When I shut the door and log in to Emory’s social media, I clear my head and get to work.

Betty snores.Loudly.

With her deep snoring and Shutter chasing cockroaches all night long, I haven’t slept in days.

Without a phone, I haven’t checked the internet. I have no idea how long it took for Emory to see what I posted or if it went viral like everything else relating to us.

I’ve been living the last several days on autopilot. When I showed up at Betty’s, it was because I had nowhere else to go. I snuck through without Gerald seeing me, and since then, he hasn’t noticed the girl and her cat living in his crabby ol’ tenant’s apartment—not even when I tag along to work with Betty to help her clean houses.

All I can seem to think of while wiping windows and mopping floors is Emory. But each time he pops into my head, I run from him, only to think of my brother a moment later. I wonder if he's called me or left any messages.

Everything feels messy and chaotic—even as I lie on the scratchy couch and watch Shutter play peek-a-boo with a bug.

Betty snores again, and it doesn’t even faze me as I reach for the remote. A tinge of fear rolls around my head when the TV comes to life. I’m half-afraid to see my face on the screen as breaking news, but my life doesn’t mean much to the real world.

It only means something to Russ, for the popularity it’s bringing to his strip club, and the hockey gurus. Emory’s parents’ faces flash in my head, and I quickly shut them out too.

I shut everything out until I’m left with nothing.

I’m numb.

It’s a skill I learned very early on in my life.

If something hurts you, stay away from it.

And thinking of the last few months, and what could have been, is a knife in my back.

My finger presses on the remote over and over again as I lie mindlessly on the couch, too afraid to let myself think.

I don’t know which way is up or down.

I’m not sure what the future brings or how I’m going to pay those legal fees I promised William I’d take care of.

There’s some money in my account from what Emory pays me monthly and from taking the photos for Serena Sinclair, but until she outsources them to magazines, it’s all I have. Considering the hockey wives now know I’m a fraud, I can probably toss them off my clientele list.

I laugh sarcastically.

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