Page 36

THIRTY-FIVE

Joey

“Oh, my God!” Kylie says, later that night. “She did not just throw her shoe at him.”

My eyes are wide, but I’m glued to the TV screen as another sparkly pump goes flying. “I thought they get in trouble if they’re violent.”

“I mean, Reddit says that’s in their contract, but I think they care more about good TV than anything else so…”

“And now I feel icky.” I wrinkle my nose and grab a handful of popcorn, shove it in my mouth to cure the guilt I’m curating for watching shows that likely take advantage of their cast members.

“In fairness to that moral code of yours I see has been piqued,” Kylie murmurs. “I think the people on this particular show also care about good TV more than anything else—well, that and getting peeps over to their OnlyFans.”

My brows flick up. “That’s an awfully cynical take.”

She sighs, shrugs. “Well, I find that I’m feeling more than a little cynical tonight.”

I snag the remote, hit pause. “Spill.”

“Ignore me,” she says. “I’m tired from moving all day?—”

“And shopping,” I add, trying to get her to smile.

It works, but it’s not a real smile.

Damn.

“And shopping,” she murmurs. Her gaze is on her glass, and I watch the liquid slosh slightly as she slowly spins the stem between thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, this is supposed to be a celebration. You and the team are leaving in a couple of days, Damon’s doing the same tomorrow, zipping around the country, doing GM things before catching up with you, and I’m”—she lifts the back of her hand to her forehead—“the poor soul who’s going to be left all alone.”

I nudge her knee with mine. “Nice try. Your social calendar is busier than my work one.”

“Nah, that’s just because you’re an introvert who likes to spend an inordinate amount of time in your bathtub?—”

I don’t mention that her brother is responsible for my growing love for bathtubs, nor the talents he displays for drawing out my pleasure while I’m soaking in them.

No need to scar her.

“—I’m going to be all alone.” A beleaguered sigh. “So very alone.”

“Is this you trying to get an invitation to our trip to New York?”

She waggles her brows. “Is there shopping in New York?”

I steal her wine glass, down the last inch of chardonnay (we’ve gone through our stock for this evening).

“Hey!”

I set it on the table then turn to face her, fixing her in place with my most intense Coach Stare—the one that never fails to get my players to spill their guts. “Tell me,” I order quietly.

“That you can have my wine?” A scowl. “Fine. You can have my wine.” A beat. “Even though it’s already in your stomach.”

“Kylie, honey, please just talk to me.”

Her eyes cut to the side, avoiding mine for a long moment.

Then she sighs and looks back at me, her blue eyes piercing into mine. “If I promise to tell you, I need you to promise me something in return.”

Heart skipping a beat, I take her hand. “I promise.”

She sighs, eyes drifting away and back again. Then she says something that has the bottom dropping out of my world.

“Hiller’s going to get away with it.”

* * *

“Please don’t leave,” Kylie says as she follows me out to the parking lot of the apartment complex.

My head is spinning.

And it’s spinning not because Hiller might get away with it, not because that’s a reality that happens far too often, and not even because the shadows of that night haven’t completely left my life.

It’s spinning because of Damon.

Because he’s known.

And he didn’t fucking tell me.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

I don’t know how to recover from the blow of it.

I can handle him being protective of me, I can even handle that straying into over protective. But hiding the truth from me, waiting until there might not be anything for me to do to stop this shit from happening, putting me off time and again when I’ve asked him what’s wrong…

God, he knows I don’t trust easily.

He knows everything about my past.

And he’s lying to me.

Gaslighting me.

What the actual fuck?

“Joey—”

I turn back to Kylie and pull her into a tight hug. I hate that she’s trembling, that she’s clearly worried she’s messed up in telling me. “It’s going to be okay,” I promise her, grasping on to my calm by the very edges of my fingertips, barely able to keep my voice steady. “I just need a little time to think about what I want to do?—”

Those eyes flare with worry. “About Damon? He didn’t mean?—”

I touch her cheek, swiping away a tear that’s slid down her face. “About Hiller, honey.”

More tears escape. “I don’t want you to have to?—”

I pull her close again. “I know. It’s a shit thing. We both know it. We’ve both lived it. But…” The truth settles deep inside me. “This isn’t just about me or you. This is about all of us. So as painful as it is for me to think of it, to talk about it, to move on from it”—I pull back, holding her by the tops of her shoulders—“we’re not in the shadows anymore. They don’t have power over us any longer. You helped me find that, remember? So don’t go and forget it now.”

Her lungs hitch. “Damon’s trying to protect you.”

My eyes close and I focus on breathing steady, on thinking beyond my frustration and hurt. Then I peel back my lids and hold her stare. “I know,” I tell her. “Please don’t worry. I understand that.”

Does it change anything? Does that make it better?

I’m not sure in this moment.

But I don’t tell Kylie that, don’t give her something else to worry about.

I just wipe her tears from her cheeks and hug her again.

Then I get in my car and drive to my office at the rink.

On the way, I call Tera—the head of legal who took over after everything went down with Hiller—at home.

It’s far too late for a pleasant chat, something I know that she knows immediately because her tone is all business when she asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hiller’s going to get off?” I ask quietly.

There’s a long blip of quiet.

Then, “Damon didn’t talk to you?”

No. Because he remembered what I said, knew I didn’t want my legacy to be that of a victim, thought he was shielding me from?—

I exhale sharply then focus. “Please just explain.”

She does—about the district attorney thinking the case won’t look good at trial, that a jury will be unlikely to issue a conviction. “He wants to offer a plea deal that means he’ll skate with just time served.”

Meaning the couple of days he spent in jail before bail was made.

My temple throbs as I absorb that blow.

Then I sigh and know I have to make a decision.

Or maybe…I made the decision the moment my car pointed me in the direction of the rink instead of home.

“It’s bullshit,” Tera says. “The same sort of misogyny that has made it so men don’t face consequences for their actions time and again.” She sighs. “And there’s nothing we can do about it—I’ve contacted past employers, pressed the D.A., hired private investigators, talked to all of our staff again?—”

“Except me.”

There’s a long blip of quiet.

“Joey?”

“You’ve talked to all of the staff except for me .”

More silence. Then, “Damon told me he spoke to all of the coaches.”

“He might have spoken to the rest of the coaching staff,” I say quietly. “But he didn’t speak to me.”

Her inhalation rattles through the speaker, and it takes everything in me to press on.

But I do.

“Because he already knew that Hiller raped me.”