27. Ellie

Ellie

I blew my nose into Frank's hankie, still crying. Since my pregnancy, I couldn't seem to keep my emotions under control. Or maybe Frank's kind eyes, his genuine caring, allowed me to lower my inhibitions, so to speak, and cry over our coffee.

"Look at the headlines," I sobbed, tapping that morning's edition on the table. "Accusing Grey of being a pedophile. They believed Colton without giving Grey a chance to defend himself."

Frank nodded. "That's the way the world of news turns."

"It's not fair." I blew my nose again.

"How'd you get home and away from the reporters?"

I wiped my wet face and started to offer him his hankie back. Realizing I'd filled it with snot and tears, I hastily took it back. "We waited until they got cold enough to disperse," I replied, my voice hoarse from weeping. "The wind picked up and none of them wanted to camp on his lawn."

"Bunch of weenies."

I smiled weakly at Frank's attempt at humor. "Right."

"Did Colton give them your address?"

"We don't think so," I said slowly, clutching my coffee mug. "Grey took me home, and no one was waiting to interview me."

I recalled the terrible expression Grey wore after the shock of finding reporters on his doorstep, not asking about the playoff win or the Stanley Cup. It scared me.

But asking about how and why he stole his son's "fiancée".

"Grey… he's furious," I went on. "He's ready to do who knows what to Colton. The shit squealed to every news station in this city. It's gone beyond that now. Cable news shows are talking about it."

Frank nodded behind his lifted cup. "I saw the talking heads on CNN chatting about you and Grey."

"It's no one's fucking business," I yelled, then instantly regretted my explosion.

Heads within the café swung toward us. I shifted my gaze and lowered my face. "What he did, it's unforgiveable, Frank. He hinted to them that I'm underage. You know what'll happen to Grey's career? His contract for next season will be revoked. There's talk of the league suspending him. He won't get a chance at the Cup."

My fragile self-control broke, and I began to sob again. "This is my fault. I knew it would happen. I knew it. I've ended his career. Because of me, he'll end it in disgrace. Shunned. Called a f-fucking pedophile ."

Frank reached across the table and placed a fresh hankie in my hand. "I always carry an extra."

When I managed to quit crying, blow my nose, and wiped my face again, I caught Frank's gentle smile. "What?"

"You can prove you're not underage, my sweet girl. Go public. Show your birth certificate. Grant an interview where it's passed around. Tell the public the truth."

I gaped in horror. "I can't ."

He sipped his coffee. "You don't want to end Grey's career, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Then have your fifteen minutes of fame and enjoy the fuck out of it."

My coffee had grown tepid as I cried. I sipped anyway, pondering what Frank said.

Call a news conference. Tell the truth. Show the truth of your age. Denounce Colton as the liar he is.

"I'd have to tell them how he dumped me, humiliated me." I swallowed. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"You told me, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you're my friend."

"I was a stranger when you told me, sweetie. Remember?"

"Yeah, no…maybe." I drank again, grimaced, and set my cup down. "It's been so long."

Frank leaned forward, his gaze intent. "I'll help you. So will that hunk you adore. You write, don't you? Write an editorial for the local paper. Explain what happened. Post it on the net. Put it on any and all chat boards, Instagram, Facebook, tweet it, blog it. Grey is the next best thing to a national hero. Turn yourself into the wronged heroine, the lady the evil ex exploited out of jealousy."

"Are you kidding?"

"I am deadly serious, girl. Use what you know, the blogging, the article writing. Make the netizens fall in love with you. Make them support Grey Aldine as not just a hockey hero, but the father to the ungrateful son. Turn their hearts to you and your hunk. Word will spread, I promise."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, it will. And the crazies will crawl out of their holes in the ground and make it all bad again. They'll say I'm lying about my age, and that Grey is a pedophile. You know they will."

"Sure." Frank smirked. "And their crazy voices will be drowned out by the chorus of adulation from those you touch."

"You're nuts, Frankie."

" You're nuts if you don't follow my advice. Step up to the plate, swing at the ball. I know you'll knock it out of the park."

I covered my face with my right hand, my left arm still strapped to my torso. "I'm not sure I can."

Frank dragged my hand from my face. "You can. I said I'd help, and I will. Where's Grey now?"

I drew in a ragged breath. "He got called to the Vipers' owner's office. A five o'clock meeting, but first he's meeting with his coach and NHL officials. Frank, what if the owner revokes his contract?" I gazed into blank space, horrified. "It's my fault."

"First, you don't know what'll happen. Second, Grey can sue for every penny in that contract, and he'll win. Third, I'm willing to bet the dude stands by Grey through it all."

"Why do you think that?"

Frank smiled. "Because Grey is his ticket to the Stanley Cup."

***

"You're writing a press release," Frank advised, standing behind me. "Use formal language, don't jazz anything up. Just tell the truth in simple terms. Don't get emotional, don't accuse, or point your finger. Let the editors read between the lines that Colton lied."

