Page 173 of Over the Line

I supposed I didn’t even need to ask. He’d always gotten a thrill out of making us uncomfortable, and he loved having the byline on tabloid-worthy articles about our personal lives. He loved stirring shit up for clicks and clout, and he loved pushing the envelope because he knew he could get away with things other journalists couldn’t.

He was probably loving the aftermath of the chaos he’d created. It was exactly the kind of shitstorm he aspired to ignite. He didn’t care about the fallout. Just the sensationalism and the clicks.

I cared about the fallout, though, because there was going to be a lot of it. I could feel it to my core. One of my teammates hated me. Garrett was a mess. My public image was probably going to take a hell of a beating even though I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong.

I’d struggled to uphold my reputation as a “good” gay player all this time. I was the one journalists pointed to when people tried to claim we had no place in the League. I was well-behaved. Not promiscuous. Didn’t do things that would stain my reputation or anyone else’s.

And now…

Now this.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered to the steering wheel. Suddenly I needed to get away from this arena. It felt like a damn crime scene, and my skin was crawling beneath my suit. I needed to see Garrett again, but he didn’t think spending tonight together was a good idea. Hell, maybe the guilt was too much. Maybe he couldn’t stand the sight of me because I was a reminder of this new disaster.

The only thing I knew was that I was spending tonight like I’d spent most of my adult life—alone.

So, I backed out of the parking space and burned rubber out of the garage. There weren’t any fans waiting outside—they’d probably assumed all the Phantoms had already left—so at least there was no one to watch me drive off. I didn’t want to disappoint the kids while the adults gawked and whispered behind their hands.

I was numb all the way back to Sewickley. I followed the freeways and winding backroads on autopilot, my thoughts going in a million different directions. I felt disgusting. Violated. Heartbroken. Furious. Embarrassed. But it was all tucked beneath a thick layer of numbness. Not apathy; more like shock. Like my system hadn’t yet processed everything enough to let all those feelings crack through.

Once they did? Well, that would fucking suck, wouldn’t it?

I was just pulling into my garage when my phone jangled to life. “What fresh hell is this?” I muttered, and grabbed it out of the cup holder. I had a quick jolt of hope—and terror—that it was Garrett, but it wasn’t.

It was the team’s PR director.

Oh, this would be fun.

I accepted the call. “Hey, Travis.”

“Hey. Listen, I’m sorry to call you so late, but I need to get a handle on this situation.”

“I know. I get it.” I got out of the car, and as I shuffled into the kitchen, I asked, “So what happens now?”

Travis took a deep breath. “Well, as far as how the team will handle things between you and Kanes, I couldn’t tell you. Not at this point. But as far as the video itself—it sounds like we found the origin.”

“Oh, gee, let me guess,” I said, letting the sarcasm drip. “Jack Arlen?”

The silence on the other end was telling. Travis cleared his throat again. “After what happened with Temo…” He huffed out a heavy breath. “Anyway, he admitted it was fake.”

There was no vindication in that confirmation. I’d known it was fake, and I wasn’t at all surprised Arlen was behind it. His confession—hell, he was probably proud of it, because he was that kind of jackass.

“Did he make it?” I croaked. “Or did someone send it to him?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked anyway.

“He wouldn’t say. My gut tells me he made it, though.”

I rolled my eyes, then rubbed them with my free hand.

Travis went on, “He said he knew the two of you were together. Said he figured it out on the dads’ trip. Something about you two dipping out somewhere together.” That last part had an edge of accusation to it. An undercurrent of, “Did you really do something that stupid, you idiot?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Explains why he was suddenly so interested in my personal life after that. Fuck.”

There was a long sigh on the other end. “Yeah. Well. He had a hunch, and he’s been trying to confirm it, but then he got the video, and…” Travis swore under his breath. “I don’t know. The way he was talking about it—like the smug fucking asshole he is—he made it. I won’t go on record saying that, but it’s what I think.”

I grunted. I still couldn’t believe I’d let Arlen catch our scent. I’d been so sure no one saw us. So utterly confident we’d slipped under everyone’s radars. But Arlen had been lurking in the lobby when I’d come up from the garage. And he’d suddenly been weirdly interested in each of us—and my relationship status—after that.

All because I couldn’t wait a couple of days to be alone with Garrett. Christ, I was so stupid. I couldn’t believe I⁠—

“Saints?” Travis asked. “You still there?”