Chapter 33
Kane
“And please welcome, Kane Moretti!” There’s a round of polite clapping as I walk onto the set, waving at the small, seated crowd, and then sit on the couch across from the host.
Skipping the game to force Timber to meet Luke created so much bad press that Marilyn pushed me to do this interview. She said the station has been hounding her for a month to get me on, but they are more like a seedy gossip show, so she steers clear of them.
But I’ve been banished to appearances like this until I get my act together.
I also think she’s still feeling the pressure from all the times Timber and I get it on on the ice—though everyone else likes to call it fighting.
“Kane, thank you so much for joining us!” The hostess beams. She wears a casual suit, clutching some cards in front of her with the talk show logo on the back.
“And thank you for having me,” I reply smoothly. I don’t miss the way her eyes run over me. My blue suit is a good one, and they’ve given me a gold tie to match her style. It’s flashy, but I make it work.
They usually prep me by sending over the questions in advance, but they’re suspiciously sparse this time.
My manager was muttering about it when she gave me a pep talk on the ride over.
I don’t know if that means she knows what kinds of questions they’re going to spring on me.
They usually just ask about my performance, where I see myself in the next five years, offers I’ve had, and omegas I’ve been seen with.
Based on all the general buzz, I suspect they’ll lean more heavily into the last one.
Though we’re also convinced they are going to ask me if I’m being kicked off the team for skipping a game.
The coaches and managers were fuming, and my excuse of ‘it was all for love’ bizarrely didn’t work. But when I promised them to the moon and back it would change Timber’s performance, a few of them became curious instead of furious.
I’m only half listening to the hostess because my mind has been distracted since Timber left Luke’s hospital ward. Even though Ollie gave me cute glares and turned me on with her sweet sweat when we jogged together, both of them are still on the back foot with me.
I just want to grab them, push their heads together, and say, ‘Now kiss and make up,’ then we can all fuck and be merry.
The hostess runs through all the usual questions, and I answer them easily, throwing smiles out to the crowd as I take questions from them as well.
The hostess turns to me with sparkling eyes when the questions are over. Or, at least, when I think they are.
“And we’ve all heard about your exciting news!”
“What news is that?” I ask with an easy lilt to my voice. It’s finally coming, the real reason they invited me here.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell us who the lucky omega is that’s captured your heart?”
I pause, even though the smile is growing on my face. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Oh, come on, don’t be shy. We’ve all seen the pictures.” She turns her back to the crowd, and a projector screen ominously lights up with a picture of Ollie and me coming out of a heat room at the hospital. It’s been circulating for more than a month, and it’s nothing new.
“We know you’re good with the ladies, but this one feels different, doesn’t it?”
I think it’s just a photo of us. Until the image suddenly changes, and my mouth drops open as I’m gut-punched with shock on live TV.
It’s Ollie, curled over on the hospital waiting room floor, and a clear shot of me talking to the nurse. And the air vanishes from the room as I hear my voice echo out around the studio.
“Yes, they’re my mate. I’ll take care of them.”
Ice slides through my body, hands shaking, panic setting up a tempo inside me as the video starts to play.
The back of my head is to the audience, so they don’t see me throw the host a scared look, but she’s grinning at the screen with pride.
What the hell is going on?
“This was caught by an onlooker who just happened to be there. We thought we’d show you as a surprise!”
So basically, someone caught it, and the smart person thought to sell it to the show instead of posting it online. No wonder they were hounding Marilyn to get me in for an interview.
I told Ollie so many times I wouldn’t put her in the spotlight. It must have been filmed from the seating area. So how did the talk show have a video like this?
“We’re so looking forward to hearing who she is and how you met her!”
The way the hostess keeps assuming and emphasizing that Ollie is a woman just because she’s an omega is annoying me.
I need to get myself together. I can’t let the cameras catch my reaction. But I’m more scared that it will show Ollie’s face than I am about my reputation. I can deal with Timber’s anger, but I never want to be in a place where I might lose her, not again.
Thankfully, the way I’m holding her in the video means her face is mostly hidden by my body.
I turn to face the hostess with a cool smile. “I’m not sure how much I can say. She’s a very private person.”
“So, there is someone!?” she asks excitedly, leaning forward in her seat, the prompt cards magically forgotten.
The video behind us fades out to show another image of us walking down the street with my arm around her. It was a busy area, so it’s not a surprise someone saw us.
Yeah, we were in public, but I didn’t think we were going to be followed that closely. I’m just a hockey player, for fuck’s sake.
Luckily, the photo was taken when I was hugging Ollie, so I got away with it again. It definitely looks like we’re kissing.
There’s no time to catch myself. I sigh, running my hand through my hair.
“Hm, okay, maybe I’ll admit that I’ve scent matched with someone, but I won’t say anything more than that.”
Gasps ring through the crowd, and I inwardly cringe. Telling Ollie about this is not going to be a highlight of the year. But I need to get in there first in case people find her, or worse, she’s watching it live.
“And how does Timber Holtz feel about it all?”
“What?” I tilt my head, my brow furrowing. “What does Timber have to do with any of this?”
Her expression changes to something wicked as the screen behind her fades out, and a new picture is thrown up.
I shoot up from the couch, my heart plummeting as shock bursts through my body.
Right there, right on the screen, is a picture of the moment I pulled Timber to my lips while Ollie stayed sandwiched between us at the restaurant.
“Oh, fuck.”
Bile rises in my throat, staring at the image with wide eyes as I remember we’re live.
“Sorry! This interview is over!” My manager comes hurtling out from the wings and grabs my arm. I’m numb as she pulls me away while people shout questions, wondering how the hell they got pictures of us back then, and why they held onto them for so long.
All I hear is her hiss, “Get our lawyer on the phone,” to her assistant, before the shouting crowd takes over.
Phones rise, flashing photos and videos of the kiss, and me staring straight ahead with a blank face, trying to pretend it’s okay when, really, I know my mates are going to kill me.