Heart of Stone

Chapter Thirty-Two: Caught Out

My stomach clenched, hurt curdling with horror. The bastard had played me after all. I'd considered it at numerous points throughout the trip, but he'd had me so fooled that I'd assumed I was just projecting my own guilt onto him.

Eyes stinging, I rested a hand against my abdomen to calm the churning nausea as I thought back to the phone call with Lacey in Amsterdam—a conversation imprinted in my memory thanks to the article I'd written about it.

You jealous or something?

There's nothing going on... We're just friends.

Has he been keeping you occupied?

I'd interpreted the one-sided conversation as friendly banter. Had I read it wrong? Had he deliberately chosen his words carefully to reassure his girlfriend while ensuring I wouldn't suspect anything romantic between them? And dropping in TJ? A joke to her, no doubt. Maybe he'd teased her about TJ like she'd teased him about me.

Or maybe she really was seeing TJ. Maybe they had the kind of relationship where they fucked other people when apart.

Unable to look at the photo any longer, I closed down the page and re-read Sammie's email, trying to detect any passive-aggression in there. Although hard to tell, she couldn't have been impressed that her source on the inside had failed to provide something as concrete as this image.

As I curled myself into the foetal position in bed, hugging my legs to my chest, I once again wished I'd never agreed to this stupid plan.

*

I couldn't sleep. Tormented thoughts ran through my head, kicking up anger and hurt. To make it worse, I knew I had no right to pity myself when I'd been keeping a secret for most of the trip, too. I was no better than him. I deserved it.

Except perhaps I didn't. Not completely, anyway. I could have done so much more damage. I could have destroyed him. But instead, I'd toed the line of fiction and speculation. I'd protected him.

I wished I hadn't.

As soon as the thought registered, I sat up in bed and flicked on my bedside lamp. Teddy Stone was just as relevant now as he was last week. The media attention around him hadn't stopped once we'd landed in London—if anything, it would blow up even more thanks to his public kiss with Lacey.

So why should I stop? Who did I need to protect? I had no loyalties left—only myself to look out for.

Those articles I'd typed up earlier didn't need to exist as purely a cathartic exercise. The undeniable photo of the kiss made some of my insight redundant, but if I'd toed the line of fiction and speculation so far, why couldn't I continue to?

I grabbed my laptop, yanking open the lid. Unlike what I'd submitted previously, this time I didn't hold back. And this time, I wasn't doing it for Becca—I was doing it for me.