Chapter 21
JADE
The hard tip of my pen digs a deep furrow into the thick paper of the notepad. I trace the looped lines of my own scribbles over and over while I wait for Cayden. My calf muscles burn stubbornly from those ten kilometers on the asphalt.
I run a hand through my damp hair. I tried to wash away not just the sweat from the run, but the scents of last night. It didn't work.
Every time I blink, I feel the weight of Cayden’s body on me.
The way his lips scorched my neck. My mind screams incessantly that my flight on the terrace this morning was the only right move.
I have to protect Parker. I have to maintain this fragile tower of lies, whatever the cost. But my body is in open revolt against reason.
Last night didn't feel like a slip-up. It felt like coming up for air after twelve years underwater and finally taking that first deep breath.
The faint click of the door handle jerks me from my thoughts, and Cayden enters the room.
He drops into the leather armchair opposite me, stretches out his long legs, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Ready?" he asks, nodding toward my pad.
"Page is already open," I reply. My voice sounds surprisingly steady. I click the pen, aiming the nib at the paper. "We’ve checked off the early pro years. The meteoric rise. The million-dollar contracts. Now we get to the part where the success curve takes a massive nose-dive."
Cayden crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't take his eyes off me. "Banff."
"Exactly. The national team training camp," I confirm, sliding my forefinger over my handwritten notes. "The affair with the head coach’s wife. That was the actual scandal that cost you everything."
His smug grin drives me insane. He leans deep into the soft leather, spreading his arms across the rests and giving an almost indifferent shrug.
"What can I tell you, Jade? Women just can't resist me. And if she knocks on my door in the middle of the night, I’m certainly not sending her back into the hallway just because her husband happens to write the training schedules for my team.
We had a good time. Him showing up was just bad luck. "
I press my lips together and pointedly record not a single word.
"You like to pose as the irresistible player who couldn't care less about consequences," I say, tapping the pen against the wood of the desk. "But the reality looked different. The coach caught you in bed with his wife at three in the morning."
The smirk vanishes instantly. He leans far forward, resting his elbows on his knees and locking his gaze on mine.
The mask crumbles. "Yes. He did. And he suspended me on the spot. He stood there in my hotel room and told me to my face he’d destroy my career if I ever opened my mouth about what really happened. "
"And the association's PR department fed the press a fabricated story instead," I pick up the thread. "They claimed you were out drinking at a downtown club the night before the game. Disciplinary proceedings for excessive partying and disrespect toward the team."
Cayden lets out a joyless, raspy laugh. He reaches for the silver letter opener on the table, spinning the metal restlessly between his fingers.
"A brilliant lie to save the coach’s face and keep the scandal small.
The media tore me apart. The young, cocky star putting wild parties over the Canadian national team.
I was branded an arrogant, party-mad idiot, and I wasn't allowed to defend myself with a single sentence, or the association would have banned me forever. "
He tosses the letter opener back onto the wood with a clatter.
"I liked the parties, Jade. I liked the women and the whole circus. I’ll never deny that.
But the moment I laced up my skates, there was nothing but the game.
I showed unbelievable discipline on the ice, at every single practice.
I would never have touched a drink the night before a game. My sport was sacred."
He swallows hard, his gaze getting lost for a heartbeat in the dense patterns of the Persian rug under his feet.
"I wasn't allowed to play the World Championship that year. That tournament... it was everything I’d worked for my whole life. When I sat in some cheap bar, glass in hand, watching the guys in national jerseys hit the ice... it literally broke my heart. Something broke inside me for good in that moment. I knew I’d never stand on that ice with the same pride again. "
A heavy, stifling silence settles over us.
I see the raw, unadulterated pain in his features.
I see the young man who lost his biggest dream because of one incredibly stupid decision.
A part of me wants to reach across the table, take his hand, and tell him I understand.
That we all make mistakes that haunt us for a lifetime, and that he’s not the only person lying awake at night cursing the past.
But then, the memory of that thin plastic strip with the two pink lines inevitably flashes before my inner eye.
The moldy bathroom in my old student apartment.
The tears, the burning loneliness, the panic about the future while I had to scrape together every cent for Parker’s diapers.
I hid from Hailey; I buried my dreams of a big journalism career while he was jumping through beds in Banff and producing scandals fueled by nothing but his own ego.
I paid the price for his recklessness, every single day for the last eleven years.
I grip my pen so hard the plastic creaks under the pressure of my fingers.
"Well," I say, my voice cutting through the library's silence like a razor. "Then I guess you know exactly what it feels like when hearts get broken because someone sleeps with the wrong people."
Cayden’s expression freezes instantly. The soft vulnerability vanishes, replaced by a fierce, smoldering rage that turns his blue eyes almost black. He shoves himself out of the chair with such force that the heavy piece of furniture makes a loud, scraping sound against the parquet.
"You know what?" he snaps, his hands balling into massive fists. "I’m laying my soul out on this table. I’m telling you things not even my own lawyer fully knows because I thought... because I idiotically thought last night actually meant something."
"Last night has nothing to do with this interview!" I counter, jumping up from my chair as well. My notepad slides off the table and hits the floor with a thud.
"Stop hiding behind this goddamn job!" he bellows. The volume makes the library windows vibrate. "You use every chance you get to drive the knife a little deeper into my back, just to protect yourself from what’s happening between us. You’ve been dodging me since you opened your eyes this morning. You’re a coward, Jade. "
"I’m a realist!" I shout back. My pulse hammers relentlessly against my carotid artery; hot blood rushes in my ears. "I’m looking at the facts, Cayden. We hurt people. You did it then, you did it in Banff, and you’ll do it again.
I won’t stand in that line and wait for you to leave nothing but wreckage again! "
"Screw you," he growls. The bitter contempt in his voice hits me like a physical blow. He takes a step toward the door, pauses, and throws me one last, devastating look. "I’m done for today."
He whirls around and storms toward the hall. He yanks open the massive wood of the door and slams it so hard behind him that a picture frame on the wall wobbles precariously and ends up hanging crooked.
I stand shaking in the large room. My breath comes in shallow, painful hitches. Hot tears burn in my eyes, but I force myself not to blink.