Page 44

SHAWN

It’s been one of those days where nothing’s right. Practice was garbage, my pads felt like lead, and Coach chewed my ass for letting two goals slip past me. If that wasn’t enough, the whispers around campus haven’t died down. I swear people’s side-eyes are louder than their damn words. It’s hard to understand the judgment when most people on this campus are bed-hopping every weekend. They forget I know what they did this summer, winter, spring, and fall!

Is it really so shocking for one woman to have three lovers? Poly relationships aren’t unheard of. Maybe it’s the brotherly aspect that has everyone’s brains combusting.

Whatever.

I don’t give a flying fuck as long as Riley’s okay.

But what tips me over the edge is this damn Icing the Cake channel. Malik sent me a link to the latest episode, and it’s gone too far.

The anonymous hockey gossip channel has been taking shots at me and my brothers for months, and usually, I don’t give a crap about what people say about me, particularly if it’s funny. But when it’s Riley in the crosshairs, and people are throwing around derogatory words , it’s hard to let it slide.

I’m sprawled on the couch, watching the newest video, waiting for Hayes and Jacob to return with takeout. The host’s voice is pitched low and scratchy, like they’re disguising it with a filter, so it’s extra husky and sultry.

“Today on Icing the Cake , we’re tackling the real question everyone’s asking: are the Drayton brothers losing their edge? And how much of that has to do with a certain someone distracting them off the ice?”

I grit my teeth, dragging a hand through my hair. My blood pressure spikes the longer I listen to this bullshit. The host goes on to dissect our relationship, asking personal questions that are none of her fucking business. She finishes off with ‘will Riley Johnstone be the icing on the Drayton’s season, or their ultimate distraction?’

The video cuts to black, and I drop my phone into my lap like it burns. “What the actual fuck ?” I stare at the wall, wondering what kind of impact this post will have on Riley. If people start to blame her when we mess up on the ice, that could be dangerous. Then something about the video makes me pick up the phone again and rewind the episode until it’s midway through.

Something in the background caught my eye but didn’t register immediately, and I zoom in and take a closer look. The kitchen behind the host is covered by a large sheet with the Icing the Cake channel logo emblazoned across it, but it’s dropped down in one corner, and the cabinets and a coffee machine are visible. I squint, biting my bottom lip as it registers where I’ve seen these cabinets and that coffee machine before. They’re the same unusual green cabinets as in Riley’s father’s kitchen. And the coffee machine is in the same position.

What in the actual fuck?

I screenshot the images and start sending them to Jacob when the front door opens, and Riley calls out, “Anyone here?”

“Me,” I say flatly. “Come on through.”

Riley walks in like a breath of fresh air, with flushed cheeks and a pink nose, wearing an oversized sweater, leggings, boots, and legwarmers. She drops her bag on the floor and approaches me eagerly. The sight of her usually melts away all my stress, but not today.

“Hey,” she says cheerfully, bending to kiss me, but I turn my head.

“Sit,” I say curtly, pointing at the couch.

She freezes mid-step, brows pulling together. “Excuse me?”

“ Sit ,” I repeat, my tone sharp. My heart’s beating so hard it pounds in my throat, but I can’t ignore the way that voice, that filtered voice, has been clawing at the back of my brain since I started to put two and two together.

“What’s going on?” she asks warily.

I don’t answer. Instead, I pull up the latest Icing the Cake video and hit play. The distorted voice fills the room again, grating against every nerve in my body. I watch Riley’s face closely, looking for some kind of flicker.

Her expression doesn’t just flicker—it freezes . Her lips part slightly, and she sucks in a shaky breath, her cheeks losing their color.

“Riley.” My voice is low now, steady. “Say something.”

She doesn’t. Her arms wrap around her body like she’s bracing for impact.

“That’s you , isn’t it?”

“No.” The denial is soft, but her voice cracks halfway through.

I stare at her, a hollowness opening in my chest. “ You’re the one running that channel. ”

“Shawn, I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Riley,” I snap, my tone sharper than glass. “That’s your voice. The way you talk. The metaphors. The little digs you make. That’s you, isn’t it? You’ve been trashing us this whole time!”

Her face crumples, and she folds like she’s lost all her strength. “It’s not what you think.”

I laugh bitterly, standing and pacing the length of the room like I might explode if I stay still. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You called us names. Questioned our integrity and our skill. Talked about our father and our love lives. You made me sound like some brainless man-whore who can’t stop fumbling the puck.”

“It’s not what you’re making it out to be,” she says quickly, her voice cracking.

I stare at her, breathing hard. “So, what? This was a good thing, was it? You thought it would help? Help us?”

“No!” She pushes to her feet, swiping at her eyes. “It started as something stupid. Just venting, joking around. No one cared at first. It was anonymous and I had one subscriber. But then people started listening and asking questions, and it snowballed, and I... I couldn’t stop. I didn’t mean for it to get so big.”

I shake my head, taking a step back, squinting at her through new eyes, feeling like I don’t even recognize her. “You’re supposed to be on our side, Riley.”

