King of My Heart (Games of Love #2)

Prologue

brEAKAWAY: LONE ATTACKER VS GOALIE

“Ican’t believe you would do something like this.”

A masculine shout is the only warning before my dorm room door is slammed open hard enough to send the whiteboard attached to the back crashing to 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 harsh.

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 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 plus years we’ve dated.

“You want to play games, Amy? Fine. Here. This happened. It’s everywhere!

” He holds his phone steady so I can view what’s on the screen.

I feel the blood drain from my face even as I stutter, “W-where d-did y-you g-get that?”

He sneers, “Everyone has it by now, but Mark’s the one who showed me.”

“Mark? Bren, it isn’t m-me.”

“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 photo of myself 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 constellation 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 toward me defiantly.

He’s right. It is my body, but there’s something off about the photo. He doesn’t give me enough time to study it 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 that had been invading my veins. “Who? Tell me. Who is doing this? How—”

“Mark showed it to me in the locker room before practice. Then Coach called me in because he was concerned.”

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, which it’s not, why would your coach care?”

“Optics. 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 over three years, and you’re standing here telling me you believe I could do this?”

“You’re standing here expecting me to believe that a near-naked picture of you magically made its way online—plus 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 that’s what you’re worried about,” 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 elementary students in my upcoming 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. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“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…”

“Get out. Right now.”

“I’m…sorry. I can’t risk anyone in the NHL 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 meeting his parents via FaceTime. Vacations we took together. Slow kisses, hot nights. Plans after graduation, where we had discussed moving to whatever city 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 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:

Hey, are you ready to grab lunch?

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 small conversation 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 takes 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 sits 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 is really going on.”

I don’t say a word. I take a few minutes to find a text where someone has sent me a screenshot of the photo before holding out my phone to show them the picture Brennan never truly let me see.

Christin crouches down to get a better look.

She lets out a gasp, her hand slapping against her mouth.

“There’s no way you did something like this. ”

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. There’s a collective hiss from my friends. “I mean, I know I didn’t do it.”

Even as the words come out of my mouth, Christin’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 not who you are.”

Tears well up in my inflamed eyes. Christin 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 Christin’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?” Christin urges us to think.

It strikes me suddenly. “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, Emery 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 me and Bren up since they first found out we were together.

“Brielle Winters.”

“Delta Phi’s recruiting chair?” Christin confirms.

“Every time we’d been to the sorority’s house, she had always been too handsy with my guy—well, he who was my guy.”

All of my girls react in varying forms of 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.”

Emery 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,” Christin 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.

Emery 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.”

Christin 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.