Page 75 of Something to Prove

“Me.”

“Youandme.”

Okay, I was a few steps behind here.

I sat on the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward, my elbows propped on my knees. “There’s more. What is it?”

He bit his bottom lip. “I’m not good publicity for you. Not now.”

That was eerily similar to what Toby had just said.

I bristled stubbornly. “Why not?”

“I don’t have a pretty story. It’s why I ask other people for theirs. My parents had a toxic relationship that reads like a reality TV drama. I don’t know all the details. My aunt and uncle can ask for privacy, and maybe they’ll get it, but I won’t. No one gives privacy to someone with a million followers who makesmoney by smiling in front of a camera. I’m right and you know it. You have to”—he circled his hands wildly as if grasping for the right word—“disassociate.”

“Disassociate.”

“Yes. You’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t know Ketchum Clomsky. You play hockey, Ty. That’s what you do. That’s your story. You’re going to the AHL and maybe someday, the NHL.”

I felt like I’d been smacked upside the head with a two by four. Dingy and out of breath. “But?—”

“I’m sorry. I thought we’d have till summer. Maybe longer. I thought—it doesn’t matter.” More tears spilled…and spilled. “This is your chance. This is your shot. You can’t get caught up in this mess with me.”

“How am I supposed to…disassociate?”

“We’ll be friends. Wearefriends.”

His defeated tone indicated that it was the last thing he wanted, and I clung to it.

“You don’t want that,” I said.

“Of course I do. And that’s all we can be.”

“No, we can be more,” I insisted irritably. “Even if it’s just…”

“A secret?”

The lump in my throat hurt like a motherfucker. “Look, I’m tired and you’re upset. Let’s go to sleep and?—”

“No, Ty. You have to go.”

You know that feeling when you’ve had a long, stressful day—it’s been up and down, and you’ve jumped every hurdle only to find that the last one left was perched on the edge of a cliff? That was me.

I was sitting on a coffee table, free-falling, and everything hurt. My ribs, my head…and now my fucking heart was cracking in my chest.

“You want me to leave?” I whispered in a shaky voice.

“Yes.” He didn’t.

And I didn’t want to go, but the sobering truth was that I had nothing better to offer than my body…in private.

That couldn’t be it. There had to be another way.

Don’t ask. I had no clue. I was one person. A hockey player.

Hockey was all I knew, all I’d ever cared about.

Until now.