Page 122 of Puck Struck
"I've been better but making progress." I press my other hand to the mattress, struggling to pull myself up. Logan props up the pillows behind me and helps me settle back against them. "I'm guessing this isn't a social visit."
"We need to discuss the situation," Eli says, pulling out a chair and sitting down with a notebook in his lap. "The media attention, the questions about your background, the stabbing…it's all spiraling. We need to get ahead of this before it gets worse."
"Worse how?"
Rex clears his throat. "Three more news outlets picked upthe character story overnight. They're digging deeper, asking questions about your background, trying to create controversy where there shouldn't be any."
"What kind of questions?"
"Whether there are any undisclosed issues that might affect your standing with the team," Bob says, his expression stoic. "Cam, I need you to understand that this isn't about hockey ability. This is about media perception and sponsor concerns. Some people are trying to create a scandal."
I look at Logan, then back at Bob. The moment of truth. The choice between protecting my secret and protecting my career.
"Yes," I say quietly. "There are things."
The bleeping monitors echo in the tense silence.
"What kind of things?" Eli asks, pen poised over the notebook.
I swallow hard, wringing the bedsheet in my fingers. "When I was about nineteen and in the juniors, I was poor. Really poor. It’s how I grew up. Hockey equipment, training, ice time…it all cost money I didn't have. So I..." I swallow hard. "I worked as an escort. Back in New York. To pay for everything I needed to make it to the draft."
The color drips from Rex’s face. Eli scribbles notes frantically. Bob just stares at me, his icy blue eyes chilling my bones.
"For how long?" Bob asks.
"About a year and a half. I went by my real name back then and tried to keep that part of my life separate from hockey. But some of my clients kept records. Photos. Videos." The words taste like shit on my tongue. "That's what William Keating used to blackmail me. And James Harmon was one of those clients. He became obsessed with me, wouldn't let it go. I’d gotten a restraining order years ago to keep him away from me. But he found me anyway, even under the name Cam Foster."
"Jesus Christ," Eli mutters.
"The question now," Rex says, "is how do we handle this? Because if we don't control the narrative, someone else will. And that will be dangerous for you, Cam."
"What are you suggesting?" Logan asks, his voice tight.
"We get ahead of it," Eli says. "Press conference. Full disclosure. Frame it as an overcoming adversity story before anyone can position it as a scandal."
"A press conference?" My stomach lurches. "You want me to tell the world that I used to..."
"You want to tell the world that you survived," Bob interjects. "That you did what you had to do to chase your dream. That some sick bastards tried to use your past against you and you refused to be intimidated."
I stare at him. "Wait, so…you're not cutting me from the team?"
"For what? Being poor? Being desperate enough to work for your dream?" Bob shakes his head. "Cam, what you did has nothing to do with hockey. It doesn't affect your ability to play or your character as a teammate. I'm not punishing a player for surviving difficult circumstances."
My body goes limp with the surge of relief channeling through me. "So the press conference..."
"We’ll hold it on the day of your release from the hospital. I’ll set it up once you know when that is," Eli says. "We'll prep you and craft the message. The key is owning your story before someone else tries to twist it."
"And if people still have a problem with it?"
"Then that's their problem, not yours," Bob says firmly. "You're a hockey player, and a damn talented one. That's what matters to this organization."
After they leave, I lean back against the mattress, exhausted. “Jesus, I’m really doing this. I can’t believe it’sstaring me in the face after I’ve tried so hard to keep it all buried.”
"You okay with the plan?" Logan asks.
"Hell no," I say. "I’m fucking terrified. But I'm also tired of hiding. Tired of being afraid that someone's going to expose me. If I tell my own story, on my own terms..."
"Then no one can use it against you anymore. You hold the power then."