I sucked in a deep breath. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

With Frank's help and encouragement, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing my version of events. Also with his help, I found the email addresses of the editors of every major paper and cable news network we could think of. After writing my press release, I copied and pasted it into my email program.

I then hit "Send".

"Holy shit," I breathed. "Will they read it, you think?"

"They see your name in their list, they'll click your link." He kissed my cheek. "I promise. Now the letter to the editor of the city's major newspaper."

That letter proved easier to write as I could and did point the accusing finger at Colton. I touched upon my humiliation at being dumped, my feelings when I walked away from the camp that night, meeting Grey before I died, our mutual and instant attraction.

Grey Aldine is no pedophile. I am twenty-two years of age. True, Grey Aldine is much older than I am. True, Colton Aldine was once someone I loved deeply. My love for Grey is complete and total. That Colton has chosen to reveal our relationship to the press in a negative light was his choice, and his alone. I am writing this of my own free will, and have little desire for anything save to set the record straight.

"Yay," Frank yelled. "Now send it. Demand it be published in tomorrow's daily edition."

I added that into the subject line of the e-mail and sent it . My confidence in telling my story grew and then doubled. I no longer felt helpless against Colton's shitty jealousy and petty revenge. Hope grew within me that Grey's sterling reputation would be reestablished in the minds and hearts of all fans of not just the Vipers, but of hockey in general.

"Now what?"

I turned to Frank, grinning in delight, happy that I'd done something positive for a change. All my life, I'd been swept along with events out of my control. Now I was in control. I could and would make a difference by changing the terrible effects of Colton's accusations.

And turn folks who read the news against him .

"Blogging," he answered, drinking the coffee I'd brewed. "Write a short but concise blog, no more than five hundred or so words in length. Readers lose interest if a blog goes on too long."

"You know this how?"

"Never mind. I know. Now write."

My shoulder throbbing from the activity I forced my left hand into, I grit my teeth and wrote. After a few changes, suggested by Frank to make it more emotional and heart wrenching, I posted it on every blog site we thought of. Copy- paste soon grew repetitive, and very boring.

I sat back, rubbing my sore collarbone, and craved a strong drink. "What now?"

"The phone." Frank smiled. "You're going to arrange a news conference to begin at six o'clock tonight. The sooner you get your story out, the better."

Horrified, I glanced at my computer. "It's four now. It'll never happen in time."

"Then you'd better get started, girlfriend."

***

Garbed in a conservative dress, wearing sensible flat shoes, sweating buckets I hoped didn't show in my armpits, I waited at the podium as reporters, camera folks, and newspaper editors filed into the conference room I'd reserved at the best hotel in Montpellier. Only with Frank's help did my impromptu news conference come together as smoothly as it did.

I glanced toward Frank, who sat in a chair in the front row, but to the far left of me. He offered a confident smile and nod, granting me the assurance I needed to sip at the glass of water and lift my chin.

The conference room, minus its table, was huge. Reporters and their teams packed it completely. Lights shone into my eyes, making me blink, and I felt the need to step back, protect myself.

Only a steel resolve that Colton would never win this round kept my feet planted, the words I'd planned to say welded firmly within my mind, my chin raised high.

I've got you, you shit. I won't let you ruin Grey's career. That's what you want, isn't it? His career in flames, his name in the muck while you gloat over him in triumph, revenge complete. And with Grey in ashes, I will be too. But that's not gonna happen, sonny. Not while I can still fight back.

"Ready whenever you are, Ms. March," the organizer said.

I nodded and faced the press. "I'd like to make a short speech," I began, "then I'll take questions. I apologize in advance if I appear nervous, I'm truly not. I'm scared stiff."

A patter of laughter greeted this comment, granting me more confidence. A swift glance at Frank boosted my morale even further. Smiling into the brilliant lights, I said, my tone clear and strong, "First, I must tell you who I am. My name is Elenore Jean March. I work as a freelance social media manager, and I am twenty-two-years-old."

Reporters jotted notes. The cameras focused on my face, on my dress, on the stupid purple streak in my hair.

Lifting my chin, I went on. "What I plan to tell you is both personal and humiliating, and I ask your indulgence in bearing with me. It's true I was, and I must emphasize was , Colton Aldine's girlfriend. Here we get to the difficult part of my story."

I swallowed hard. "Three months ago, on a camping trip with friends, I discovered Colton Aldine had not just been cheating on me with my friend, he had informed me he no longer wanted me around. He had, in his words, fallen out of love with me."

I paused, letting my words sink in.

"Hurt, betrayed, alone as never before, I left the camp and started to walk. In the darkness, the winter's cold, I walked away. From Colton, from the friends who weren't…and I expected to die that night."

I smiled slightly. "Until Grey Aldine saved my life."