Chapter 27

Van

When I pull the rental vehicle to the curb outside Dr. and Mrs. Fournier’s house, I’m relieved to see another rental car already there. I pull right up behind it, and a man I’ve never met before but whom I’ve spoken to on a few occasions over the last week gets out of his car.

Xander Cline walks up to my car door to wait as I exit the vehicle. I slide a glance toward the front porch, having no clue if Simone is even in there or not. Ideally, I’d have hopped a plane last night after the game, but when one wins a Stanley Cup, there are multitudes of photo ops and interviews that have to be done following. I wasn’t able to get out of the arena until long after the last flight had left the airport.

Sticking a hand out, Xander says, “Nice to finally meet you. Congrats on the Cup. Helluva series.”

“Thanks, man,” I say as I shake his hand and then close the door on the rental car. I lean back against it and cross my arms over my chest. I’m dying to see Simone, but I’ve got to get a few things straight with him first.

“She has no clue I’m here and she sure as shit might blow a gasket when I introduce you to her,” I tell Xander.

“No worries,” he says with a smile. “I get what you’re doing and why you’re doing it this way. Honestly, it was this angle on the story that induced me to fly out here from LA on such short notice.”

“I’d prefer you not ask Simone personal questions about our relationship, but I’m fair game on anything,” I tell him. He nods, because we’d been through this on the phone. “But Simone can handle herself, so I shouldn’t really be worried about it.”

“Then let’s do this,” Xander says, and I push off the car. My nerves are firing hard, but I’m ready to get back on track.

Xander and I walk up the sloped driveway from the road and then cut across to the front porch via a sidewalk. My hands are itching to grab her to me when she opens the door, but I know I have to maintain some measure of decorum since I’m doing this with Xander watching.

But fuck am I ready.

I knew when I came back to the hotel room later that day when the article came out I had made a terrible mistake. I knew this because Simone was gone. She had given me an ultimatum, I refused, and she left.

For as stubborn and determined as Simone is when she wants something, I knew without a doubt that when she drew a line in the sand, she wouldn’t cross it either.

This left me reeling. I’d been outed as the kid of a serial killer, I drove my girlfriend away in a selfish moment of stupidity, and I was playing in the Stanley Cup finals. What I really wanted was to hop a plane and go after Simone, but Etta was there to talk sense into me.

“Take things in order, Van,” she said calmly. “Stanley Cup game tomorrow. Worry about reporters after that. Simone will be in Raleigh when you get there day after tomorrow.”

So I took Etta’s advice, and it was good advice, except for the fact Simone was not in Raleigh when the team returned. No, I came home to the house completely empty of all of her belongings. A quick, somewhat frantic, call to Lucas had confirmed my worst fears.

Simone had moved back to Quebec quickly. Her message was clear. When I said “not fucking ever,” she took me at face value and moved on.

Etta was the recipient of many phone calls over the next few days. She’d had some minor contact with Simone but wasn’t divulging. Her advice to me was still the same. Get through the play-offs and then go after Simone. Etta assured me, “You’d be surprised at how far a simple apology can go.”

Yeah…it was going to take more than that. I’d fucked up big time by devaluing Simone. I pushed her away when she could have been my biggest supporter, and that was a slap in the face she was not likely to let go of.

I just missed her.

So fucking much, and going through the remainder of the play-offs without her in the crowd cheering for me sucked hairy balls. I tried to imagine she was watching on TV, and even though I’d been a douche, I imagined that she was still supporting me. It made me feel slightly better, but not much.

Throughout the following week while the series continued, I thought about Simone constantly. I also thought about hockey, knowing that my goal of a Cup win was within close reach.

What I did not do was think about Arco or the article that Vernicki released. I ignored all requests for interviews. I had my publicist deliver a standing “no comment” to anyone who reached out. I ignored reporters who waited for me outside the arena, and in game press conferences I ignored questions lobbed at me about Arco. My teammates stood strong and tall behind me, and the management issued an amazingly supportive statement on my behalf. It was all the validation I needed and never got when I was a kid. Not one fucking person in the organization thought badly of me or judged me based on my secret.

But with all that said, I knew I couldn’t just keep quiet. I knew that I would need to tell my side of the story and why I had become a different person. My fans deserved it. Those people who aren’t my fans but were titillated by the story deserved the truth as well. And hell…if Arco ever got access to a newspaper or magazine, he deserved to know how I felt about him too.

That’s where Xander comes into play. He’s the senior hockey reporter for Sports World magazine. He’s not a freelance hack like this Vernicki, who just capitalized on my tragedy. He agreed to sit down with me for an interview.

Well, with Simone and me for an interview.

She just doesn’t know that yet.

When I reach the porch, I trot up first, Xander coming to a stop just behind me. I give a sharp rap on the door and listen intently. I’m relieved when I hear soft footsteps coming through the house, and then the door is opening.

