Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

carter

I clear my throat and it echoes throughout the room. It takes everything in me not to wince at the irritating sound. I’m here to put on a show, and I have to look as apologetic as I’m supposed to feel.

Let’s get this over with, shall we?

“I’m deeply apologetic for what happened on Saturday night,” I say into the microphone.

I feel the heat crawling up my neck. This is mortifying.

I still don’t regret hitting that idiot, so I hope this sounds more sincere than it is.

“I should have taken the high road, and I should not have resorted to violence to solve a dispute. It was an immature decision, and I’m incredibly sorry to my Coach, my teammates, and to the city of Pittsburgh. ”

Thank you, Amanda in PR.

Declan nods, but his head is hanging low.

He suddenly finds the base of his microphone extremely interesting.

I know what he’s doing. He’s making sure they’re watching me.

He’s making sure his facial expressions don’t get ridiculed or picked apart.

He’s trying his hardest not to make me laugh with one misplaced second of eye contact.

Because that’s what happens with us, like two naughty boys who hang out in the back of math class.

I also think this makes him want to die a bit, too. He knows I don’t mean a fucking word of this.

“Uh,” I say, pulling at the neck of my dress shirt. I peer around the room, seeing all the bloodthirsty faces staring up at me. They expect this behaviour from me. They love when I do this shit. They adore the stories about The Beast being untameable. It makes their job fun.

But it’s what Coach said I need to change. If I want to keep playing, my image needs a heavy rebrand, and I need to stop giving these hungry reporters any negative ammo.

I have to stay on this team.

All eyes are on me, and I’m not seeing anyone nodding along or looking sympathetic.

That’s a clear sign that my apology isn’t hitting its mark.

Am I tanking this? Does anyone in this room believe I’m sorry?

Do they think I deserve to be here, pleading for my spot on the ice?

Their words and their articles are going to have an impact on the public. They have to buy what I’m selling.

I don’t know why I do it.

I don’t know when the idea enters my mind, and I don’t know why I don’t take a second to think about it. It’s a fucking stupid idea. Reckless, even. An easily provable lie, but it will appease the salivating lion’s den that waits in front of me with their cameras and microphones pointed in my face.

It might even get Coach off my back, too.

I still did what I did, but this might be the first step in saving my reputation and my ass if I play it right.

It’s definitely not what Amanda told me to do, but I don’t think her tactics are working as well as they were supposed to.

My sad excuse of an apology has not swayed the hungry crowd thus far, and my reputation tour kicks off in this room.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” I say, sighing. I lean back in my seat, rubbing at the back of my neck. “What happened that night happened because that man assaulted my girlfriend.”

Lowesy goes rigid—like, his back goes completely stiff.

I stare straight ahead, but even from the corner of my eye, I can tell that his brow is furrowed forward. His eyes skirt sideways toward me, head still aimed at the table, full-blown confusion written all over his face.

Play it off, you fucking idiot.

A murmur goes through the room. Oh, they hadn’t realized that Carter Forkerro had a girlfriend? Great. Neither did Carter Forkerro.

“I didn’t react well, but he had already been giving her a hard time throughout the night.

It started with a spilled drink and it ended with non-consensual physical touching.

My restraint snapped and I hit him. It was not my finest moment, I get that, but I won’t stand for a man assaulting any woman, especially mine. ”

Declan is back to staring at the microphone stand. His brow is still knotted forward, trying to look impassive but failing.

A dweeb in the front row raises his hand.

Normally, I like the media. I find this part of the job pretty fun.

I know how to put on the charm, how to get the laughs.

I’m good at keeping them on my side. But this guy right here, the one with the hair slicked down by a pound of gel, he is a different story.

He makes press time torturous. He’s always asking inappropriate shit with a snivelly little look on his face.

“Hi, Carter,” Greg says with a tight smile. I dip my chin. “What does your ‘girlfriend’ have to say about how you behaved? Does she support what you did, or does she support the boy who is pressing charges?”

I stare at him, grinding my molars. First of all, he wasn’t a boy.

He was at least twenty-five years old. Greg used that word for a reason.

