Page 41

41

Piper

Two days later I’m still replaying Emma’s words in my head like a broken record: I don’t even know who you are. And every time it loops, it hits harder—like a punch to the gut I walked right into.

I’m slumped at my kitchen table, hollowed out by guilt and too many tears. The curtains are drawn, the room dim and quiet, like even the sun knows not to bother me right now. Maddie steps in, kicks her shoes off, and drops her purse with that no-nonsense energy that usually means I’m about to be bossed into self-care.

“Did you eat?” she asks gently, setting a takeout bag on the table.

I give her a tired shake of my head. “Not hungry.” Even chewing feels like too much right now.

She plops down across from me and digs out a burger and a carton of fries. “Greasy food: the universal heartbreak bandage. At least smell it before you waste away.”

The scent wafts up, and my stomach gives a traitorous little growl. I grab a fry and nibble, mostly out of spite. “Apparently, my body still wants to live, even if the rest of me is voting for blanket-fort hermit life.”

Maddie smirks, then softens. “You want to talk about it?”

I stare at the fry in my hand like it holds the answer. “She hates me,” I whisper. “Emma trusted me. And I wrecked it. I don’t know how to come back from that.”

“She’s hurting,” Maddie says, rubbing my arm. “Emma’s like a lion with her people. Fierce love, fierce anger. Right now, you’re just on the wrong end of that.”

I nod slowly. “It felt like I gutted her.” My voice cracks again. “And the worst part? She’s not wrong to be furious.”

The room goes quiet. I stare at the burger but don’t touch it. My mind’s still racing, but this time, it’s not spiraling—it's shifting.

“I can’t keep hiding,” I murmur. “I built this fake persona to survive in a cutthroat industry. But it’s hurting people now. Good people. I saw what it did to Emma, to Sadie. Jake’s next.”

Maddie frowns. “You think someone’s coming for him?”

“Not yet. But someone could . Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week—but eventually. And when that happens, I don’t want it to be because I stayed quiet. I need to own what I did before someone else twists it.”

She leans back, thoughtful. “So… you’re outing yourself? For real?”

I meet her eyes. “Yeah. I’m done lying. I’m done letting other people weaponize my silence. I’ve been so scared of losing everything—my blog, my sponsors, my identity. But maybe I deserve to lose those things if they were built on pretending.”

Maddie swallows. “You’ll get shredded.”

I nod. “I probably deserve that, too.”

She folds her arms. “You know you don’t owe the internet a damn thing, right?”

I offer a sad smile. “I know. But I owe him . And I owe myself the chance to start over the right way.”

Maddie studies me, eyes brimming with sympathy. “He might still be furious, you know. Or never forgive you.”

My chest tightens. “I’m prepared for that. Or at least, I’m trying to be.”

She nods slowly, exhaling. “Okay. Then I’m behind you, no matter what. Let’s figure out how to do this.”

We move to my living room, clearing space on the coffee table for my laptop. The battered laptop that holds all my secrets. I open it with trembling fingers, heart pounding. This is the moment. Once I post my confession, there’s no going back. The last vestige of Penelope Darling’s anonymity will be shattered. Sponsors will probably bail. Jake will see it. Emma might see it. The entire Ice family might see it, too. But at least it’s honest.

The screen glows with my blog’s dashboard. The familiar pen name leaps out at me: Penelope Darling. A persona I’ve hidden behind for ages, a shield that let me pick at lives from a safe distance.

Maddie hovers behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m right here,” she reminds me softly.

I start typing, tears making the words blur:

“To Everyone Who’s Ever Read Penelope Darling: I’m not who you think I am. My name is Piper. For years, I wrote under this pseudonym, building an audience by poking at controversies—some deserved, many not. I told stories about local figures, painted them with broad strokes, and fed the rumor mill to keep my sponsorship dollars rolling in.

But I hurt people. Not just any people—my friends, the man I…”

I pause, swallowing. The man I love? My hands shake. I backspace, rewriting:

“…the man I deeply care about. I ran smear pieces. I twisted truths. I did it because I was desperate—for money, for clicks, for attention. And now I can’t live with that guilt.

