22– Gabrielle

I was a fool.

I was so fucking stupid.

The memory of my mother’s voice—shrill, calculating, and dripping with venom—played on an endless, looping torment in my head. 

I couldn’t believe that I had let her poison sink its hooks so deep that I had actually hurled those words at Kayden.

How could I have looked him in the eye and told him I was ashamed of him?

Me? Ashamed to be associated with Kayden Alvarez? 

The thought made my stomach heave.

I scrambled up to my room, shoving whatever clothes my hands brushed against into my suitcase, and bolted back downstairs. 

The suitcase hit the backseat with a thud. I rounded the car, threw myself into the driver’s side, and peeled out of Kayden’s driveway before my brain could fully catch up with my racing pulse. 

My trembling thumb found Arthur’s contact by muscle memory.

“Gabrielle?” Arthur’s thick voice buzzed through the speaker, sounding heavy like I interrupted something.

“Hey, Arthur,” I rushed out, my voice cracking at the edges. “Quick question, that sports medicine doctor friend of yours in Montreal, is she still taking private consultations?”

“Yes, why?” Arthur questioned, the heaviness instantly stripping away from his tone.

“Can she meet with Kayden today?” I demanded, blowing right past his question.

“If it’s necessary,” he responded slowly.

“It’s necessary,” I blurted out, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white.

Silence stretched across the line. I could practically hear the gears grinding in Arthur’s head, calculating the fallout. 

I knew he was waiting for an explanation, but I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. If I admitted what I witnessed, it’d feel like betraying the fragile, bruised pieces of Kayden’s pride.

The humiliation I had seen in his eyes told me everything I needed to know: he hated that I had witnessed his weakness more than he hated the pain his father inflicted.

“Arthur—”

“I need to know why, Gabrielle,” he cut in, his voice becoming authoritative. “Did you get into trouble? Did Kayden get into trouble? Just how big of a crisis are we looking at here?”

“One question at a time, please.”

“I would’ve extended that courtesy if I was remotely sure you’d answer any of them.”

I bit down hard on my bottom lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. A shuddering sigh tore its way out of my chest. “Kayden needs this, Arthur. He’s hurt, and I know him. He wouldn't forfeit tomorrow’s game for anything on this earth. I just… I have to help him.”

“How did he get hurt?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Is it something that’s going to leak to the press? Do we need to prep for a PR cleanup?”

“I don't think it’ll come to that. I just need him functional enough to get on the ice tomorrow without collapsing.”

“You got it, Gabrielle,” Arthur sighed on the other end.

“Really?”

“Yes. Provided the blowback doesn't trace back to my desk.”

“I promise you it won't,” I breathed. “Thank you, Arthur. This… God, this means everything to me.”

Even if I could never claw back the words I had spewed at Kayden, at least I could salvage something. At least I could move mountains behind his back to make sure he did what he liked doing best.

Adrenaline was still high in my bloodstream, making it difficult to get a firm grasp of my steering wheel.

Every word, every venomous accusation my mother had planted in my head last night had just been shattered into pieces.

He isn't a manipulative user.

Kayden wasn't a spoiled, entitled playboy playing a long game to secure endorsements. 

He was a protector. 

He was a survivor fighting a silent, horrific war behind closed doors while the entire world cheered for his perfection on the ice. 

He had literally thrown his own body into the line of fire to take a blow meant for me, right after I had told him I was ashamed to be associated with him.

Fuck me but my pride didn’t matter anymore. 

 

I didn't care if Kayden hated me, and I didn't care if he yelled at me to get the fuck away from him again.

I finally swerved into the airfield and slammed my car into park, and sprinted out.

Once I was cleared to pass the gates—which was a few agonizing seconds, I ran toward the plane stairs. The players were almost all inside.

And then I spotted him.

Kayden was standing at the very base of the stairs, his hand gripped white-knuckled around the railing. 

His hoodie was pulled over his face, his dark shades masking his eyes, his head lowered as his shoulders hitched.

He was moving in slow motion, trying to find the strength to lift his foot to the first step without collapsing from the pain.

“Kayden!” I shouted over the roaring of the jet turbines.

He froze. Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head around.

“I told you to leave me alone, Gabrielle,” he ground out, his voice a rough, gravelly whisper that barely carried over the engine noise. 

“Why should I leave you alone? I’m still your girlfriend,” I muttered.

He scoffed bitterly. “Not anymore.”

“Then as your handler—”

“You don’t work for me anymore, Gabrielle,” he said, his voice bored.

“Really?” I stepped closer, batting my lashes. “So you’re going to throw me away now? After you’ve dragged me into the spotlight?”

I wasn’t seeing Kayden’s eyes, but I could swear he just rolled them at me. 

“I don’t have time for this,” his voice rumbled low in his throat.

I reached for him and he moved out of the way, letting my hand just hover in the air.

“I’m not letting you travel by yourself in this state,” I breathed. “I don’t care if you don’t want me here, but you—”

Kayden turned his back on me before I could even finish, his fingers tightening on the railing as he forced his foot up the first step. “Go home, Gabrielle Rose. You don't work for me anymore.”

This asshole.

Fuck… I needed to calm down. 

I swallowed hard and marched up to the base of the stairs, stepping into his path. I didn't flinch away from his anger. I reached out, my fingers catching the edge of his sleeve, refusing to let him take another step up those stairs without me.

“You can fire me as your handler, Alvarez,” I told him, my heart hammering a fierce rhythm against my ribs. “But you don't get to be in pain on my watch. Move over.”