Page 105 of What If I Hate You
He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. I was hoping this would be an easy?—”
“I quit,” I tell him, tossing my press badge onto his desk. “Effectively immediately.”
Simon’s head snaps up, his jaw unhinged. “Now wait just a minute, Rivers. Let’s not get too?—”
“I have busted my ass for this network for years and you fucking know it.” My voice cuts like glass as I lean across his desk. “I’ve earned respect with every story I’ve chased, every late night, every morning flight. But apparently, all of that disappears the second I’m seen with someone who plays the game I’ve built my career covering.”
“Blakely—”
“And don’t feed me the ‘optics’ line,” I spit. “We both know what this is. If I had a damn dick in my pants like the rest of you,we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d call it an inside scoop. You’d slap me on the back and tell me to keep my ear to the ground. But because I’m a woman, suddenly my integrity’s in question? My knowledge of hockey’s in question?” I shake my head with conviction. “Well, fuck that. And fuck you.”
His mouth opens, but I steamroll right over him.
“I’m not letting this job—or you—turn me into someone who apologizes for existing in a male-dominated field. I deserve better than this boys’ club bullshit, and I’m going to get it somewhere else. Somewhere I’m not measured against the size of my skirt or who I’m dating, but the quality of the work I turn in.”
I straighten, pulse hammering, and head for the door. “Enjoy the press room and your shit ratings, Simon. I hope it’s everything you want without me.”
The door slams behind me, and I don’t slow down until I’m out of the building, my boxed belongings in hand and breathing fire. Knowing I need to work out my rage I call the one person I know can help me with no judgement.
“Hey Blake! What’s up, girl?” Marlee’s voice on the other end of the line is like a soothing balm on my damaged soul. She was there for me through college and has seen me through life’s ups and downs. If there’s anyone who can get me what I need right now, it’s her.
“Hey, I know it’s early. Are you, by chance, at the arena yet?”
“Actually yeah. What do you need?”
“Can you get me on the ice right now before anyone else comes in? I need to skate.”
Without even having to ask what’s wrong because she can hear it in my tone that I am not okay, she simply says, “I’ll meet you at the door.”
“Thanks, Mar. I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BARRETT
The sound of my phone ringing jolts me out of my daze as Killer sits on my lap purring. I almost spill my coffee as I reach for the phone, assuming it’s Blakely telling me how her meeting with Simon went this morning. My heart skips at the sight of Marlee’s name flashing on the screen, but I swipe my thumb and answer her call.
“Hey Marlee. What’s?—”
“What did you do to her, Bear?” There’s a sense of urgency to her tone that sends adrenaline pumping through my veins without the need to finish my coffee.
“What? Who? What’s going on?”
“Come on Bear, you know who. What did you do to Blakely?”
“Marlee I didn’t do anything to her.” My chest clenches. “Why are you asking me this?”
Instinct has me standing and pushing my feet into my tennis shoes while Marlee explains. “Because she’s here. At the arena. And she’s…” Marlee sighs. “She’s not in a good headspace at all but she wouldn’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Fuck.”
Simon.
It has to be about her boss.
“I think I know. I’m on my way, Mar. Give me ten minutes.” I hang up, my thoughts racing. Less than ten minutes later, I push through the players’ entrance and the sound hits me first. Sharp, angry cracks echoing through the empty rink. I walk out into the arena and stop dead.
Blakely is on the ice, hair half-falling out of a messy bun, cheeks flushed, absolutely murdering pucks with a stick that’s clearly not hers. Each slap sends the puck screaming into the net like it personally insulted her mother.
