Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
"I didn't tell you because it wasn't relevant," he says finally.
"Not relevant? Sebastian, it changes the entire story!"
"Does it?" His blue eyes meet mine. "Would it have changed what we did? Our plan? The marriage?"
The question stops me. "Well, no. But—"
"It would have given Kyle exactly what he wanted—attention. Significance in my life." Sebastian runs a hand through his damp hair. "That's what bullies like Kyle crave more than anything. Recognition. Proof they matter. I mean, he ended up as a paparazzi for a reason. He likes hounding people to get a reaction, he exploits people and makes money off it."
I hadn't considered that angle.
"Besides," Sebastian continues, "I didn't want to be the bullied kid in your eyes. I wanted to be the man who chose you."
"Were you embarrassed?"
"Honestly, no. Kyle was nothing to me until he came after you. I wasn't going to elevate him by acknowledging our history. He could have called me names and whatever, and he wouldn't have gotten a rise out of me."
I study his face—the sharp angles so different from that boy's soft features. And here I thought he was always popular. "You knew he'd eventually reveal it himself, didn't you? That's why you were so chill."
A small smile touches his lips. "People like Kyle can't help themselves. They always overplay their hand. I've met so many like him, and you don't really need to do much. Just sit back and enjoy the show."
Understanding blooms, and with it, my chest expands. Sebastian didn't hide his history out of shame. He did it because he knew exactly how this would play out—Kyle exposing himself, destroying his own credibility in the process.
"You out-strategized him," I say, impressed despite my lingering concern.
"I learned to think three steps ahead in hockey." He takes my hand.
Later, I sit cross-legged on our bed, laptop balanced on my knees. Two more videos appeared this afternoon. In one, the worst yet, Kyle and his friends steal Sebastian's clothes during gym class, forcing him to wear just a tiny pair of shorts from the lost-and-found. Painfully tight and restrictive for his already thin frame.
The other shows Sebastian sitting alone in the cafeteria, day after day. Same spot. Same isolation. The video spans months, based on the changing seasons visible through the windows.
"Why watch those?" Sebastian appears in the doorway, hair damp from his shower.
"I need to understand."
"What's to understand? I was skinny, poor, and dyslexic. Perfect target." He sits beside me and closes the laptop gently. "That's not me anymore."
"But it shaped you."
He nods. "Into someone who protects people who can't protect themselves. This is why I hate bullies with a passion."
The pieces click together. His immediate reaction to Kyle's verbal attack on me. His reputation for fighting anyone who targets his teammates on the ice. His protective streak. Kyle could insult him all he wants, and Sebastian would shrug it off, but say one nasty word about me, and it's game over for him.
"You became everything that boy needed," I say softly.
"I became what I needed to be." He hooks a finger under my chin and lifts my face for a kiss. "And found exactly who I needed to find."
"I still wish you'd told me."
"Would you have seen me differently?"
"Maybe. At first."
"That's why." He strokes my cheek. "I wanted you to know me as I am now, not as I was then."
My phone chimes with another notification. I check it automatically.
"Three more hockey equipment companies want to re-up your endorsements. With significant increases."
He doesn't even glance at the phone. "Good."
"Don't you want to know the details?"
"Later." He takes the phone and sets it aside. "Right now, I'd rather focus on you."
"Kyle's career is over … if he had one to begin with," I say. "Every outlet that ran his story is publishing retractions. Your reputation is completely restored."
"I don't care about my reputation. I told you that already." He slides me closer to him. "I care about this. Us."
"The PR crisis is officially over. We could..." I hesitate. "We could start discussing what happens next. The original agreement."
"The divorce?" He shakes his head. "Not happening."
"I'm just saying, contractually—"
"Fuck the contract." His voice drops, sending shivers across my skin. "You're my wife. For real. If you want, we can get married again. No pretensions, no contracts, no PR stunts this time."
The conviction in his voice erases any lingering doubts. This isn't the marriage we planned—the strategic alliance, the temporary solution. This is something neither of us expected but both of us want.
"I love you, Sebastian."
"I know." He smiles, that rare genuine smile that transforms his face. "But I've loved you longer."
"This is not a competition."
"I'm sorry. Did you forget who you married? I'm competitive by nature."
"You know what, I take that back."
"Nope."
The word is barely out of his mouth before he captures mine with a kiss that makes my toes curl. Just like that, everything fades into the background, and all I see, hear, and feel is him. My husband.