Page 65 of Puck Love

I stumble back across the threshold. My limbs are shaking, and not just from the cold. Oh my god. I can’t stay here. I don’t know how they found out, but I can’t stay here now. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the mess, and then I race up the stairs and throw on someclothes.

“Stella,” Van yells. The front door slams and his footfalls thunder up the steps toward me. “Stella!”

“I can’t believe you didthat.”

“What? Punch a guy out for being anasshole?”

“Do you know what kind of ramifications this is going tohave?”

“Yeah. Hockey player, here,remember?”

“It’sdifferent.”

“How is itdifferent?”

“Because I’m not a hockey player. I don’t go around punching paparazzo in the face.” My anger boils over, and I suddenly want to hit him. Instead, I hit him where I think it will hurt. “It’s different because I’m not like you. I don’t sleeparound.”

“No, you just tell the whole world you’re a virgin when you’re fucking me like a pro,” he seethes. “At least I’m damn honest. What else are you lying about,Stella?”

“Fuckyou!”

“Already did, baby, but any time you wanna be a dirty girl again, you just call me up,okay?”

“Oh my god, you know none of this would have happened if it weren’tfor—”

“For what? Me? You think I sold youout?”

“I didn’t sayyou.”

“Then who? Eli? My mom?” It dawns on him then. I see it in the way his eyes narrow. Van shakes his head. “No. That’s not it. You think Emmett told thepress.”

I don’t want to believe it because I love Emmett, and I highly doubt he went to the tabloids, but maybe he told someone at work, or at his social group. “How else would anyone link the two ofus?”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s far too big a leap to make. What could country’s good girl possibly want with a piece of shit likeme?”

“Van, you’re not helpinghere.”

“Oh, I’m not helping? See, here I thought I’d helped you quite a lot these past few weeks, but my mistake. I didn’t realize you didn’t need me after all—just myhouse.”

“I can’t stay herenow.”

“Could you before? Come on, Stella. Are we really going to pretend this isn’t just some midlife crisis for you, and that you’re not going to go running back to your people and forget all about that Canadian guy you screwedover?”

“Screwed over?” I shake my head. I haven’t the first clue what he means by that.How exactly have I screwed him? “If anyone is screwed here, it’s me, and I don’t have people, Van. Don’t you get it? I’m it. I don’t have family or friends. All I have is a stadium full of people who think they know me. You get to walk away clean from all of this.” I lower my voice in a poor imitation of a man’s. “Van Ross is such a stud. He boned a virgin.” Hot tears spring up in my eyes. “Meanwhile, my career will be in tatters the second those pictures hit theinternet.”

“Why? Because the world might learn that you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be? Fuck what everyone says.” Van scrubs his hand through his beard, raking at the coarse hair as if he’d like to rip it out in frustration. “If you let go of what everyone thinks, of what everyone wants you to be, and just be you, just for a second, you might realize no one gives a shit if you give it up to an NHL player or a goddamn asshole roadie. It’s none of their businessanyway.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You have a penis—technically, that’s a free pass to do anything you want. It’s different for women.” I bury my face in my hands. “The press is going to have a field day with this. My name will be dragged through the mud, but that doesn’t matter to you because your career isn’t over, justmine.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you listening to yourself? Stop trying to be so fucking perfect and just be real with yourself, with me. So the whole world is going to know you’re no longer a virgin. Who gives a fuckingshit?”

“Ido!”

“Why? You think anybody cares if you have sex or not? Tomorrow, some other starlet will be making headlines and this story will be lining for kitty-litter boxes all over the country.” He rakes a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “And you’re not alone. I don’t wanna hear you say that shit again. You haveme.”

“No, I don’t,” I say, blinking back tears. I don’t have him. I don’t have anyone. For all I know he sold me out to the press, or his family did. “I have a shit-ton of regret, and that’s all Ihave.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Right, well I’m sorry your stay here at Lodge Ross wasn’t a better one. I thought we were connecting. Turns out I was just fodder for another countrysong.”