Page 67 of Pucking Around

She looks up at us both, tears thick in her eyes. “The constant press scrutiny almost lost us Harrison.”

“Oh, shit,” Jake mutters.

I glance at him, a question in my eyes.

“Her twin brother,” he replies.

Seriously?I shake my head, taking a sip of my shitty coffee. Of course, they’re both fraternal twins. They probably bonded over it when they first met in Seattle. Maybe that’s why he and Rachel have the vibe of magnets.

“What happened?” I say.

She looks sharply at me. “The press outed him to the world.”

“Holy shit,” Jake mutters. “Babe, that’s awful.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she replies. “A few assholes at his prep school hid a camera in his room and caught him with another boy. They sold the video to the tabloids.” She pauses, her eyes locked on her coffee cup. “My parents found out he was gay when his first porn tape went viral. It went on for like two years before we won the injunction to get it all taken down.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” Jake murmurs. “What happened to Harrison?”

“The harassment was so bad at his school that he tried to kill himself. Took a medicine cabinet shelf’s worth of pills. They had to pump his stomach. He was unconscious in the hospital for days. We thought he might not make it,” she finishes, tears falling.

“Where do you fit in?” I say.

She picks up her coffee mug. “Me?”

“Yeah. Daddy Hal is the rock god with an infidelity problem. Brother is an outed gay man. What did the press do to you?”

“They hounded me worse than Harrison. Girls always get it worse,” she adds. “And I was a bit of a seeker in my youth. I was in a lot of denial about how the fame affected me. So, I acted out. I made a lot of bad choices. And the press was there for every one of them. Just google me, and you’ll see.”

“We’re not gonna google you,” I say gently.

“Rachel, we all have a past,” Jake adds. “I don’t care if you were some spoiled rock star princess getting high and screwing douchey boys in your daddy’s tour vans.”

“More like getting high, screwing boys, and wrecking a three-million-dollar yacht off the Amalfi coast. Or getting drunk and puking all over myself at the White House Easter Egg Hunt. I was eleven for that one,” she adds.

Shit.When I was eleven, I was already living to play hockey.

“I wasted three years trying to make it as a model when it made me miserable every second—starving myself, losing sleep, losing friends. That led to rebelling and getting myself engaged to a fashion photographer twenty years my senior. Daddy had to fly to Paris and physically drag me home.”

She sets her empty cup down, sliding it away. “But it all worked out in the end. He put me in rehab, and I finally snapped out of it. One of the other women was an alcoholic heart surgeon. We bonded and she told me I’d make a great doctor. I had all the drive and the smarts, I just lacked direction. So, I finished rehab and went to college. I’ve never looked back. I graduated with my degree in kinesiology, secured a great residency, won the Barkley Fellowship.

I’ve been Doctor Rachel Price for three years…and the press didn’t report onanyof it. They only ever cared about watching me fail. That’s what they want for me and from all celebrities’ kids. They want the train wreck, the drunken mess, the pill-popping anorexic model. I won’t give them what they want anymore, so they leave me alone.”

Jake and I are silent. I have no idea what to say. She’s certainly lived a different life than a pair of hockey boys.

“Do you think being with me will bring you bad press?” Jake says with a raised brow.

She shakes her head. “No, angel. I think being withmewould bringyoubad press,” she corrects. “Especially if we get caught doing what we were doing tonight,” she adds.

And fuck it if I don’t know she’s right. We were so damn reckless. We could have cost Jake everything.

But Jake is shaking his head. “No. We could make it work.”

She leans over the table on her elbows, eyes narrowed. “You think they shredded Harrison over being gay? What would they do to this?” she says, gesturing between the three of us. “You really think your NHL fans would accept you being with a rock star’s train wreck of a daughter who likes getting face-fucked by your friend while you watch? Because I’m here to tell you that they would bury you alive, Jake. The sports press is just as brutal as the celebrity press.”

“It’s not their business who I spend my free time with,” Jake growls.

“Poppy would disagree,” she counters. “Call your agent. I’m sure they would too.”As she speaks, she tugs her phone out of her pocket, tapping the screen a couple times. Then she sets it down on the table. “You’re a public figure now, Jake. If you pulled me under your spotlight, it would shine on meandmy two decades of baggage. You think it would play well for us that barely a month into my new job I’m already fucking my patientandhis equipment manager—”