The Game Changer: A Novel (27 page)

“It’s nice to have you home,” I whispered against his chest.

He huffed. “It’s nice to be home.”

“I love you, Jack.” I loved Jack more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life, but dating him was hard. I wanted to tell him about all the Internet sites and the things they posted, but he had enough to concentrate on during the season. So I stuffed my unhappiness deep inside, hoping to God it would stay there.

He ran his fingers through my hair as he leaned up to plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I love you, Kitten.”

Cassie

I
could rarely attend Jack’s afternoon home games because of work, so I was following a game online when my cell phone sang its Melissa ringtone. I reached for it, silencing it immediately. I answered it quietly, “What’s up, girl?”

“I know we said no more, but I have to tell you something.”

My chest tightened as I held my breath. “What?”

“Chrystle sold her story to a tabloid.”

My stomach dropped. “What story exactly?” I managed to ask through my shock.

“Oh, the one where you’re a home-wrecking whore who stole her husband after she lost their baby to a miscarriage.”

My head started to pound as the walls of the office spun around me. I clutched the phone tight against my cheek, willing the bile rising in my throat to subside.

“Cass, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“There’s more.”

“More?” I choked out, wondering what more there could possibly be.

“There are pictures online of their wedding. And pictures of you. And the article is filled with lies. People are eating it up, Cass.
Believing every word of that lying bitch’s story. The message boards online are blowing up calling you a home wrecker and the devil. It’s crazy!”

My body started to tremble with fury. I hated Chrystle so much for everything she’d done to come between me and Jack. And here I’d thought she was out of lives for good. “Why won’t she just go away?”

“’Cause she’s a money-hungry publicity whore. I’m going to fucking kill her. Straight up murder the bitch.”

I managed a chuckle through my rage-filled tears. “Me first.”

“Cassie, can I see you please?” Nora shouted across the bustling office floor.

“Meli, I have to go. My boss is calling me.” I tossed my phone into a drawer before my nervous legs walked me into Nora’s office. Her walls were covered with various magazine covers from over the years and pictures of Nora with celebrities and local politicians.

“Close the door and come sit,” she said, not looking up as I entered. I did as she requested, shaking as I collapsed into the overstuffed white leather chair. “Talk to me about this article that just came out.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked, my eyes instantly welling.

She leaned forward onto her elbows and looked directly at me. “How much of it is true?”

“I just found out about it, so I’m not quite sure what it says.”

“Was Jack married to this person?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“And she got pregnant.” I could tell she assumed those parts of the story were accurate.

“No. She lied to him. She told him she was pregnant, but she never was. The minute Jack found out, he left her.”

“So he didn’t leave her for you?”

“He was with me first.” I suddenly wanted to defend what Jack and I had in the past, before Chrystle came along and fucked it all up. “We were together when he met her.”

“So he cheated on you?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.”

“Did she know about you?” Nora eyed me, and I sensed that an idea was coursing through that brain of hers.

“She knew about me. She didn’t care. She said that she always wanted a baseball-playing husband, so that’s what she got.” Anger and embarrassment collided within me as I struggled to keep my emotions balanced.

“Do you want to address this article publicly? We could make a statement on your behalf, disputing all of this woman’s claims and accusations.” Nora folded her hands together and rested her chin on top. “Or we could run a counter article on you and Jack.”

I hadn’t even thought about defending myself. In the past months, I’d learned to keep quiet when it came to all the things people wrote about me. I was told standing up for myself would end up making me look worse, which I never understood, but I had to agree with because I didn’t know what else to do.

“If you fight back they’ll attack even harder,” Melissa’s mom had advised me at one point. “Don’t give them any more ammunition. People like that love getting a reaction out of you. So when they don’t get what they want, they eventually move on.” But they hadn’t moved on.

“Is that what you think I should do?” I asked Nora. “Make a statement? Won’t it make it worse?”

