Prologue–Amy
brEAKAWAY: A brEAKAWAY HAPPENS WHEN A PLAYER GETS PAST ALL DEFENDERS WITH THE PUCK AND SKATES ALONE TOWARD THE GOALIE.
“Ithought there was no way you could do something like this. But the more I stare at this picture; I know it’s you.”
A masculine shout is the only warning before my dorm room door is slammed open hard enough to knock the whiteboard attached to the back onto the floor.
I’m about to lose my shit on the person on the other side for being an inconsiderate ass when I realize the person deserving of my seething fury is my boyfriend, Brennan McCallister.
His cheeks are flushed, like he sprinted the entire way from the hockey arena—which is where he was supposed to be wrapping up practice. But his eyes? They’re like the ice he skates on—cold and rough.
My stomach churns. “Bren? What—“
“Don’t. Just, don’t say a word.” He storms into my room, making no effort to close the door behind him.
I’m paralyzed by the fury on his face as he approaches me. Carefully, I probe, “Did something happen?”
His laugh comes out slightly unhinged. “She asks if something happened.”
I step forward and reach out to touch his arm, but he rears back as if receiving my touch may be toxic.
Jaw clenched, he unlocks his phone before holding it out, far away from a body I’ve touched more times than I can recall in the last three years we’ve dated.
“You want to play games, Amy? Fine. Here. This happened. It’s everywhere!
” Taking another giant step backward, he holds his phone steady so I can see what’s on the screen.
I can feel the blood leave my face even as I stutter, “W-where d-did y-you g-get that?”
He sneers, “Everyone has it by now.”
“It isn’t m-me.”
He scoffs. “Oh, come on. You think I don’t know your body by now?”
My anger rises at my boyfriend’s presumptions. “You know me better than this!”
“I sure as hell thought I did!”
“You honestly believe I would take photos and put them on…what the hell is anyway?”
“That’s your defense? That you don’t know the website?” He whips the phone in his direction. “It’s you. I recognize the star on your shoulder, Amy. I was there when you got that tattoo. Do you think I don’t recognize my girlfriend’s body?” He flips the phone back around to me defiantly.
He’s right. It is my body, but there’s something off about the photo. He’s just not giving me enough time to study it to figure it out before he yanks the phone down. “I swear to you, Bren, I have never seen that photo before in my life.”
His voice cracks. “People are sharing it around.”
Fury cracks the ice. “Who? Tell me. Who is doing this? How—“
“The guys showed it to me in the locker room before practice. Then Coach called me in.”
Confusion makes my head pound even as my stomach churns at the idea of his teammates seeing “me” in such a way. “Even if it were me, why would your coach care?”
“Because I’m up for captain next season? Because pro scouts are coming to games and the last thing I need is to be the punchline for some attention-seeking thirst trap.”
His defamation of my character hits harder than the picture. “We’ve been together for three years, and you’re standing here telling me you believe I could do this?”
“And you’re standing here expecting me to believe that a near-naked picture of you magically made its way online—and half the student body has a hold of it—and you have no idea how it happened?”
“Yes!” I shout, fury and despair leeching into my voice. “Because it isn’t me, Bren!”
His eyes are full of disgust—whether at me or self-directed, I can’t tell. “Do you know how this makes me look?”
“I can’t believe you,” I whisper.
“You can’t believe me?” The disgust in his voice lodges next to my heart in a way I know I’ll never forget.
“You’re not worried about me; you’re worried about your precious reputation.
” Taking a deep breath, I try to explain it as if I were talking to the students in my internship—God.
I wonder if I’m even going to have that when this catastrophe is over.
“Someone put a picture of me online without my consent—“
“So you say,” he interrupts.
I grit my teeth before continuing. “It’s obvious you don’t believe me after knowing me—loving me—for all these years.”
“It affects my image. I can’t let anything or anyone affect my chance at making it to the pros.”
Anger whips through my fear and hurt. “But it’s okay for someone to have illegally put a sexual picture of me online. Without my consent? Violated me? You don’t even care if I’m okay?”
“I…I just…” He shoves his phone in his pocket with one hand and runs his fingers through his hair with the other. “I don’t have time to deal with this kind of mess, Amy.”
“A mess.” My laugh is hollow even to my own ears. “So, that’s all I am to you?”
His stillness says more than any words ever could.
I storm over to the door and point my finger at the opening. “Get. Out.”
“Amy, I just…”
“Get out. Right now.”
“I’m…sorry. I can’t risk anyone thinking I’m associated with someone who would do something like this.”
In the seconds before he makes his way to the door, I recall him bringing me home to his parents. Vacation trips we took together. Slow kisses, hot nights. Plans after graduation, where we had discussed moving to the city that drafted him.
Gathering myself together, I ensure my voice is colder than an empty ice rink when I return, “And I refuse to be with an idiot whose only plan is to skate through life without using his brain. It’s obvious yours is used only for plays and gossip. Get out of my life. Right. Now.”
