Chapter 4
SADIE
Have you ever fallen off the edge of a single bed?
I don’t recommend it. Zero stars.
With a groan, I heave myself up from the carpeted floor of my tiny bedroom and push back the mess of red hair from my face.
Blinking sleepily, my vision becomes more clear and I instantly wish it wouldn’t.
Because seeing the piles and piles of boxes that surround me just reminds me of how much my life freaking sucks right now.
When I discovered Dirk and his paralegal in bed, very much naked, I had no choice but to move out.
It was his apartment, and I had sold most of my furniture before I moved in with him.
After two weeks at my parents’ house, I needed to get out.
But the Vancouver rental market is awful at the best of times.
Which is how I ended up in a sketchy but furnished one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of downtown. Close enough to commute to work, but definitely not a great neighbourhood.
And a far cry from the high-rise apartment Dirk and I lived in for six months before everything went sideways.
Dragging my feet, I make my way into the tiny kitchen, intent on making some coffee.
My phone is charging on the counter, and after the coffee maker is turned on, I pick it up to scroll the news headlines.
Only, instead of a mindless scroll, I end up choking on the sip of water I’ve taken when I see the virtual flood of messages waiting for me.
Texts from people I haven’t spoken to in months, years even. Dozens of them. Scrolling through, I see one from my sister and open that one.
SIENNA: OMFG YOU’RE DATING MAVERICK KING?! SADIEEEEEEEEEE! I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!
Except her message makes absolutely no sense to me. Other than that name… Didn’t Dirk call tattoo guy Maverick? Dread starts to pool in my stomach when I click a link to a gossip magazine she sent. The photo that uploads has me clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle my shriek.
It’s not a great photo, clearly taken on someone’s phone at the bar last night.
But it’s clear enough to see who’s in it.
Tattoo guy has his arm around me and is looking down at me with an expression on his face that I definitely don’t remember him having.
Instead of looking all mean and scary, he almost looks…
affectionate? I’m pretty sure it’s when he was giving Dirk shit, and pretending he was there with me, but dang, I didn’t realize he was that good of an actor.
My musings about the photo come to an abrupt halt when the headline steals my attention.
Tridents’ Third Baseman Maverick King Seen with Mystery Woman. Is the Bad Boy of Baseball Settling Down at Last?
“Oh my God.” Suddenly Dirk’s shock makes sense. He’s a huge Tridents fan and used to bug me nonstop to get free tickets from Willow. It felt so icky to me, I never asked. Guess that should’ve been a red flag that the rest of him was just as icky.
I scan the rest of the article which tells me nothing except that he’s some hotshot baseball player who’s infamous for getting into trouble off the field.
Then it talks about a recent car crash, and how he’s on the injured list and unable to play.
My hand comes up to my mouth again as I realize that’s why he winced last night.
I scan the text and see bruised ribs and fractured clavicle pop out at me.
Yeah, even with my limited medical knowledge simply gleaned from working in a hospital, I can imagine those would hurt.
As I’m reading, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. I answer without looking at the number, my mind still reeling.
“Sadie LeDuc? John Tucker with Vancouver Daily. Can we get a statement on your relationship with Maverick King?”
My mouth gapes open, then flies shut as I hit the end button on the call. This isn’t good. How on earth did they figure out who I am? Another call comes in from another unknown number. I hit decline, only for it to start ringing again. This time, it’s my best friend Ali.
I answer, but don’t even get a word out before she’s yelling in my ear.
“Holy shit, Sadie. Good job, girlfriend! I knew you had a secret wild side, but baseball’s bad boy? Damn, I’m impressed.”
“For goodness’ sake, don’t be so gullible, it’s all a misunderstanding!
” I shout into the phone. Ali falls silent, and all I hear is my own pulse pounding in my ear.
“It’s not real. None of it. Well, I mean, I did see him at a bar last night and he did put his arm around me, but that was just to get Dirk to shut up. ”
“Maverick King defended you in front of dirtbag Dirk?” Amusement laces her tone. “That’s honestly a better story than my bestie dating the hottest man in Vancouver and not telling me.”
I groan and flop down on my bed. “Ali, help me. What do I do? The press has already found me, my sister is sending me shouty all caps text messages, and it’s complete garbage.”
“Okay, breathe, Sadie.” Ali’s teacher voice kicks on. The voice she uses to wrangle twenty kindergarteners every single day. “This isn’t the end of the world. You’ve got a friend that works for his team, right? You can reach out to her, and I’m sure she’ll be able to help clear this all up.”
I’m already nodding, my breathing slowly settling. “You’re right. Yes. Of course. I’ll call Willow today. Thanks, Ali.”
“I gotchu, bestie. But can I just say, a little romp with Maverick King could be kinda fun!”
That pulls a small laugh from me, even as the idea of a little anything with that man makes me shiver. “You’re terrible. I better go, thanks for having my back.”
“Always.”
I hang up, only to have my phone immediately start ringing again, this time with an unlisted number.
“Oh my God, stop!” I groan, knowing it’s futile.
I decline the call and drop it on the counter.
Any calm I’d found talking to Ali is gone as I watch the screen continue to light up with a never-ending barrage of calls and messages.
I start to shake as I step back from the phone, staring at it in horror like it’s a ticking time bomb.
The tremble continues until I sink down to the floor, feeling beyond overwhelmed.
I didn’t think my life could get any more out of control after the Dirk mess. But this is beyond anything I could have imagined.
Somehow, I need to make it through my work day and get a hold of Willow. Ali’s right, she should be able to help me clear this all up. And then we can have a laugh about how the media actually thought for a hot minute that I, Sadie LeDuc, would be dating one of the Vancouver Tridents.
Oh, how naive I was to actually believe that making it through my work day would be the easy part.
