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This happened a lot the first year, when they tried getting to me before I caught on to what they wanted. Mostly, they were friendly. They wanted to interview Ryan Jensen’s girlfriend. They meant well, wanted to portray me or us in a positive light, but there’d been some who had the ‘gotcha’ angle behind their blogs. They wanted dirt, and Ryan being as big of a basketball player as he was, they thought his name would jumpstart their career.
She had that look. It was small, and it was hidden well, but it was there.
I shook my head. “No comment.” I ignored her after that, heading outside and beginning to angle my way to check the mail area.
She caught up to me, a hand to my arm. “I’m not here to do you bad or anything, but you need to know something.”
I paused, but gave her hand a meaningful look.
She snatched it away, shuffling out of the way of oncoming people. Lowering her head and voice, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, saying, “I had to ask. What kind of journalist would I be if I didn’t, but I get it. I do. But, listen, you should know that a bunch of us got tips dropped in our DMs by a credible source saying that you were seeking treatment in a mental health facility this summer.”
My body went cold.
“Most times, mental health is off-limits, but we’re being told your treatment has been affecting Jensen’s playing. What affects Ryan Jensen, affects the team, and that is what everyone is mostly concerned about. So, do you have any comment that your mental health struggles have affected Ryan Jensen’s playing this year?”
This was a nightmare. It wasn’t my worst-case scenario, but it was up there. What I struggled with, had struggled with in the past was considered taboo. People didn’t want to hear about it. They didn’t want to hear the word that was used to describe it. Somehow, it got mixed up with other words and phrases like weak, giving up, coward. The truth was so much the opposite. Struggling with what I did, what Willow did, it was the hardest struggle to endure. It was crippling. It was a burden no one else could understand, and that was if they even wanted to understand.
For this girl to stand in front of me, ask me so casually, almost carelessly, about how my mental health was affecting Ryan? I wanted to sink my teeth into her neck and never let go.
She was waiting, watching me with an eagerness that had my blood boiling.
I took a breath and counted to ten.
God, Willow, if you were here? What would you say to this girl?
My sister would rip into her and wouldn’t let loose until she had to crawl away, permanently scarred.
She’d been watching me process her question, and the longer it took me to say anything, the slight smug look she first had was beginning to fade.
“Off the record,” I started, flashing her a forced smile because I was not stupid. I knew how this worked. If she was calling herself a journalist, she would need to adhere to their code. Off the record meant nothing I said could be used. When that smug expression completely fell away, I continued, my tone chilled, “How did you think this was going to go? You throw out a statement like that, where if it was true, would be when I was at my most vulnerable and you swoop in to do what? Shame me? Guilt me? If it were true? Or is this a very crass way of letting me know that someone is targeting my boyfriend already? Their first practice was yesterday. There’s no credibility to your source because of that mere fact. You want a scoop? Look at who dropped that tip and find out why they’re making up shit.”
I began to leave when she called out behind me, “Was any of that a comment?”
I paused again, leveling her with a hard look. “Still off the record here, but I’m assuming you did your research into me. You know what my sister did?” Her eyes flashed. She did. I kept on, drawing in some air, for what I wasn’t sure. Rationality? Strength? Calm? Either way, I was still gritting my teeth at dealing with this topic at all. “If you continue down this line of reporting, I’ve half a mind to do what my sister would’ve done.”
She frowned.
I pressed my mouth together. “You didn’t do enough research. Willow wasn’t nice like me. She was vengeful, so if you think to try using any possible mental health struggles I may have against Ryan, I’ll do what my sister would’ve done. She would’ve turned the lens on you. She would look into you. Look into your loved ones. Look for any dirty secrets you may be holding onto, and then she would’ve blasted them to the world so you could see what that might be like, your biggest vulnerability used as a headline.”
Her mouth snapped closed. “You can’t do that to all of us.”
I shook my head. “There’s not many of you that would use someone’s mental health as click bait, and all of that was still off the record.”
She held back when I left, and I bypassed the mailroom and went straight for the library.
Some may say I acted too quickly, that I was on the defense too soon. They’d be wrong. To have my personal struggle get used against Ryan? It was something I never wanted to happen. Ever. And fuck her because how dare she? Come at me, throwing that rumor in my face? Everything I said was the truth, including that very little press would use my mental health for a tagline. But it was also true that the real story was whoever was already going after Ryan so as I turned on a computer, I added one of Ryan’s teammates to the list for me to start cyberstalking.
But first, I was going to turn Kellie Rispins’s life upside down and see what shook free.
5
MAREN
Right after we both came, I shoved him off of me, turned my back, and finished my shower. As far as he was concerned, he could go—I didn’t know, but I was a mess of whirling emotions once we finished. Or I was until he groaned behind me, a hand slid around my waist and he fit himself to me all over again.
“Don’t,” I said, going still.
“Right.” He scoffed, his body pressing in hard against me. His hand slid up, circled my breast before giving it a squeeze and moving down between my legs. He pressed over my clit, circling me, rubbing, and at the same time, his teeth grazed over my shoulder.
