Page 86 of Win Big

After the press conference on Friday, we probably won’t have to see each other again.

And that makes me really, really sad.

I can’t screw this up. There’s enough about this family in the media already, with that stupid lawsuit Mark and Matthew have filed against Dad.

I can’t let my heart get involved in this.

But I’m having so much fun.

I change into my pajamas, a pair of flowered shorts and a tank top. I never even blow-dried my hair or put on any makeup after our sexy shower. That’s also weird for me, because I don’t like people to see me when I’m not looking my best. But Wyatt looked at me no differently, touched me and kissed me and snuggled with me on the couch despite me not looking perfect.

I slide into my bed and pick up my Kindle to read a bit before going to sleep, to distract myself from thinking about Wyatt and about how dangerous it is to let go and have fun, and how I might be making another huge mistake in my life.

I don’t seeWyatt again until Friday morning at the Hockey for All press conference, although we’ve texted back and forth. He hasn’t arrived yet, and I’m hanging out at the front of the media room with Murray and Théo while reporters and photographers file in. Our team videographer is set up at the back, along with a few cameras from sports networks.

And in walks my brother Asher.

Smiling, I push away from the wall I’m leaning against and scamper toward him. “Hey, Ash!”

He holds out his arms and we hug. “Hey, Ev, long time no see. You weren’t at Mom and Dad’s for dinner on Sunday.”

“Oh. No. I was, uh . . . busy.”

His eyebrows lift and he smirks. “So I’ve been seeing. Pics of you and Bell are all over the place.”

My cheeks heat. Since he’s a sports reporter, I don’t want to tell him the truth about what Wyatt and I are doing. “I know.” I roll my eyes. “What’s new with you?”

We chat a couple of minutes until Théo takes the podium and greets everyone.

“I’m going to set up another family meeting!” I whisper to Asher. “I’ll be in touch!”

He nods, and I make my way back to the front of the room, carefully keeping to the side. Wyatt’s there now, looking handsome and relaxed in a pair of dark gray dress pants and a button-down shirt. He catches my eye and smiles. I lift a hand in a tiny wave, smiling back.

Théo talks about the mission of Hockey for All, the role of the ambassadors, and then introduces Wyatt. Wyatt steps up to the podium. “This is such an important initiative,” he begins. “And I want to thank the NHL and the NHLPA for their commitment to inclusivity in the sport of hockey, as well as the management and leadership of our team.” He nods at Théo. “It has to start at the top, and when leadership supports something, the players follow. We know that it’s up to us to create an environment in the team, in the dressing room, where anyone feels safe no matter their religion, culture, ethnic background, sexual orientation, gender identity, physical and mental ability. And not just in the sport, but also in our everyday lives, we have to be aware of it. I’m honored to be an ambassador for Hockey for All, but I’d be an ambassador for it unofficially anyway.”

They bring up Casey Gregg, who played for the US women’s national hockey team, and Brian Mankowsky, a sledge hockey player, who also say a few words. Then the media has a chance to ask questions.

Sure enough, it’s not long before that douche from theL.A. Journalasks, “Wyatt, there was a photograph of you taken at a local sex shop that appeared in a popular entertainment blog.”

The crowd snickers. I keep my face expressionless.

“The picture had people speculating about your own sexual identity, especially since you attended last year’s Pride Parade inSt. John, New Brunswick. But you’ve never given any indication that you’re a member of the LGBTQ community, so were you mocking the community?”

Wyatt’s eyes widen briefly. “Mocking it? Uh, no, man. I’m a supporter of LGBTQ rights. The reason I participated in the parade last year is because a good friend of mine who I played hockey with in Rimouski came out last year, and I went to support him. The reason we were in that store...” He refers to me but doesn’t name me, a smile flickering on his mouth. “. . . is none of your business.”

The crowd chuckles again.

“But I wasn’t making fun of anyone. Except maybe myself.”

I can tell his answer and his charming self-deprecation has won over the media people there; in fact, I get the feeling that most of them didn’t like it that Foster had asked that question.

Wyatt meets my eyes again across the room and we share a small smile. I give a tiny nod to show my approval of how he handled that.

He deals with a few more questions and then Murray ends the conference, thanking everyone for coming. People start filing out. Wyatt’s chatting with Casey, Brian, Dave, Théo, and Murray. Casey is a very pretty blonde, who’s hanging on Wyatt’s every word. Ugh.

I guess I’ve done my part by being here, but before everyone’s gone, I approach Wyatt and touch his arm.

He turns to me and his smile is... intimate. Just for me. He runs his hand down my arm, barely touching me, and brushes his fingertips over mine. “Hi.”

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