Page 110 of What If I Hate You
“Hell,” Bodhi chuckles, “Teddy Bear probably loves you even more now that he knows his asshole doesn’t have to pucker every time you’re at the mic.”
“Fuck you, Roche.” Bear laughs and leans down from behind the couch and kisses the top of my head. “He’s joking.”
“Uh huh.” Bodhi lifts one of the new blue throw pillows from the couch. “Says the guy who literally has butthole pillows scattered over his couch. Nice by the way. You’re right. They look like soft fabric covered assholes.”
Bear acknowledges Bodhi’s comment with a bow of his head. “Thank you for complimenting my domesticated prowess.”
Layken plops down beside me, lifting a cupcake out of the box and tearing off the wrapper. “Honestly, babe, you deserve better than those corporate clowns anyway. They were sucking the joy out of you one asshat at a time.”
She’s not wrong.
“It’s not the subject that was sucking out my soul though. It was the people. Why can’t they just let us do our jobs and do them well? I love hockey. I’ve loved it ever since I was a little girl. This is my dream job and I walked away because…” I stop myselfbefore I blurt ‘Because of Barrett’ because that’s not the whole truth at all.
“Because why?” Oliver asks. “I mean we heard you quit and that you had an argument with your boss, but that’s pretty much all we know. Not that you have to tell us.”
“Yes you do,” Marlee says, winking at me. “Tell them what happened.”
“My boss, Simon, gave me an ultimatum. Either I end things with Barrett and get a demotion, which would mean not being in the press room anymore and instead I’d be writing fluff pieces on what kind of community work some of you do outside the arena. Or I continue to be in a relationship with Bear but immediately transferred out of state to a different team.”
“What?” Griffin’s brows furrow in disgust. “That’s fucked up. You’re the only one in that room who very clearly gives a damn.”
“Yeah it is fucked up,” I agree with a nod. “So, I told him to go fuck himself and I quit because I’ll be damned if he’s going to make me smaller just because I’m in love with Barrett.”
Glances pass around the room at my confession, understanding smiles partnering with them.
From across the room, Barrett leans against the wall, his arms folded, his eyes locked on me in that way that makes my chest ache and my cheeks heat.
“You deserve to be with people who know and respect your worth better than those dumbass suits ever did,” Griffin says.
Ledger gestures around the room. “And we’re those people. So, whatever you need—contacts, references, a hit squad?—”
“Ledger,” Marlee warns.
He shrugs playfully. “What? I’m just saying, options.”
I laugh, which feels weird after the day I’ve had. “You guys are ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously loyal,” Griffin corrects. “You’re one of us now, Blakely. No takebacks.”
“Exactly,” Layken agrees. “And if you want my professional opinion, you should fucking torch them all.”
“Torch them?” I ask, half-laughing, half-confused.
“Not literally,” she says with a shrug. “But write about it. Tell the world what that network does to women in the workplace. The crappy pay gaps, the condescending colleagues, the manipulative boss. The fact that you had to fight twice as hard for half the credit.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the room. Even the guys look fired up. Barrett gives a nod of approval and then pushes off the wall and comes over, resting a hand on the back of the couch behind me.
“You’d be doing more than defending yourself,” he says quietly, but I can feel the conviction in every word. “You’d be defending the next Blakely Rivers who walks through their doors.”
Something shifts in my chest.
Because these people aren’t just humoring me.
They’re here, cramped into Barrett’s living room, eating cupcakes and making battle plans, because they believe in me.
I glance around at the faces illuminated by the soft glow of Barrett’s new lamps, the warmth of their encouragement wrapping around me like a safety blanket. Each one of them is so invested in my happiness, in my career, and in a world that could easily chew me up and spit me out. It stuns me to realize I no longer feel like an outsider. Not here. Not with them.
Barrett’s presence is both reassuring and electrifying. I hate how my thoughts drift to how close he is, how the simple gesture of his hand on my neck sends little shivers down my spine.
