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CHAPTERTHIRTY
MACKENZIE
It’s only when something like this happens that you realize how quickly word spreads nowadays. Once upon a time gossip was spread through letters, taking days or months to land on people’s doormats.
Even when I went viral it wasn’t until the next day that the video was uploaded onto a gossip website and people started clicking.
But in today’s world of Tiktok and Snapchat and instant gratification it only takes a few seconds for everybody to share the video of Eli and Isabella kissing. Within ten minutes it’s a Romeo and Juliet-worthy meme, with Eli and Danny scrapping on the ice as they fight over my sister.
A romance for the ages. Beautiful to look at but completely fake.
It still hurts, though. Mostly because I only have myself to blame. I sit in my chair and listen as the staff gushes about how beautiful that kiss was, how unfair it was that Eli had to pay a penalty.
Whether that means that Isabella will be spending more time in Morgantown now that she and Eli are in love.
My phone starts to blow up. Rachel messages, asking me what the hell is going on. Followed by Sophie, Eli’s sister-in-law, who is somewhere in the stadium. I turn my phone off, because my heart is racing so hard I think it might explode out of my chest.
I know Eli isn’t having an affair with my sister. I know this was her vengeance for Danny Hart winding her up.
I know this. And still, it hurts.
The game continues for another fifteen minutes. I watch vacantly, not taking anything in. Eli comes back on eventually, and Danny is nowhere to be seen.
When the final whistle blows, everybody roars, and I have to look at the screen to see that we’ve won. Goran and Carter are doing some kind of ice dance together on the rink.
“Are you coming down with us?”
I blink, realizing that Brian is talking to me.
“What?”
“To the press conference,” Brian says slowly, giving me a strange look. “I just asked you twice. Are you okay?”
All of the staff are invited to the press conference. My dad thought it was a good idea, he wanted to thank everybody for their efforts. We’re supposed to line up at the back while he and Eli take questions, then he’ll make a speech at the end.
“Yes, I’m coming,” I say, standing. I’m still wearing Eli’s jersey. One of his actual ones that he gave me after the last game. It smells of him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Brian asks.
“I’m fine.” I nod, feeling anything but. “Let’s go.”
The press room is heaving by the time we get there. A long trestle table has been set up at the front for the team members to sit at, and in the main body of the room are rows of chairs, all of which are full. Cameras are aimed, people are talking at each other rapidly.
Everybody is staring at the door where the players will come in. Brian reaches down and squeezes my hand and that stupid, simple gesture brings tears to my eyes.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Then the door opens. The players are freshly showered, most of them still with wet hair, and their hockey gear has disappeared, replaced by tailored suits. Goran is grinning widely, Carter is striding in like he’s king of the hill, Max just looks bored.
And Eli? Where is he?
The other team walks in. My stomach drops when I see Danny. I look around the room and realize that Mom and Isabella aren’t here. Hopefully Mom’s taken her home, because we don’t need any more dramatics.
And then I seehim. Eli and my dad walk in together. My dad takes the first seat in the center of the table and Eli follows. His hair is damp, brushed back from his face. His lip is swollen and split. It’s a strange contrast to his perfectly knotted gray tie and crisp white shirt.
His face is absolutely expressionless as his eyes scan the room. I swallow hard as his gaze lands on me.
And doesn’t leave.
