Page 63 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

Without telling her, I was going to spend as long as it took to make it up to her. That’s why I took her to the spa. It was the first act of many to show her how much she meant to me and how sorry I was.

But she’s seen that picture and believed it. Maybe it took her right back to that football game over ten years ago. Who knows? But she was sold, just like Thomas before I convinced him that it couldn’t be true. If my own brother was going to believe that trash, how could I possibly expect Emma to be any different?

The Audi screams up the driveway at speeds far too dangerous for the short distance, and I pull to a screeching halt outside the front door.

“Mr. Steele,” Beatrice gasps as I barge through the door. “What has happened?”

“Not now, Beatrice,” I bark. “I’m sorry.”

I storm past the astonished housekeeper and head straight into the living room. Pacing back and forth, I have all this pent-up energy that I don’t know what to do with. How am I going to make this right? How am I going to convince Emma that this is trash if she won’t even let me talk to her?

That thought stills me, and I pull my phone from my back pocket.

“Phil,” I gasp into the phone. “I need your help.”

“I was just going to call you,” he says, sounding more than a little ruffled. “What the heck, Ryan? What’s going on? My phone hasn’t stopped ringing all morning.”

“It’s not real,” I blurt. “The picture is fake. It never happened.”

“You mean, you weren’t with her in that bar?”

“No! Do you think I’m an idiot? Why would I be with her? More to the point, don’t you think I might have mentioned that I let her get a picture of us in the bar, knowing what kind of person she is?”

Phil falls silent, and I can nearly hear the thoughts in his head.

“You need to call the paper,” I bark, now feeling angry that whoever printed that nonsense didn’t do a proper job of checking their facts. Like they even care. It’s news, right?

“It’s Photoshopped, Phil. They need to make a public apology.”

“Right. Right,” Phil says, clearly still in some kind of thought process. “What about Emma?”

“Emma’s gone off the reservation. She won’t even speak to me,” I spit. “She thinks it really happened.”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. I’m going to get on this.”

I nearly laugh into the phone, but not because what he said is funny. Panic is gone. I’m well past the panicking stage. Now, I’m beside myself. If I can’t convince Emma that this isn’t real, it’s over. Everything we’ve built over the last couple of months will come crashing down around our ears, and any chance for us will disintegrate.

“They need to be sued, Phil,” I bark.

“Calm down, man. Let me handle it. Okay?”

“Sure.”

I end the call and continue pacing, my heart thumping with anger, worry, and fear. What could have been might have ended before it’s even started, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“What’s happening?” Thomas says as he walks into the room. “What did Emma say?”

I look at him, feeling like my world is falling apart. “Nothing,” I sigh. “I went to see her, but she wouldn’t speak to me. She pushed me out of the clinic. She actually yelled at me.”

Thomas looks at me for a long minute but doesn’t speak.

“What am I going to do?”

My brother takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “Was that Phil on the phone?”

I nod. “He’s going to contact the paper. But it might be too little, too late.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m going to go out of my mind.”

And then I bolt across the room and head for the door.

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