He hesitates for barely half a second before turning and storming out without a word.
I slam the door behind him. I don’t know how long I stand there—minutes? Hours? It feels like days before I recognize my phone buzzing in my pocket, pulling me back into reality. I pull it out with trepidation.
My soul weeps with relief when I realize it’s my best friends texting furiously.
Maya:
Please tell me you’re in your room.
Christin:
We’re on our way.
Emery:
Answer the door or we’re breaking it down.
Hands shaking, I type back:
Me:
Don’t worry. Someone else did before you.
With the Herculean effort that takes, I sink to the floor in a sobbing heap, unable to believe the boy I gave all my firsts to—my first date, first kiss, first...I can’t go there.
Not now. Maybe never.
Less than two minutes later, I’m shaken from my pain when there’s pounding on the door. “Amy!” Emery shouts. “Don’t make me break down this door! You know I can!”
I give serious consideration to ignoring my friends and remaining in my looming pit of despair. In the time it took me to answer them, I’ve received no fewer than seven messages from “friends.” Each one is questioning me about the choice I made to upload that photo.
I reach over from my place on the floor and twist the knob.
They barge in like they’re a herd of cattle. Maya takes one look at me, crumpled on the floor, and drops her bag, uncaring that her precious camera drops to the floor inside of it. “What did he do?”
I open my mouth, but I can’t form words. Instead, tears just pour from my eyes, and the salty liquid trails onto my lips.
Christin lets loose a string of vicious curses. “I’m going to break every hockey stick he has.”
Emery crouches down next to me, wrapping me in her arms even as she grimly says, “Only if I get to help after I find out what really is going on.”
I don’t say a word. I just hold out my phone. Christin lets out a gasp, her hand slapping against her mouth. “There’s no way this is you.”
My tears clog my throat. “At least someone believes me.”
Maya crouches down. “You mean Bren didn’t?”
I whip my head back and forth. “I mean, I think there’s something wrong with it.”
Even as the words come out of my mouth, Emery’s lifting the phone from my hand. “You’re right.”
A full-body sigh causes me to relax into Emery. “It means so much that you believe me…”
She cuts me off with a slice of her hand. “I’d have believed you regardless if you’d shown me the photo or not. That’s just who you are.”
Tears well up in my inflamed eyes. Emery goes on, “But this is something else.”
“What?” Maya asks.
“That’s her body, but not a picture she took.”
“What?” we all shout, leaning forward—me closer than the others as my eyes are so swollen, I need to get closer to see what Emery’s trying to point out.
“Look. The lighting is off. Notice the mirror? Get a load of the custom tiles. Also, look at what she’s wearing. When did she last have that on?” Emery urges us to think.
It strikes me, even as I lean forward away from Emery’s arms. “The Delta Phi house Halloween bash.”
Maya reels back. “Holy shit. When someone spilled Jungle Juice all over your toga.”
My stomach flips as I recall the girls leading me into the bathroom, trying to fix the damage before they stripped me out of my toga entirely and redressed me in the lower half of Maya’s longer outfit. A cold, sick feeling spreads under my skin.
Someone had a hidden camera behind that mirror.
Someone at Delta Phi took that photo and uploaded it online. Without my knowledge or consent.
Collectively, we go silent except for our breaths as we think of the ramifications. Finally, Christin asks, “Okay, who has a grudge against you from Delta Phi?”
Chills race along my skin as I think of the one person who would do that to me, someone who had been wanting to break up me and Bren since they first found out we were together.
“Brielle Winters.”
“Delta Phi’s recruiting chair?” Emery confirms.
“Every time we’d been to the sorority’s house, she had always been too handsy with my guy—well, he was my guy,” I mutter.
All of my girls sneer in disgust at my response. Maya studies the image and declares, “I want to have the image studied by my department head. I’m certain he can confirm the photo was taken without consent.”
Christin nods. “And I want to go to the dean. This is against the student body rules.”
“Not to mention campus security. This bitch is not getting away with this,” Emery adds. “Then, we’ll go to Bren and…”
I lift my hand. “No.”
They all gape at me before “What?” and “Why not?” are bellowed in my direction. I nod at Maya. “I’m not telling Bren regardless of what you find out.”
“Why wouldn’t you…” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Because if he wouldn’t believe me on my word alone after all these years, if he wouldn’t trust me, then he doesn’t get to know the truth when we find out the facts.” My voice is devoid of emotion.
Christin takes a deep breath, like she’s about to say something, when I go on. “He cared more about his reputation, his career, than me. That’s it. We find out the truth so it doesn’t impact my future, but I owe him nothing.”
Emery squeezes my fingers. “Then we’ll find out the truth, and we’ll help you move on. Okay?”
I nod.
Somehow, someway, I’ll do just that.
One day.