“Really? Because it looks like you were swerving all over town like a drunk driver.” He adjusts his reading glasses, squinting at the article. “Were you intoxicated?”
“No. There was—” I search for an explanation that doesn’t sound completely insane. “Something crawling on me.”
More likesomeonefrantically invading my personal space.
“Crawling?” he repeats, his crease deepening.
“It was extremely distracting.”
Scarlett sprawled across my lap tested the limits of my self-control in more ways than one. Not only did it impair my driving, but all I could think about were the zero degrees of separation between her and me.
When the cop ordered me out of the vehicle, Scarlett had shrieked with delight upon discovering her earring wedged exactly where she’d predicted—right where I was sitting. It was possibly the only part of the night that turned out well.
I was taken to the station for questioning, and by the time we finally made it to dinner, the lasagna was cold and her parents were worried. Scarlett quickly changed gears and told them the news about us dating, skipping the whole slow reveal we’d talked about in the car. She knew that being pulled over was the equivalent to blasting it around town with a megaphone. Our made-up dating history got a serious rewrite.
Her mom and dad were delighted at the news, but Eli made some sarcastic comment about “the happy couple,” and then disappeared out the front door. I can’t help but feel it’s somehow my fault. He deserves better than me crashing his family dinner and springing my new relationship on him. But until I talk to him about what happened years ago, we’ll never be able to be in the same room together. There’s too much unresolved history between us.
Rafael folds the newspaper with a sigh. “That’s not an excuse, Brendan. You made the entire organization look unprofessional. People are having a field day with this story. You’re the new assistant coach now. You need to start acting like it.”
“I agree.” I set my jaw and link my hands behind my back in classic military posture. The less I say right now, the better my chances of keeping my uncle happy. “It won’t happen again.”
“It had better not. And maybe you should think about improving your public image while you’re at it.”
“Excuse me?” I frown slightly.
“I don’t mean your driving skills. I mean your reputation in this community. You need to settle down at some point. That would help your reputation more than anything.”
Coming from a man who’s been married to his work since his divorce, that’s almost funny.
“I don’t understand.” Though I have a sinking feeling I’m about to.
He folds his hands on his desk. “You don’t participate in community events. You’re not involved in anything beyondhockey. Even your sister has a better reputation than you do, and she was in a coma for a month.”
The guilt I feel over Carmen’s accident wedges itself like a knife in my chest. Even after all these years, I still can’t talk about the night of her car accident. It was the same night I kissed Scarlett on the beach instead of driving my sister home, and because of that decision, I’ve always felt responsible. For years, I felt that if I’d been in her car when she veered across the center line while reading a text, I could’ve kept her from that head-on collision. It was simultaneously the best and worst night of my life.
“People know Carmen because of her accident,” I point out. “Near-death experiences tend to make you memorable.”
“True, but when people think of you, they still think of that kid who got busted for drinking on the beach in high school.”
I grit my teeth. “That was over a decade ago.” And I wasn’t even the one drinking, but apparently taking the fall for your friend’s stupid decisions follows you forever.
“You know what would help your image?” He points at the newspaper photo of me looking like a criminal. “Dating a nice, local girl. Someone like us. That’ll get you accepted into this community.”
“But I am accepted,” I protest. “I moved here four years ago.”
“You’re not one of them, Brendan. You didn’t grow up in this town. You only spent summers here. There’s a difference.”
I lift an eyebrow, realizing he hasn’t heard the news. “So, my mom didn’t mention anything to you?”
“Should she have?” He tosses the newspaper into the trash can. “And please tell me it’s better news than this disaster.”
“I think you’ll be pleased to hear that I’m bringing a date to Carmen’s wedding.”
“A date?” He looks cautiously interested. “Do I know her?”
“Her name’s Scarlett.”
“Scarlett?” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t remember her. But that’s great news. Now you just need to stick with one relationship until this story blows over.”