“Fine,” he grumbles. “This isn’t going the way I was hoping it would. Look, my first priority in this phone call is to ask if you’re okay. I tried to look for you after the fight and you were gone. I didn’t…You didn’t get hurt in the crossfire, did you?”
It’s scary that he doesn’t know the answer to that question.
I cross my free arm in front of my chest, glaring at my television like it’s the one pissing me off.
“No. My friends got me out of there the moment you decided to defend my honour like you knew me.”
“Well, youaremy girlfriend.” I can practically hear the grin through the phone.
I swear, this man needs his head checked. He’s completely deranged. But still…
“Areyouokay?” I ask, despite my best judgement, because my inability to stop stalking him online proves I’m worried about how this ends for him.
It was very hard for me to leave that scene. People were bleeding. People were hurt. It’s my job to tend to people when that happens. I don’t want to feel bad for the guy who felt me up, but Carter got in a few strong hits. The size difference alone was scary. The force Carter had in his punches was a different level of frightening.
I took an oath. I am a medical professional.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says casually. “You should see the other guy.”
I did. I’m not sure the other guy can seeanyoneright now.
I scoff, shaking my head. “That’s not funny.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, but I’m not sure if I believe him. “Look, I’m basically on my knees here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Metaphorically, Red. Get your head out of the gutter. I’m sure the image of me on my knees in front of you is going straight into your wank bank.”
“Wank bank?” I sputter. What is he, a fourteen-year-old boy?
Sadly, I do conjure up the image of Carter Forkerro on his knees before me. That arrogant smirk on his mouth, my pride in the palm of his hands. It’s a nice image. Sue me.
“I’m trying to put my ego aside and ask you for a favour.”
I fall back into a much worse reality. He’s not on his knees, he’s in my ear. Annoying me. A favour? Don’t like the sound of that.
“I don’t do favours.”
“Humour me.”
“No,” I grumble.
“For fuck’s sake,” he whispers. Another long breath leaves his nose. “Look, I got myself in a bit of shit for what I did. Shit that is making people question my value.”
“Your sanity?”
“Sure, that too,” he says. “I can’t lose my spot on this team, Arden. I can’t risk it. I’m trying to do some damage control before this all snowballs and gets worse. That idiot is going to come forward and start talking. It’s only a matter of time.”
He will. He was a big Forkerro fan until he punched him in the mouth. There is no chance in hell that he doesn’t run with this, especially if people are waving around their checkbooks for an exclusive. It seems like a death sentence and a stupid move on his part, but there is no denying that it’s coming. I cannot imagine running to talk toanyoneif I got my asshanded to me by a famous hockey player for sexually harassing a woman.
How are you going to defend yourself, buddy?
He might try to lie, but there were too many witnesses for that, right? I was the one who got my ass touched. My friends saw enough and would back me and Carter up if necessary.
But… his friends could lie, too.
Oh, god. If this kid goes public, am I going to have to publicly defend Carter Forkerro?