Simone stands there without a hint of surprise on her face. I’m guessing she looked through the peephole before opening the door, because no one knew I was coming here except me, Xander, Etta, and Lucas, and they all promised to keep it secret.

“What are you doing here?” she asks in what is actually a polite tone filled with a little awe over my appearance.

“You didn’t respond to my text yesterday,” I tell her.

And there it is…an eye roll. I fucking missed that.

“You’re not here because of that,” she says, not budging to open the door any further. Her eyes then slide to Xander. “And who is this?”

“Xander Cline,” he says as he pushes past me to put his hand out. She takes it tentatively as he explains, “I’m from Sports World magazine.”

Simone’s eyes come back to me, filled with complete bewilderment as she continues to shake Xander’s hand.

“He’s going to interview us.” I tell her. Her eyebrows rise. “About how we fell in love.”

Simone drops Xander’s hand like a hot potato so she can put her hands on her hips. She narrows her eyes and asks, “Are you fucking high, Van Turner?”

Xander snickers and I nudge him in the shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile. “She’s got a potty mouth. But feel free to put that in the article. I think it’s indicative of the intensity of our relationship.”

“Seriously, Van,” Simone snarls, and I look back to her innocently. “What the hell is going on?”

“Simone,” I say calmly. “I’m ready to give an interview to the press. I want to do it now. I want to do it here with you by my side. I don’t only want to talk about Arco. I want to talk about the woman who helped me realize that Arco has no power over me. I don’t want this story to be about how Arco fucked up my life; I want it to be about the way you unfucked it up, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” she murmurs almost dumbly, and I have a moment of pity for her. I’ve said some deep shit to her, standing on her porch in front of a perfect stranger, who is probably going to print every bit of this exchange.

“Simone,” I say softly, and I take her hand. “Let us in the house. Put some tea or coffee on. Let’s get comfortable and talk to Xander here about our side of the story.”

“Our side?” she repeats, and I can tell she’s in overload.

“Yes, silly,” I say with a crooked grin, and I use her discombobulation to push my way past her into the house. I wave Xander in behind me. Taking Simone by the shoulder, I spin her around toward what I see is the living room and I walk her in there. “There is no story just about me. It’s about us. About how you bullied your way into my life, and found out my secret, and then how we romantically fell for each other—”

“You kicked me out of your life,” she snaps at me, and then looks to Xander. “You can print that part. Van was a complete dick to me.”

“Simone completely seduced me,” I tell Xander, just like a kid trying to get one up on her. Xander is loving this and he’s got out a pad of paper, scribbling notes furiously.

“Van leaves his dirty underwear on the floor and it’s fucking gross,” she snaps with a raised finger pointed at me.

Xander snickers.

“Seriously?” I turn to Simone to ask her dryly. “You’re boiling our relationship down to dirty underwear?”

Simone makes a slight screeching noise in frustration and her eyes are flashing with anger. “We don’t have a relationship. You made that clear last week.”

“Well, we could have one if you’d get over your snit for two seconds so we can sit down and talk about this,” I point out calmly.

She gnashes her teeth at me and points to Xander. “Sit down with a reporter. A stranger. And hash this out between us?”

“Yup,” I say, but I’m seriously wondering how stupid this idea actually was now that I’m seeing her reaction. I thought she’d be charmed. I also thought she’d be proud of me for opening up so thoroughly.

“Simone,” Xander says as he holds his pen over his notebook. “Without thinking about it, when did you realize you were falling for Van?”

My head twists fast to catch Simone’s answer. I know I told Xander I’d prefer he not ask her direct questions, but I’m apparently failing and need the help. She blinks once but says, “When he pulled me out of a strip club I was dancing at. Wait…you can’t print that. My parents will die.”

“What about that made you fall for him?” Xander presses.

Simone grimaces and places her fingertips on her temples, where she rubs what I’m thinking is a pretty big headache by the look on her face. When her hand drops, she shrugs. “Um…I don’t know. I guess because he was jealous and I realized it was more than sex between us. Shit…no, wait…you can’t say that either.”

Before Xander can ask another question, Simone turns to me and I wince from the censure in her voice. “This may have been the dumbest idea you ever had.”

My heart flops over at the frustration in her voice. She sounds perilously close to tears, and I don’t want her crying over me ever again.

So I step into her, palms to her cheeks, and I bend so my nose is almost touching hers. “Fine. But will you please sit by my side while I let Xander interview me then? I want to tell my story, and I’d really love it with you sitting by my side.”

For a moment, Simone just stares at me with veiled eyes. I can’t read a damn thing. But to my immense relief, she finally nods and leads us over to the chairs. I sit down on the couch and pull her down right beside me. I resist the urge to wrap my arm around her.

Xander takes a chair adjacent to us and pulls out a recorder. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

I shake my head and Simone remains silent. He turns it on anyway, and then sits back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“Where should we start?” Xander asks me.

I look back to him without an ounce of fear, shame, embarrassment, or hesitation. “Start at the most important part. Ask me when I fell in love with Simone.”