Her brow furrowed. “Possibly. Let me think on it for a couple days.”

“OK.”

“I worry about you. I don’t know how you put up with all of this crap. Being with this guy sure has its downfalls, doesn’t it? I hope he’s worth it.”

My lungs constricted as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. I wanted to choke, but couldn’t. I struggled to keep my composure as the tears spilled out. And just like that, I broke down. I couldn’t take it anymore. The bad press, the constant harassment, the online sites judging me every day. It had become too much weight to carry.

“Oh dear.” Nora pushed back from her desk and walked over to me. “I’m sorry. I just meant that it’s a lot to take.”

“I know. It’s not what you said; it’s how I feel,” I tried to explain through my sobs.

“Why don’t you take a few days off? Go clear your head. Hell, take a vacation or something. Get out of the city for a while.”

I wiped at my eyes and sniffled. “Maybe I’ll fly home. Are you sure that’s OK?”

“Absolutely. We’ll come up with a game plan when you get back.” She squeezed my shoulder before returning to her chair.

“Thank you, Nora.” I forced a smile before walking out of her office. I gathered my things, typed a quick out-of-office notification for my e-mail, and turned my computer off. I stopped at the lobby store, grabbing a copy of the tabloid as my legs wobbled. The wedding picture of Jack with Chrystle caused me sharp stabs of pain as I stared at it.

Mortified, I tucked the tabloid under my arm and walked outside. I couldn’t take the subway home, I’d never last surrounded by all those people, so I called the only person I could think of while I walked back into the lobby.

“Matteo, can you come get you from work and bring me home?” My voice was shaking as I practically begged.

“Of course. Are you OK, Cassie?”

“Yeah. I just need a ride home please.” He knew I was lying, but he didn’t press the issue.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Matteo arrived right on time, and I headed out of the lobby doors toward the car. He rushed out of the driver’s seat, concern written all over his face. He took me by the hand, opening the door for me and closing it softly. Once inside, I buckled myself in and waited for the inquisition that never came. If he had a million questions, he wasn’t asking any.

Matteo pulled the car up in front of my building as hordes of cameramen surrounded it. “Oh my God,” I said, the shock clearly written all over my face.

“Cassie, what’s going on?” Matteo asked.

The press realized it was me in the car, and it took less than two seconds for them to swarm the side I sat on, cameras flashing nonstop, practically blinding me, even in the daylight. “I got this,” Matteo said before exiting the car. I heard him demand they move as he opened my door and helped me out. I lowered my head upon exiting, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Reporters shouted questions while Matteo wrapped a protective arm around me and pushed through the crowd.

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“Did Jack leave her for you?”

“Were you having an affair with Jack while he was still married?”

“Do you think stress made her lose the baby?”

“Leave her alone!” he shouted, trying to get me into my building.

Once inside the building, the doorman blocked the reporters while Matteo shielded me from view and pressed the button on the elevator. He stayed by my side until it opened. “Thank you,” I said through watery eyes.

“Are you going to be OK? Are you sure you want to be alone right now?” He held the elevator door open with his hand.

“You have to go get Jack soon, right? I’ll be fine until he gets home. But I might need you to drive me somewhere later. I’ll call you if I do,” I said, knowing I was being cryptic.

“Whatever you need, I’ll be there for you,” he reassured me.

“Thanks again.” I swallowed before allowing the doors to close and block everything but my own reflection from view.

In the security of our apartment, I collapsed onto our bed, tucking my knees into my chest. I allowed my tears to spill out onto my pillow. I couldn’t believe this was happening again. I’d never experienced someone so vindictive and cruel, and I hadn’t even read the damn article yet.

I flashed back to being at Fullton, when reports started coming in about Jack getting married and how I was portrayed as the woman left behind. I thought I’d never experience pain and humiliation like that again, but this was far worse. Now that Jack played in the major leagues, everything was amplified. Our lives weren’t simply a local story anymore; they were national news. And this Chrystle story garnered everyone’s attention.