“I am on your side!” she cries, her voice rising in desperation. “Do you think I want this? I care about you, Shawn. About all of you. I didn’t think—I didn’t know —it would go this far. If I could go back and erase it all, I would.”

I turn away, my hands shaking as I drag them through my hair. The betrayal hits me in waves, as memories of previous episodes rise to the surface, each one sharper than the last.

“You tore us down,” I say quietly. “And for what? To entertain a bunch of assholes online? To what? Make yourself feel better?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she whispers, her voice thick with tears.

“The episode you just made… you’ve exposed yourself and put yourself in danger. What were you thinking?” I ask, but I can’t look at her right now. I can’t be in this room with her, hearing her excuses when the sting of her words, her voice, still echoes in my head.

“I need some air,” I mutter, grabbing my keys off the table and heading for the door.

“Shawn, please—”

But I’m already gone.

The cold air hits me like a slap as I step outside, but it’s not enough to clear the ache in my chest or the betrayal from eating it’s way through me. My mind replays every word, every post, every dig she made.

I thought Riley was ours. Mine. The one person who got us. The one person who believed in us.

And now?

Now, I’m destroyed. She’s turned my world upside down. Everything I thought I knew, every brick we’ve stacked to build this relationship, is demolished. I don’t know what to believe.

I slam the door behind me, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Riley’s voice, that voice , is playing on a loop in my head, every sharp jab, every veiled insult, another punch to the gut.

Jacob and Hayes are getting out of the car loaded with takeout bags from the Greek place up the street.

Hayes straightens, brows drawing together. “What’s going on?”

I rub my hands down my face and stare at them, letting the silence stretch. Finally, I spit it out.

“Riley’s the creator behind Icing the Cake .”

Jacob’s arm drops immediately, his expression twisting into something between disbelief and anger. Hayes freezes mid-motion, the takeout bag held at an awkward angle.

“She’s what?” Jacob demands. “Say that again.”

“You heard me,” I grind out, the words bitter on my tongue. “Riley. She’s the one running that stupid channel. She’s the one who’s been tearing us apart online, me, you, Hayes… everyone.”

“No. No fucking way. Riley wouldn’t do that.”

“She did,” I snap back. “I confronted her. I played the video. She didn’t even deny it.”

Hayes lets out a long exhale and leans back against the car, his jaw tight. “What did she say?”

“She said she didn’t mean for it to blow up. That it started as something stupid and snowballed. You know how people eat that shit up online.” I grip the back of my neck so hard it hurts. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she did it. She’s the one who fed everyone those comments about me being a screw-up, Jacob being arrogant, you being too violent.”

Jacob glares at me like I’m the one responsible. “Why the hell would she do that?”

“It was because we hurt her.”

Jacob and I both turn to Hayes, confused.

“What?” I snap. “When?”

Hayes meets my eyes steadily, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t remember the incident she told me about before we started dating, but apparently, she overheard us saying really hurtful things.”

Jacob’s face hardens, but I frown, shaking my head. “What kind of things?”

“Personal things about her appearance and her body. It doesn’t matter,” Hayes says, his voice quieter now. “It stuck with her, and she must have used the channel to deal with some of that hurt.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I bite out.

“I know,” Hayes admits, running a hand through his hair. “And I’m not saying she’s innocent. I’m pissed too. She should’ve told us. But look at the facts, Shawn.”

“What facts?” Jacob growls.

“The channel has been quiet since we started dating her. She toned it down from the moment we started to get to know each other.” Hayes continues his tone even. “When she realized we weren’t the douchebags she thought we were, she changed.”

I let that sink in, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. He’s right. “So what?” I mutter. “That makes it better? She stopped trashing us because she felt guilty. But she wasn’t honest, and that’s what really gets me. When those photos of me leaked, she was so indignant about me coming clean with her, and this whole time, she’s been keeping this huge secret from us.”

“Riley cares about us. You know she does. She screwed up, and yeah, I’m pissed too, but she’s a good person, and I’m going to give her a chance to explain.” He looks over to the house, and his eyes widen.

I turn to find out why and discover Riley in the doorway, her hand pressed to her mouth and tears streaming down her face.

“Do you love her?” Hayes asks suddenly, his voice a whisper.

“You know I do,” I say.

“Of course,” Jacob adds.

“So we go inside, and we deal with this. She needs to come clean, and we need to move past it because that’s what people who love each other do.”

At my brother’s words, the fight drains out of me. Hayes isn’t wrong, but beneath my anger is hurt because, once again, the person I put my trust in has found a way of betraying me.

“I just don’t know if I can forgive her,” I admit, my throat closing with regret.

“You can,” Hayes says quietly. “We all can.”

Jacob’s fists clench and unclench at his sides, but the wheels turn in his head. For all his anger, he’s thinking it through. We all are.

After a long silence, Hayes rests his hand against the middle of my back. “We need to talk to her. Together. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

Jacob grunts his agreement, and I nod reluctantly, though the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.