I sat up groggily and padded to the bathroom. I’d slept in my clothes and a full face of makeup, so I ran a bath while I cleaned up. I made a cup of tea and grabbed my phone before heading back to the bathroom and getting in the tub.
I needed to decompress in a big way. I was pissed at Lars. Going out with him had been a huge risk for me, and once again, he’d just left. What if I’d needed something in the middle of the night? Not that I was his responsibility, but it was the principle of it. What kind of guy just gave the woman he was dating strong medication and then left her without a word?
That’s not fair.
The voice in my subconscious reminded me that Lars probably didn’t even know what kind of accident I’d had or how badly I’d been hurt. How the doctors had told Vanessa I might never walk again. How hard I’d worked and the tears we’d cried when I’d taken those first steps. The information was out there, but my gut told me Lars wasn’t the kind of guy who’d go online to find out things about me.
But I was still disappointed in him.
I liked him so much. I’d never met anyone who made me feel safe, feminine, and sexy. I was a model, so there were lots of men who thought I was beautiful, but that was different. This was a guy who actually knew me, who’d touched me and made love to me and carried me out of a restaurant. Even now that I was aggravated, the memory of him picking me up like it was nothing made me smile.
I sank into the water, which I’d filled with Epsom salts and a special blend of essential oils, and sighed. I needed to call Lydia, my physical therapist, and see if she could squeeze me in.
The sight that greeted me as I opened my phone made me do a double take. Why did I have dozens of texts, calls, and notifications? My heart skipped a beat as I opened the text app and saw Vanessa’s messages first.
Vanessa: Have you seen the news? Are you okay? If I don’t hear from you by 10:00 this morning, I’m coming over!
Vanessa: Girlfriend, please respond!
Vanessa: You’re starting to scare me!
I quickly called her because Vanessa would call out the Marines if she got worried and that was the last thing I needed.
“What happened?!” she demanded as she answered.
“I had a back spasm and took my muscle relaxers,” I said, mystified at her tone. “What’s going on?”
“Have you been online?”
“No. I just got up and saw your four hundred texts.”
“You might want to steel yourself.”
“Why?” My heart started to pound uncomfortably.
“The picture of Lars carrying you through the restaurant is everywhere. Social media is on fire talking about Sheridan Lee and her hunky new hockey-playing boyfriend.”
I groaned. “Fuck.”
“Has he called?”
“Who, Lars?”
“No, you know who.”
I swallowed. “I don’t know. I have a million texts and calls. I called you back first.”
“He’s going to be pissed.”
“He doesn’t own me! I’m free to do whatever I want, whether he likes it or not.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I know!” I hissed. “Okay? I know. Dammit.” Tears threatened, and I squeezed my eyes shut to head them off. I wouldn’t cry. Not over him. Not ever again.
“You should probably warn Lars.”
“He’s probably at practice, but I need to look at these messages and see how much damage control I might need to do.”
“Look, at the end of the day, a guy carried you out of a restaurant. There’s nothing nefarious about it. The whole world knows you broke your back just over a year ago.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what you-know-who is going to focus on.”
“You want me to get the PR department involved?”
“No. Let me just get a handle on things first. Thanks for checking on me.”
“Always, girlfriend. I will always check on you.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and opened my texts.
Sure enough, there were texts from friends, business associates, even a few journalists I knew, wanting the scoop.
Were Lars and I a couple?
How long had we been dating?
Had I really bid ten thousand dollars to spend the night with him?
This sucked.
There was one message that made me smile, though.
Hadley and I had exchanged numbers and her text wasn’t filled with anything but concern.
Hadley: Hey, I saw that Lars carried you out of a restaurant last night. Hope you’re okay. Call me when you get a chance.
I found the pictures on Instagram and grimaced. There was no mistaking Lars. There were full frontal photos of his face and though my face was mostly buried in his shoulder, someone had recognized me.
Lars probably wasn’t happy about this turn of events, but after the way he’d left me last night, I wasn’t going to reach out. If we were going to keep seeing each other—and I had no idea if we were—he’d have to get used to this.