That was fully intentional. He wants to garner sympathy for an asshole.

He also used air quotes when he said ‘girlfriend,’ which means snooty little Gregory isn’t buying my act.

So, now I want to bury him, but unfortunately, it means I have to be extra nice.

“I mean, yeah,” I say, nodding as if I’m considering his question and not punching his head off, “she would prefer I didn’t hit that man, but at the same time, I don’t think she or anybody in this room would support someone who assaults another person.

There were better ways to handle it, but I think the main takeaway is that there shouldn’t have been an assault at all. ”

If he never touched her, I wouldn’t have touched him. Simple.

Greg’s face goes a little red, but he doesn’t look quite finished.

A few reporters, a majority of them women, are nodding their heads and jotting things down in their notes.

He takes a cursory look around the room and realizes he’s lost the ability to paint this any differently.

He relents and relaxes back in his seat.

It’s not a total lie. Suit Guy did assault a woman, and he did deserve what he got for it.

That woman was just not my girlfriend. That fact shouldn’t matter, but I think people will warm up to this whole situation easier if they think I was protecting someone I’m in a relationship with, rather than a girl I was definitely trying to hook up with.

Amanda swoops in before I can say anything further and put my foot in my mouth .

“That’s enough for the evening. Thank you for your time. Coach Davison will be up shortly.”

I stand, thankful for her wondrous timing.

I suck in a breath, rubbing my hands on my thighs as I get to my feet.

It’s then that I risk a glance beside me, where Lowesy is now standing, too.

He is staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

I might have.

The second we’re out of earshot of the reporters, back in the familiar halls of our arena, he whirls on me. Doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. I think he’s waiting for me to explain, but he’s cut off by Coach, who is storming toward us, a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand.

He points it at me. “I’m never going to reward you for beating the shit out of a member of the public.”

Wisely, Lowesy keeps his mouth shut and buries his hands in his pockets.

“But if that was my daughter, I’d be glad she had you,” he continues.

He’s still walking, heading for the media room that we just left.

Thankfully, that means we don’t need to have an extended conversation about this big, ridiculous lie I just dropped.

“Bring her by, yeah? You don’t have to hide your girlfriend from me or your team, Forker. Proud that you’re growing up.”

I force a tight smile and nod, a bit too stiffly. “Thanks, Coach.”

He storms into the media room and out of sight. At least those few sentences from his mouth proved I did the right thing, no matter how morally skewed. I earned Coach’s respect back a bit with my little white lie.

A win is a win.

Declan and I carry on toward the locker room to gather our stuff, but it’s quiet between us.

I stare straight ahead. I make no jokes.

The only thing I can think about is how I’m going to navigate this if the public starts attempting to put the pieces together.

If they start trying to put a face to the woman I just claimed to be willing to go to jail for, I might be screwed.

When we reach the locker room, Declan finally glances at me.

“Girlfriend?”

“Took you five whole minutes to remember that word?” I ask, pushing into the room.

“No,” Declan admits, “but I thought it might mean something else in a foreign language since you do not, and I mean absolutely do not, have a girlfriend.”

“How are you so sure?”

I tear my coat off the hanger, not willing to look at him. Lowesy is my best friend. He reads me easily. I don’t know why I’m lying to him, trying to keep this ruse going, but I need two seconds to sort out what the hell I just did before I settle on what I will or won’t be telling anyone.

If I can trick him, I’m positive the rest of the world will be easy.

“Because you took that girl home two weekends ago. The black haired girl with the red lips.”

Alright. We aren’t tricking Lowesy.

Nina. Hot as hell . She had the whole Megan Fox thing going on. All sharp edges and hard eyes. Looked like she would eat me alive. I wanted to see if she would, so I brought her home. Nope. Melted the second I touched her. I might have been the one to eat her alive in the end.

“So,” Dec continues, because he’s now a dog with a bone, “unless you met this girl five minutes ago and it was love at first sight, you’re single as shit and you do not have a girlfriend to throw punches over. Or, you’ve finally got hit one time too many and you’ve been imagining her.”

I shoot him a cold look.

He flashes that cocky grin, dimples and all. Then his face goes dead serious.