After only an hour at work, I have to close — and lock — my office door to keep nosy coworkers out.
My cell phone is still blowing up with messages and phone calls to the point I think I need to figure out how to make my number unlisted.
No matter how hard I try to focus, it’s not happening.
My email inbox is filling up with messages from all kinds of people, some sharing more headlines and some asking if it’s all true.
I want so badly to respond with a resounding NO, but something is holding me back.
A futile hope that this Maverick King guy will fix everything, or maybe an even more futile hope that this is all just a horribly bad dream I’m going to wake up from.
But when the phone on my desk rings, I have to answer it, praying these awful reporters haven’t tracked down this number yet. Just another reason why we need call display on these antiquated phones.
“Hello, Sadie speaking,” I say, impressed with how I manage to keep my tone professional.
“Do you really expect me to believe Maverick King is dating you?” Dirk’s condescension comes through loud and clear, and I grip the phone tighter.
“Excuse me? My personal life is none of your damn business,” I hiss, grateful my office door is already closed. My eyes flutter closed as the sick feeling that took root in my stomach this morning grows. “Just leave me alone, Dirk.”
“Knock it off, Sadie,” he scoffs. “I don’t know what that was last night, but your stunt failed. You’re not dating him. There’s no way. Honestly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you to lie like that. So if you’re trying to make me jealous, just give up. It’s not going to work.”
For the second time today, my mouth falls open in disbelief as my eyes fly open.
“Are you… Are you serious? You think this is about me wanting to make you jealous?” My voice rises near the end, even as a wild desire to shove it to Dirk and lie, and say it absolutely is real, crosses my mind.
God, the look on his face would be priceless if he actually believed I moved on from him to one of his baseball idols.
But I can’t drag this out just to possibly get Dirk to leave me alone…
Can I? What would happen if I went to Maverick’s people and asked them…
No. It’s crazy. Dirk’s an ass, but he’s not wrong.
A guy like Maverick won’t want anything to do with me.
He’s probably already sent his statement refuting this madness to the press, meaning it’s only a matter of time before Dirk’s phoning me back to rub it in my face.
“Goodbye Dirk,” I say, hanging the phone up before I lose it completely.
What a flipping mess. The very fact that I entertained the idea of trying to get a professional athlete to pretend to be with me just to make my cheating ex-boyfriend go away is absurd and proof of how low I’ve sunk.
My hands reach out blindly, grabbing papers and shuffling them into a pile. Anything to try and bring some order into this mess. But it’s a lost cause.
Dropping my head to the desk with a groan, I give in to my personal pity party.
For someone who thrives on an organized, controlled life, I’ve never before felt so totally out of control.
My head is spinning, the room closing in on me.
There’s not enough oxygen in the air, and I start to gasp, desperate for a full breath.
Pressure in my chest builds and builds, and I force myself to stand, somehow knowing I need to move and snap out of this panic spiral.
As I pace closer to my office door, I can hear muffled voices outside.
Focusing in on them, I’m relieved to hear they’re not talking about me or the photo.
Words filter through about budgets and equipment requests from various departments.
Typical topics for the foundation office.
The pacing and focusing on the innocuous chatter outside helps calm my racing heart.
Not everyone is gossiping about me and this insanity about Maverick King, even if my cell phone’s call log and email inbox say otherwise.
Moving back to my desk, I sit down and perform a few breathing exercises. I just need to get through the next few hours. Then I can go home, take a long hot bath in the small but at least functional bathtub, and call Willow. I need to beg her to help me figure out a way to clear this all up.
My mind always feels better with a plan in place, so I turn my attention to the list of charitable donors I still need to reach out to for our upcoming gala.
The rest of my day passes with me ignoring phone calls and focusing on sending emails and letters to our donors. But as I push back from my computer, ready to go home and bring this insane day to a close, a knock on my door stops me.
“Come in,” I say, pulling on my cardigan over the sleeveless blouse I wore today. My boss, the chair of the foundation, steps in, a perturbed look on his face.
“Sadie, I realize the situation may be beyond your control, and far be it for me to participate in any interoffice gossip. But you need to know that hospital security has had to escort multiple members of the press off the hospital premises today, all of whom were trying to get to you.”
“What?” I gasp, sinking back down in my chair, any calm I’d managed to pull together gone in an instant. “I’m so sorry, Gus.”
His lined face softens to resemble the likable man he normally is.
“I’m guessing you and your” — he clears his throat — “friend didn’t anticipate this type of response to this morning’s news.
Perhaps you should start your weekend early, and consider working from home next week.
At least until the excitement dies down. ”
I nod robotically. Working from my crappy apartment? Sure. That’ll be fun… I suppress a shudder. But he’s got a point. The patients and families don’t need to be wading through a sea of ravenous reporters just to get here.
Gus shifts on his feet, and I know he has more he wants to say.
“Can I do anything else for you today, Gus?” I ask, hoping he says no and leaves me alone.
“Actually, it’s more a suggestion than anything. But perhaps you could ask your friend to lend his influence to the gala? Maybe a donation to the silent auction or some publicity to boost ticket sales?”
Part of me is stunned Gus is asking me this. It’s not much better than when dirtbag Dirk tried to get me to ask Willow for Tridents’ tickets. But he’s my boss, not my ex, so I can’t tell him no quite as easily.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say hoarsely. Thankfully, Gus seems to accept that answer.
“Right. Well. Take care getting out of here, and we’ll see you back in a few days when the excitement dies down.
” He moves to the door, and all I can think is that once he’s gone I can get out of here and give in to the tears that are trying to build behind my eyes.
Keep it together, Sadie, just until you’re home.
Then there’s another knock on my office door. Gus is closest, so he opens it. And when I look up to see who it is, I have to accept it’s going to be a while before I can go home and give in to the breakdown I desperately want to have.