Page 198 of By His Play

As much as I love him and am proud of the life he’s created for himself, I don’t want to be in the limelight. Something I really should have thought more about before telling Grams what I did.

I hover hesitantly over the symbol that will take me to his tagged posts. I already know the content that has been posted about me over the past few weeks, and it’s not good.

Liar.

Game player.

Betrayer.

Deceiver.

Unloyal.

Snake.

I’ve read it all. Every single toxic thing that journalists and the public combined said about me after the team’s publicist “accidentally” allowed part of the truth about our engagement to be released.

Kieran assured me it was an accident. That an intern sold what she thought would make the best story.

It’s plausible, sure. Kat, the team’s publicist, has never done something so underhanded before. She usually has the players and the team’s backs.

I hope it’s the truth. But really, it doesn’t matter. The story came out, and I very quickly became enemy number one amongst Kieran Callahan fans.

Not a place I ever thought I’d find myself. And certainly not a place I’d wish to be.

Reading it all again is the last thing I want to do, but I can’t stop myself.

Some of the posts have new comments, and each one cuts through my heart like a knife.

All of their words are lies. I never set out to play or hurt Kieran. I never wanted anything from him. Even the comments explaining how I was clearly hoping that by creating a fake engagement he’d realize he was madly in love with me and go through with it are a million years from the truth.

Kieran isn’t in love with me. I don’t have any wild fantasies of us running into the sunset together and living happily ever after.

I’m not aware that my cheeks are wet from crying until my buzzer rings through the apartment, dragging my attention from my cell.

A familiar mixture of grief, anger, disbelief, and frustration courses through my veins.

Swiping at my cheeks with the backs of my hands, I drop my cell to the couch and pad toward the front door to find out who it is.

My first thought is Brax. He’s been such a good friend this week. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d have survived without him.

He’s given me an outlet to talk. A safe space to just be me. It’s not quite like being with Kieran, but right now, it’s the closest I’m going to get.

Sucking in a deep breath in the hope I can hide my distress, I press the button and say hello.

“Hi, Effie. It’s Tate and Lori. Sorry to drop in unannounced, but are you free for a couple of guests?”

I glance down at myself and cringe.

Tatum and Lorelei are two of the city’s most beautiful women. I highly doubt they’re currently dressed in leggings, which may or may not have a hole at the crotch, and an old college sweater that has seen better days.

“O-oh, hey,” I say, unable to ignore them. “I’m not really dressed for visitors.” I cringe at myself.

“We’re not here for your outfit, Effie. We’re here for you.”

My heart slams against my ribs. Their words are a welcome reminder that while I might feel lonely, I’m not actually alone.

Feeling awful that I haven’t reached out to them, I press the button that will allow them entry to my building and the top floor.

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