Chapter 16: Center Ice

On Saturday night Dorota made me go to the game.

"If the man wants my rink, he can look at my face while he takes it," she said.

She put on her good coat.

We sat in the upper bowl at Harbor Arena, behind a family in matching jerseys.

We had two hot chocolates, and the lease notice was in my bag.

Nobody around us knew who I was.

Then a boy turned and whispered, and a woman said, "That's her," and a row of heads came around.

I put my chin up and watched the ice.

The Ironbacks came out for the pregame show in their white jerseys.

Brady skated to center ice with a cordless microphone.

He looked clean and rested.

He had shaved and he wore his captain's patch, and the crowd gave him a roar I had not expected.

My stomach dropped.

"Folks," Brady said. "Thank you. I want to say a few words about my family."

The jumbotron showed his face thirty feet wide.

"A lot of you have seen a video this week. I'm not going to pretend it wasn't hard."

He paused, and his eyes went wet on cue.

"The woman I loved was not herself on opening night. She's struggling."

He wiped one eye.

"Some of what you saw online was edited, and some of it, honestly, folks, was made by computers. The audio of Cassidy was fake."

The arena murmured.

Dorota's hand clamped around my wrist.

"He's telling them the memo is a deepfake," I said.

"I heard."

"I want everyone to know I forgive Hanna," Brady said. "And I'll say this, because the truth matters."

He let the pause run.

"The man who took advantage of her in her weakest week is a man I trusted for six years. Soren Lund has been involved with my fiancée since August."

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