Chapter 47
TALLY
Flip’s interview with Marietta from the Tribune went live last night. Coupled with his Tampon Toss video, they reached viral status within a few hours. Apparently, my period makes an excellent headline. At least we’ve found a way to turn my monthly cycle into something positive.
The amount of attention I’ve received over the past forty-eight hours, has made it hard to focus. It’s stress on top of stress because I have final assignments to hand in, exams to prepare for, and a showcase I can’t afford to flub.
But tonight, I’m with my Babes at the Terror game.
I want to be a supportive girlfriend. The anxiety is hard to handle, though.
I keep waiting for someone to yell something vile.
It happened relentlessly after the pictures of Flip and me leaving the restaurant went viral.
But after Flip’s interview, the tone changed, and I’ve been on the receiving end of empathy.
And everyone wants Flip Madden to be their boyfriend. The whiplash is intense.
Once again, it feels like all eyes are on me. Hammer had special jerseys made featuring a smiling cartoon tampon for the Terror’s newest community outreach initiative: The Tampon Toss.
For every box of women’s feminine products donated, Connor’s family is matching it with a monetary donation to local women’s shelters. One lucky person will win box seats during the first home playoff game.
So, hockey and community support are the main focus again, aside from one hockey blogger who is on a mission to dig up every skeleton in Flip’s walk-in closet.
“How are you feeling?” Hammer hugs my arm.
“Okay. Anxious. Nervous.”
“We got you,” Rix says from my other side.
“No one messes with our Tally.” Hemi squeezes my shoulder from behind me.
“It’s nice to feel insulated here,” I admit.
“It’s been tough on campus?” Hammer asks.
“Depends on the day and the headline.” My Tilton friends have been amazing, and Cammie and Fee both understand the challenge, but no one can pluck the things people have said to me out of my ears.
I know it will stop, and that people’s attention span for drama is fleeting, but when the drama is me, it’s inescapable.
“Sometimes I just feel buried underneath it all,” I admit.
“It would be fine if it was just one thing, but it’s school and dance and the future and family and blah. ” I exhale a heavy breath.
“It’s a lot. More than you need,” Rix says gently.
“You and Flip need some space to just be a couple without the constant attention,” Dred says softy. She understands what it’s like to be under the microscope. She and Connor were always a headline from their engagement announcement until their wedding.
“Not long and most of it will be behind us, though.” I try to infuse that statement with some positivity. This is equally stressful for Phillip’s with playoffs looming.
“You’re almost through it,” Rix agrees.
I want to be excited about what’s next, but the only thing I feel certain about is my relationship with Flip.
We settle in as the game gets underway and I’m happy to have my focus somewhere other than myself.
“Offense is playing smooth tonight,” Hemi says.
I nod in agreement. Last night Flip came over and reviewed plays on his tablet while I studied for my Marketing for Creatives exam. “Flip said Connor, Ash, and Quinn have been working with Kellan on their defensive strategy,” I say.
“The four of them were hanging out in our living room with a whiteboard yesterday,” Dred confirms. “Everly made sure they never ran out of refreshments.”
“Because Quinn is cute?” Hammer asks.
“She has her eye on Kellan.”
Everly is almost eighteen, and Kellan is twenty-seven. “Something about those older boys, huh?” I quip.
Hammer grins. “Seems that way.”
“I’m hopeful college next year will help distract her for a while,” Dred says.
“It didn’t really work for me, but maybe it’ll be more successful for Everly,” I mumble.
That earns me some chuckles.
We shift our attention to the game as Toronto gains control of the puck and carries it to Boston’s net.
I follow Flip down the ice, as he and Dallas pass back and forth, looking for an opening, but Boston steals it back.
His shoulders tense for a moment, but he rushes after Boston’s center, snatching it back and tipping it to Tristan.
I grip my armrest, the pressure of the game just as heavy as everything else.
If Flip doesn’t play well tonight, there will be more questions about the impact of our relationship on the team this season.
The net is open, so Tristan takes his shot, but it bounces off Boston’s goalie’s pads. “Fuck,” I mutter.
“It’s okay.” Hammer squeezes my hand.
I exhale a tense breath as Connor catches it on the rebound. He flips it into the air and taps it. The puck sails past the goalie’s glove and into the net.
“Hell yes!” I’m out of my seat, fist pumping as the arena follows in a wave, screaming and clapping. The relief that the Terror are on their game tonight is overwhelming. It means fewer whispers on campus tomorrow.
The goal puts Toronto up by two points. They maintain the lead but don’t increase it through the end of the second period and the third, giving us another hard-earned win.
The high of the victory spills over into the crowd, and the girls and I agree to wait until things die down before we leave the box.
Connor’s face appears on the jumbotron. His brows are slanted, his expression severe as he answers questions about his goal and how he feels as the team approaches the playoffs.
This has been his best season yet, and he credits his coaches, teammates, and the support of his family.
I center my full attention on Flip when he appears on the screen. He didn’t score a goal tonight, but he helped make both of them happen.
The sportscasters ask the usual questions about the game and how he feels going into the playoffs, especially since it’s been a tumultuous season.
“Being in a relationship with the coach’s daughter must put pressure on your game,” one reporter says.
“That’s not a question,” Flip bites out, his frustration obvious.
“There are some rumors floating around about your past relationships. Would you like to debunk them?” another tosses out.
Flip sighs and runs a hand through his wet hair. “Haven’t I done that enough this season? This has nothing to do with the game.”
“Does your girlfriend know about your ex-wife?” another reporter asks.
It feels as if ice has been injected into my veins. Ex-wife? I laugh shrilly at the preposterousness. “Oh, come on, this is next-level ridiculous.” My stomach bottoms out as the color drains from Flip’s face. “That’s impossible.” I glance at my friends, hoping to see my disbelief reflected at me.
“This is bullshit,” Rix says with certainty. “I would know if my brother had been married.”
I glom onto Rix’s conviction and try to make it my own.
Hemi, Hammer, Essie, and Shilpa all look as shocked as I feel and Rix sounds, but it’s Dred’s face I lock on to.
Because she doesn’t look surprised at all.
“No comment,” Flip grinds out.
Dred’s eyes slide closed, and she sighs, despondently.
“Dred?” I croak.
All eyes move to her.
“You should let him explain,” she says softly.
“So it’s true?” Flip was married. He fell in love, committed himself to someone, and ended it. Why? Who? When? Why is Dred the only person who knows?
“That’s not possible.” Rix’s disbelief mirrors my own.
“Was it you?” I feel sick.
“No, it was long before me. It’s not my story to tell,” Dred replies.
Dred has always been Flip’s strongest ally. His best friend. The one person he trusts more than anyone else.
More than me.
Flip was married and divorced, and he never shared it with me. Even he doesn’t believe in lasting love. It’s devastating in a way I can’t quite process to learn this about him in such a public way. To find out this secret along with everyone else.
He was my first.
I’m supposed to be his last.
Why wouldn’t he tell me?
Why did he give his heart to someone else and take it back?
Does this mean he can never give me his?