Page 16 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

"I've got time."

"It's bait for a reporter," I explain, dropping onto the bench to pull my jersey on over my head. "I started a rumor to get her attention. Except my teammates are assholes and decided to take it to extremes. Now, I'm apparently on my way to prison for drug smuggling or some shit."

Harrison hears me from the opposite side of the locker room and cackles, the bastard. I flip him off, which just makes him laugh again. I swear, I'm going to kill them all for this shit.

I told them to be vague, not turn me into a criminal mastermind. Clearly, I put too much trust in the bastards because the entire damn staff is now involved, I'm apparently heading to prison, and it'll be a miracle if some other reporter doesn't get wind of this entire shitshow.

Raise a hand if you've ever been personally victimized by a rumor you started about yourself.

"Jesus Christ," Callie groans. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"I'm aware, but I'm fixing it."

"How are you fixing it?"

"I threatened to start revealing real dirt if these fuckers don't correct the record," I say. "They're on top of it."

"How, precisely, are they on top of it, Phoenix?"

"They're floating a new story." It's a terrible plan, quite frankly. I'm aware of this. But it's better than letting this whole "Phoenix is going to prison for drug smuggling" rumor continue to grow. It's also better than admitting to Cara that I started the rumor myself. I plan to do that…eventually. But not yet.

The longer rumors fly, the more excuses I have to see her. Right now, I need every excuse. I haven't seen her in the last five days. I'm losing my mind.

Corey isn't having the same problem. He took a puck bunny back to his room after the game in Colorado on Saturday. Which is just further proof that he does not now and will not ever deserve Cara. I spent the whole night dreaming about her. He spent it forgetting she even exists. We are not the same.

"Jesus Christ," Callie groans.

"I've got it under control."

"You most definitely do not have it under control if I'm hearing about it!" she says and then groans. "But you know what? Knock yourself out. I hope whichever reporter you're terrorizing right now writes an expose about you."

"What's there to expose?"

"Gee, I don't know. Your lack of anything resembling two brain cells capable of rubbing together hard enough to produce the electricity needed to spur a rational thought?" she retorts.

A rough bark of laughter escapes before I can stop it. "Goddamn, you're mean."

"The truth hurts. You better hope your rumors don't escape containment or you're on your own."

"They won't," I promise. I mean, they haven't yet. And if they do, it's not like anyone is going to find anything to confirm them. It's all just gossip and rumors, exactly as intended. If someone decides to write about them without proof, they'll be the ones who look stupid in the end, not me. But so long as the gossip keeps Cara here, hunting for the truth, it's doing what it was meant to do.

Look, I said I had a plan. I never said I had a good plan. Clearly, I should have thought it through a little more carefully and made a few amendments—like not entrusting said plan to my teammates. But the puck has been shot now. I can't wind it back.

"They better not," Callie says before hanging up on me like usual.

I toss my phone in my locker and then grab my skates. Harrison is still at his locker, dressing slowly.

"She's going to kill you," he says.

"I'm aware," I grunt, earning laughter from him. "But Callie is the least of my problems at the moment. Apparently, I'm a drug-smuggling future convict. Fuck you all very much for that."

He cackles again.

"See you on the ice."

"See ya." He shoots me a wave before I duck through the door.

My heart goes into overdrive as soon as I spot Cara standing against the wall with her hands behind her back, staring at a stain in the cement. She's in another of her fuck-me dresses, her hair pinned up on top of her head.