My stomach twisted and turned as I tried to block it all out, but failed. My cell phone rang, causing me to jump as I looked at the number flashing on the screen. I didn’t recognize it, but answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Is this Cassie Andrews?” a male voice asked on the other end of the line.

I hesitated. “It is.”

“I wanted to ask you a few questions about the article today for our website, OK?”

“No, it’s not OK. How’d you get this number? Don’t call again.”

Horrified, I ended the call as quickly as I could. I guess I should have been surprised it took them this long to track me down, but I was completely losing it. I didn’t want the press to have my phone number. I hated it enough that they knew where we lived.

I closed my eyes after putting my phone on silent, falling into the comfort of sleep. The sound of the door slamming woke me.

“Cass? Cassie? Where are you?” Jack’s voice was frantic as the sound of his footsteps beat against the wood flooring. I stayed silent, knowing that he’d eventually find me in here.

“Kitten. Are you OK?” He curled next to me in the bed, holding my shaking body in his arms. All I wanted to do was run.
Literally.
“Talk to me, Cass.”

“Are they still downstairs? The press?” I avoided looking at him.

“Yeah. They’re fucking vultures.”

I pushed off the bed and walked into the kitchen. I opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass. Filling it with water, I gulped the entire thing down. “How did you hear about the article?”

“The team’s publicist saw it and alerted me. He’s putting out an official statement on my behalf.”

“What is your statement?” I asked, placing the glass down on the cold granite countertop.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I started getting pissed, the heat rising in my belly.

“The team makes a statement, and I’m required to go along with it,” he told me, trying to make me feel better but failing miserably.

“What if you don’t agree with it? What if it’s a horrible, stupid statement? You’re just supposed to smile and nod your head?”

“That’s what happens, Kitten. They put out a statement that’s best for the team, and I’m supposed to agree with it. I have no say.”

I turned my back to him, storming into our bedroom. “That’s fucking ridiculous! This is your life we’re talking about! And my life. These are horrible lies about you and about me. We can’t just sit here and agree with some statement you didn’t even make.”

He followed right behind me. “What do you want to do? Make our own statement?”

I grabbed my running shoes from the closet. “I have to get the fuck out of here.” The heat spread quickly throughout my entire body as my temper flared beyond control.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“You’re not the only one with a temper, Jack. Just because I don’t go around putting my fist in people’s faces doesn’t mean I don’t lose my shit!”

“Running away isn’t really showing you have a temper. It just shows you have…” he paused, “legs.”

I laced up my gym shoes. “Just leave me alone.”

“See? Legs for running away instead of staying here and talking it out!” he yelled, his voice frustrated.

“I can’t think clearly when I’m around you. I need to be away from you.” His eyes. His face. They all distracted me from my internal thoughts.

I slammed the door and walked down the stairs to our gym, thankful it was empty. I turned on a treadmill before plugging into my iPod. The music of Imagine Dragons blasted in my ears as I started running faster and faster, all the frustration from the last few months pouring out in beads of sweat across my forehead. Wishing I could stomp out all the blog posts, newspaper articles, gossip columns, message board threads, and Chrystle from my memory with each step, I slammed my feet against the moving surface.

After an hour of running on pure adrenaline, nothing changed. I didn’t feel better, relieved, or calmed. The same pressures and hurt remained. I realized this was something I could no longer ignore.

I wasn’t happy.

The past four months had helped dissolve my strength into a puddle of self-doubt and misery. Being with Jack meant accepting all the other things that came with it, and I hated it. My head pounded as I walked back into our apartment. Ignoring Jack, I moved past him and into the shower. He tried to follow me, but I closed and locked the door. I took my time, hoping the hot water would wash away my doubts, but nothing helped. Afterward, I towel dried my hair before emerging with another towel wrapped around my body.

Jack sat on our bed, watching my every move as I quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top.