Page 123 of Puck Struck
"Exactly." I look at him. "Will you be there? At the press conference?"
He grins. "Try and stop me. Remember what I said, we handle it all together. It’s only us from now on."
A couple of days later, Logan and one of my nurses, Holly, help me dress for the press conference. Trying to maneuver myself into a dress shirt and suit isn’t easy and it takes a damn village.
Once I’ve signed the discharge papers, I take a minute to myself and straighten my tie in the bathroom mirror. With a deep breath, I walk out of the small space and look at Logan.
“You’ve got this,” he says. “And you look sexy as fuck. It’s going to be hard for anyone to pay attention to what you’re saying.”
A small smile lifts my lips. “Thanks. I guess it’s time to go, huh?”
Logan nods. “Yeah. You ready?”
“As I’ll never be.”
A few minutes later, he pulls his truck around the front of the hospital where an orderly leads me to the curb in a wheelchair. We drive to the facility in silence, but the noise between my ears is deafening. Memories of a couple of days earlier clawat my brain and I press my fingertips to my temples to block them out. Looking back can’t help me.
I need to focus on the future, on what will happen after I leave the facility today.
Logan squeezes my hand and my lips tug upward.
We’re going to have an amazing future.
Once we’re inside, Rex pulls me into a conference room where I spend an hour with him and Eli, going over key talking points and preparing for likely questions. My stomach churns with every scenario we discuss, but Logan sits next to me, his presence steady and reassuring.
"Remember," Eli says, "you're not apologizing for surviving. You're explaining that you did what you had to do, and you're proud of how far you've come."
"And if someone tries to make it sound shameful?" I run my finger along the wood grain of the tabletop.
"You redirect," Rex says. "You talk about determination, about refusing to let circumstances define you. You own your story."
I blow out a shaky breath. "You know, I keep thinking about that scared eighteen-year-old," I say quietly, staring at the table. "The one who thought he had no other choice. Part of me wants to protect him, keep his secrets."
"And the other part?" Logan asks.
I slowly raise my eyes. "The other part knows that keeping secrets gave people like William Keating and James power over me. If I tell the truth, on my terms, they can't hurt me anymore."
"Exactly." Logan's voice is firm. "You're not that scared kid anymore, Cam. You're a professional athlete who survived and thrived despite everything thrown at you."
I take a deep breath then knock on the table. "Okay. Let's do this."
The press room is packed. Cameras, reporters, team staff, my teammates. Tate gives me a thumbs up from the back as we file into the room. Carter nods at me. Jaren and Colby are there. Ryan Keating sits with them, his face still bruised from the fight with James, but his presence here means everything.
Logan sits in the front row, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Thank you all for coming." I speak into the microphone in front of me, my voice steadier than I expected. "I want to address the recent events and set the record straight about my background."
I take a breath, hold Logan’s gaze for a long second, and start my story.
"When I was eighteen years old, I had a choice. Give up on my dream of playing professional hockey, or find a way to pay for the training and equipment I needed to make it to the draft." I pause, looking directly into the cameras. "I chose my dream."
I fold my hands in front of me, my eyes sweeping over the ones staring back at me. Some are critical, some judgmental, some accusatory. But I don’t let any of them stop me from telling my story. I’ve been so afraid of what people might think for way too long. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Every decision I made led me here, to this very moment, and that’s what I need to embrace. Because one way or another, my path ends with the man sitting across from me with pride in his eyes and love in his heart.
"For about a year and a half, I worked in New York to fund my hockey career. I went with a different name and changed it to Cam Foster later. I'm not proud of the choices I made, but I'm not ashamed of them either. I did what I had to do to survive and pursue my goal."
A reporter raises her hand. "Are you saying you worked as a prostitute?"
"I'm saying I was a young man with limited options and I was determined not to let poverty end my dreams. Some people might judge those choices. That's their right. But I won't apologize for doing whatever it took to get here."
