Page 36 of Home of the Brave

My brows shot up before I could control my reaction. That was an incredibly bold thing to say to someone whose words are their profession. “I take my job very seriously.”

He glared down at me. “Then you stand by everything you’ve published?”

“Yes,” I immediately answered. “I write facts.”

A mask of indifference slipped over his features so quickly I almost questioned if I’d seen him upset at all. “We’re done here.”

His words were loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, but so calm that there was a beat when no one reacted. Then the players turned to the reporters they were talking to and wrapped up before leaving. As they disappeared down the hall, he watched me. I looked around as my peers turned to stare. At me.

Without another word, he walked away.

His teammates were gone.

With a single command, one I hadn’t realized pertained to everyone else, he cleared the room.

A few of the other reporters shook their heads or shot me looks as their teams started to pack up, muttering and complaining just loud enough for me to hear.

“What was that?” Cambrie whispered as she put her camera away.

“I’m not sure.”

“You set him off. Again.”

“I don’t know why.” My voice rose, and I ducked my head before continuing. “Obviously, I pissed him off, but I don’t know when or how.”

“Well, he just initiated a walkout. I bet there won’t be a single word spoken to any of us by a Stars player until he gives the all-clear.”

Judging by the muttering and glares aimed at me from around the room, she was right.

His team was supporting him over something I did. He was getting his revenge and turning a dozen more people against me in the process.

“Whatever just happened,” Terry, a well-respected veteran reporter from Hockey Today, stopped in front of me with his cameraman next to him, “fix it before tomorrow.”

I nodded like a chastised child, and they left, along with everyone else.

Cambrie waited until everyone else was gone before coming to my side with her phone screen pointed at me.

I read the headline, and my heart sank through the floor.

“This Year’s Rookies: From Most Anticipated to Most Disappointing.”

“Oh, no.”

“Is it as bad as I’m assuming it is?” she asked.

I cringed. “I don’t remember word for word, but it wasn’t flattering. It was years ago, and one of my very first assignments.” I tried to hurry to explain. “My boss at the time turned out to be a huge jerk. He got fired a few months after I started, actually. He was trying to mentor me and told me if I wanted to make a name for myself, I had to write what people wanted to read, which was scandal, shocking, or satisfaction. The three S’s were his big push. When I sent in my initial copy, he tore it apart and said it was too boring to speak highly of all of them. He made a bunch of edits, none of which I had control over, and published it before I could even argue.” I glanced at her, and she gave me an understanding frown. “I wish more than anything my name wasn’t attached to that, but I had no say.”

“Oh, Victoria.” She slipped her phone into her bag.

“I know. I honestly forgot about that stupid piece because I didn’t write it. Only a few of the players featured have ever brought it up, and it was within the first few weeks of it being out. I explained to them and apologized, and they let it go. I figured everyone else either didn’t read it or didn’t care.”

“Henson cares.”

“That must be why he avoided me at the Olympics,” I realized aloud.

She blew out a long breath. “Can’t blame him."

No, and I didn’t. I would have hated something scathing being written about me when I was a player. Those things can sink into your psyche.