Chapter 57

Fifty-Seven

SCOTTIE

I left my phone on the counter and purposefully kept my back to the living room camera so Emory wouldn't see the utter devastation on my face when he finds out I'm gone and looks at the footage.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

It's the only thing I can think as I sit in my parked car and stare at the homeless camp I know my mother frequents.

I find it truly pathetic that the first place I go when I'm in a pit of despair is here, but sometimes I like to pretend that the woman who birthed me and told me fairy tales before bed while my dad leaned against the door is still in there somewhere.

My heart aches with every beat.

I wipe my face again as another tear escapes. Shutter looks up from my lap when the droplet lands on his sleek fur, but he goes back to resting a moment later.

Glancing at the clock, I know Emory is home from practice by now.

I'm positive he's heard. He's likely read all the articles and is trying to fix things or, knowing him, trying to figure out who found out about us… about me …and revealed it to the press.

A jealous woman?

Maybe another hockey player with a vengeance for the Blue Devils and their recent success?

It doesn't really matter.

There's too much evidence and too many conspiracy theories roaming the internet like a plague to deny it all.

I put my car in drive after placing Shutter on the blanket in the front seat. I have one thought in my head, and it's how I'm going to beat Emory to the punch.

The media may think we're a fluke, and we did begin that way, but things have changed.

What hasn't changed is that I signed up to do a job, and I am not a quitter.

Emory Olson married me so I would fix his image, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

As soon as I pull up to the Cat House, Shutter meows.

"Don't worry." I smile softly at him. "I'm not leaving you here."

He climbs out of the car after me and stays right beside the tire as I head for the door. Only a few cars are in the parking lot, and I've gotta make this quick because Emory's determination runs deep, and he'll come looking for me.

I open the door and head for the back, hoping to avoid my ex-boss.

When I step into the dressing room, Chastity is applying her eyelashes. With one half attached, she turns and envelops me in a warm hug.

"I knew you'd show up here," she whispers, pulling us apart to look me up and down. "You okay?"

"You've heard? But you don't even watch hockey."

My face heats. God, does the whole world know?

She shrugs, and I can't stop staring at her eyelash hanging on by a thread. I take the glue from her and tip her chin to fix it.

"It has to do with the Cat House. Russ was making a whole production over it."

"Great," I mumble. "Is he pissed? I should go before he sees me."

I hand the glue back to Chastity, and she laughs. "Are you kidding? He's elated. He said, and I quote, ‘S omeone get Cherry back here! She needs a raise .'"

I feel an insane amount of dread at the thought.

"In that case, bye."

Chastity laughs again and pushes lightly on my shoulder. "What do you need, babe? I know you're not actually thinking of coming back to work here." She glances at my finger, and my stomach falls.

"Your phone," I say. "For five minutes, max."

"You've got it." She rushes over on bare feet and pulls out her phone.

"I'll be right back."

Before I leave her, she grabs onto my hand. "Hey, I'm serious. Are you okay?"

No.

I've never been this not okay in my life, and that's truly saying something, considering.

"I'm fine." The lie rolls right off my tongue.

My heart beats harder with each step I take to the back room.

When I shut the door and log in to Emory's social media, I clear my head and get to work.

Betty snores. Loudly.

With her deep snoring and Shutter chasing cockroaches all night long, I haven't slept in days.

Without a phone, I haven't checked the internet. I have no idea how long it took for Emory to see what I posted or if it went viral like everything else relating to us.

I've been living the last several days on autopilot. When I showed up at Betty's, it was because I had nowhere else to go. I snuck through without Gerald seeing me, and since then, he hasn't noticed the girl and her cat living in his crabby ol' tenant's apartment—not even when I tag along to work with Betty to help her clean houses.

All I can seem to think of while wiping windows and mopping floors is Emory. But each time he pops into my head, I run from him, only to think of my brother a moment later. I wonder if he's called me or left any messages.

Everything feels messy and chaotic—even as I lie on the scratchy couch and watch Shutter play peek-a-boo with a bug.

Betty snores again, and it doesn't even faze me as I reach for the remote. A tinge of fear rolls around my head when the TV comes to life. I'm half-afraid to see my face on the screen as breaking news, but my life doesn't mean much to the real world.

It only means something to Russ, for the popularity it's bringing to his strip club, and the hockey gurus. Emory's parents' faces flash in my head, and I quickly shut them out too.

I shut everything out until I'm left with nothing.

I'm numb.

It's a skill I learned very early on in my life.

If something hurts you, stay away from it.

And thinking of the last few months, and what could have been, is a knife in my back.

My finger presses on the remote over and over again as I lie mindlessly on the couch, too afraid to let myself think.

I don't know which way is up or down.

I'm not sure what the future brings or how I'm going to pay those legal fees I promised William I'd take care of.

There's some money in my account from what Emory pays me monthly and from taking the photos for Serena Sinclair, but until she outsources them to magazines, it's all I have. Considering the hockey wives now know I'm a fraud, I can probably toss them off my clientele list.

I laugh sarcastically.

What a fucking mess.

My finger freezes when hockey fills the screen. A tight knot forms in my throat when I see the blue and black jerseys on the ice.

Turn the channel, Scottie.

With Emory, I felt like I had it all.

I had the world in my hands.

We had a plan. I could see a future that wasn't so…scary.

But now, everything is gone. I know I did the right thing by coming forward and telling the social media sharks that it was all my idea and that I blackmailed their star goalie. Emory Olson is a good man, and he doesn't deserve to be viewed as anything but.

We started out playing such an innocent game, but I lost, and it's a loss that's hard to accept.