I want to publicly apologize.

To every athlete I’ve trashed, every player I reduced to a headline or a punchline—I'm sorry. I justified it as “entertainment” or “critique,” but the truth? It was cheap, easy clicks. And people got hurt. That’s on me.

But there’s one apology I need to make louder than the rest.

Jake Ice.

Yeah, the same guy I once called a “cocky jock with no moral compass.” That was cruel, baseless, and wildly wrong. The truth? Jake is the kind of man who drops everything for his family, who parents with heart and humor, who literally saved me from being trampled by a runaway cow. He’s a better person than I ever gave him credit for—even when I was standing right in front of him.

I used his name for drama. He gave me nothing but honesty. And for that, I owe him more than words. But I’m starting here.

My entire persona—Penelope Darling—was built on snark and scandal. It’s time to retire her. I’m stepping back from this blog indefinitely. If you followed me for drama, I’m sorry to disappoint. But this is the right thing to do. I…”

I pause to swipe tears off my cheeks. A dull ache presses behind my eyes. Maddie gently rubs my back. “You’re doing good,” she whispers. “Just say what’s in your heart.”

I resume typing:

“…I can’t guarantee I’ll repair the harm done, but I want to start by owning every lie I told. Every rumor I spread. Jake didn’t steal custody of his daughter. He didn’t manipulate anyone—those were rumors I either fueled or allowed. In truth, he’s been a rock for his family and for me when I needed it most.

I used his trust for clicks, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry to anyone who read my posts and believed them wholeheartedly. I’m sorry to the Ice family for violating their privacy. I’m sorry to the sponsors who demanded bigger stories—I can’t provide them.

I take full responsibility. If you followed me because you liked the edgy style, well… that’s not me anymore. It never really was. I hope you can forgive me, but if you can’t, I understand.

Most of all, I’m sorry to Jake.”

I stare at the last line, tears slipping down my cheeks. Does he even want my apology? Probably not. But if anything, he deserves to know I regret every second I spent lying to him.

Maddie squeezes my shoulder. “Is that it?”

I exhale shakily. “Maybe one more line.” I type, swallowing the lump in my throat:

“I know words alone can’t fix this, but I had to speak up before someone else used these secrets to hurt him. I’m done letting fear rule me. To everyone reading: Thank you for listening—and for letting me finally tell the truth.”

I hover the cursor over the “Publish” button, my heart thrashing against my ribs like it wants to break free. Sweat beads on my temple, and my stomach churns like I might be sick. This is it— the end of everything I built as Penelope Darling.

Maddie’s voice breaks through the tension. “You sure, Pipe? We can save it as a draft, or—”

“No,” I say, clearing my throat. “No more delays.” I look at her with watery eyes. “I have to do this. I owe him, more than I can ever repay.”

She nods, stepping back. “Okay.” Quietly, she says, “I’m proud of you, even if it’s painful.”

“It is.” My hand trembles as I grip the trackpad. Another wave of panic surges, but I grit my teeth. This is the right thing. So I click.

One second, two seconds. The screen refreshes. My confession is live.

My breath stutters out in a shaky rush. “It’s done,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks unrestrained now. “God. It’s done.”

Maddie sits beside me on the couch, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, and I let my head fall onto her. My entire body trembles with a mixture of relief, terror, and heartbreak. “I’m sorry, Jake,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

The words echo in my head long after I close the laptop, a silent mantra of regret. Because no matter what happens next—trolls, sponsor fallout, social media wars—I can’t take any of it back. I can only hope that by laying it all bare, I’ve taken the first step toward redemption. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help keep Marnie from using my secrets to hurt him further.

As I slump against Maddie, eyes drifting shut, I’m not sure if I feel lighter or heavier.

But I did it.

I told the world the truth.

Now, all I can do is wait for the storm that’s bound to follow and pray that somewhere on the other side of the wreckage, there’s a chance at forgiveness for me—and for us.