“Is she in here right now?” he whispers, pivoting to face the spot beside me. He waves to the air. “Beside you? Hi, Forker’s girlfriend. How are you?”

I resist the urge to laugh, but my lips pull upward anyway.

“Just shut up about it, alright?” I beg, tugging my hat over my head. “Stays between us. I threw that out there as a holy grail, hoping I’d get a little heat off me. I’m not losing my job over some stupid little shit.”

Declan stares at me. “Maybe you should just… I don’t know, stop punching people?”

If only.

He’s right, of course, but that change is just not in my nature.

I’ve been swinging before thinking since I was a kid.

I had no brothers to take out my pent-up aggression on, so it was kids on the playground.

Little boys who pushed Ari, kids who would make fun of us when they saw my mom’s obviously fake lips, anyone who got in my way. That’s why my parents put me in hockey.

I thought it would tame with age, but it didn’t. Maybe if I’d dropped the hockey stick, it would have, but this sport breeds aggression, and I am paid handsomely for being the way I am.

“But then I wouldn’t be the sweet little boy that you fell in love with,” I counter, sticking out my bottom lip.

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. As he puts on his coat, heaving his bag onto his shoulder, I wonder if the other guys would have my back as easily as Declan does. He asked what I was doing, I offered up my horrendous idea, and he accepted it. It was that simple. That’s brotherhood .

Boston would never say a word to anyone, I’m sure of it. He’s a vault, that one.

Would Saltzy have my back and support the lie I just told? If it blew over quickly, I think he would. Anything to make the team look good.

Lark? Reno? Oscar?

I’m not so sure. Lark and Reno are young and stupid.

They might get drunk and start yapping at the bar.

Find it funny and run their mouths to their friends.

Tell girls they want to hook up with that I’m also single, so that their friends will gravitate toward me.

Word would get around quickly that not only is Carter Forkerro a madman, but he’s also a dirty little liar. Or a cheater. That might be worse.

I don’t plan on pretending to be a loyal, doting lover boy for long, but I have to stick it out for a bit to make sure my name vanishes from the headlines and doesn’t start popping up in more.

Cheating on my ‘girlfriend’? This ‘girlfriend’ not existing? Headline material.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Dec says, slapping me on my shoulder.

“I’m not worried about a thing.”

Totally am.

“My lips are sealed. Just tell me how you’re going to play this. If you want to come over for dinner and have a double date with me, Lucky, and the air—I’ll support you and cook up an empty plate for an empty chair.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the laugh that tears through me.

We walk out of the locker room, through the players’ exit, and into the parking lot.

There’s instant flashing, and I grumble to myself, keeping my eyes down.

The wolves are closer than usual. They shouldn’t be. They aren’t allowed back here .

But they got a story, so they’re taking risks to get their pictures after what happened this weekend and what I just announced in the press room. They’re probably hoping to see a lady on my arm. Unfortunately, all they’re getting is their golden boy with his golden eyes by my side.

“Don’t start talking to your empty passenger’s seat,” Declan mumbles out of the side of his mouth. “They’ll figure it out.”

I grin, shoving his shoulder lightly. Asshole.

He barks out a laugh, dipping his chin once before heading toward his Range Rover while I walk to my pride and joy—my G-Wagon.

I still don’t look up. I don’t wave, like I usually do.

Neither of us goes and talks to the fans, either, which strikes me with a stab of guilt.

Some people can only be here once, and I’m denying them their once-in-a-lifetime moment with their favourite players.

That was shit I used to dream about as a kid.

Imagine twelve-year-old me standing outside of this arena, a Saltzman jersey in my hands, and he just…drives past me in his expensive car? I would have cried for months.

But I can’t. Not tonight. I don’t want questions, accusations, or pictures that people will dissect. I have an assault charge hanging over my head. Suit Guy isn’t going to go willingly, and yeah, he has the grounds to kick up as much shit as he wants.

I almost can’t blame him. I rocked his shit. It’s not like he’s lying.

I’ll pay all the fines. I’ll take all the charges. Just, for the love of god, don’t take the game away from me.