The Hockey Star’s Impossible Request
1249 Words
Brair
The first time I heard about Norman Jacques’ scandal, I was standing in line at a small coffee shop near my university, trying to review my legal notes before my afternoon lecture.
At first, I barely paid attention.
Celebrities were always involved in something. A new rumor, another headline, stories people would discuss for a few days before moving on to something else.
But this one did not disappear. His name appeared everywhere.
Norman Jacques. The man who had suddenly become the center of a cheating scandal that threatened his entire career.
The first video I saw was playing on the television mounted above the coffee shop counter. Several people were watching it while they waited for their drinks.
“He really did that?” a woman beside me asked.
Her friend shook her head. “I don’t understand how someone can throw everything away like that.” I had looked up when I heard his name.
The screen showed a short clip of Norman leaving a hotel with a woman. The video had been replayed so many times that I already knew the details before the reporter finished explaining them.
The woman claimed they had been involved for monthsand the media called him a liar. His fans were angry, sponsors distanced themselves and everyone seemed to have already decided he was guilty.
At the time, I did not feel sympathy for him.
I had my own problems. And Norman Jacques’ problems belonged to a completely different world. At least that was what I told myself.
But then I kept seeing the story. On the bus ride home, in my phone while waiting between classes and the computers at the library.
Everywhere I looked, there was another article, another opinion, some other person discussing his downfall.Most people were openly cruel with their opinions.
“He deserves everything that is coming to him.”
“People like him think they can do whatever they want.”
Others were not as certain. “Something about this feels strange.”
“I don’t know. The timing seems suspicious.”
The more videos I watched, the more uncomfortable I became.
That night, after Poppy went to sleep, I sat on the couch with my books open in front of me and tried to focus on my notes, but my thoughts kept returning to the case.
The sudden ring from my phone got my attention. I looked down at the unknown number displayed on the screen. For a moment, I simply stared at it.
I had stopped answering unfamiliar numbers whenever possible. Too many strangers had contacted me because of the custody battle, and most conversations only left me more exhausted. After a few seconds of hesitation, I picked up.
“Hello?”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then a familiar voice spoke.
“Briar.”
My expression changed immediately.
“Desmond?”
“Yes.”
I sat up straighter. “How did you get my number?”
“I have access to public records.”
“That does not answer my question.”
His voice remained calm. “I wanted to follow up on our conversation.”
I let out a tired breath from my lips.
“No.”
I did not allow him to continue. “I already told you that I’m not interested.”
“Briar—”
“No. Whatever this is, I am not going to marry a stranger because someone decided my situation makes me an easy target.”
The line became quiet. Then Desmond spoke again. “The offer is not about targeting you.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds exactly like that.”
“You need legal help.”
My fingers tightened around my phone. “I know what I need.”
“And Poppy needs stability.”
The moment he mentioned her name, my entire body became tense. My jaw tightened. “Do not use her to convince me.”
“I’m not using her.”
His voice lowered. “The offer still stands. I am also increasing the amount. Think about your daughter.”
The call ended shortly afterward. But his words remained with me. I hated that those words affected me and that he knew exactly where my weakness was.
Poppy.
That night, I remained sitting on the couch long after the call ended. I was lost in my thoughts when I suddenly felt a small hand touch my arm.
“Aunt Briar?”
I looked down to see Poppy standing beside me, with her blanket held tightly. “What happened?”
She climbed into my lap without waiting for an answer.Her small body relaxed against me as she rested her head against my shoulder. For several moments, neither of us spoke. Then her quiet voice broke the silence.
“Aunt…”
My heart immediately tightened.
“Yes, baby?”
Her fingers held onto my shirt. “Am I going to live with the other grandma and grandpa now?”
Everything inside me froze at that very moment. My hands stopped moving and I looked down at her face.Those familiar eyes stared back at me with fear and uncertainty.
Even though she had been very young when Ivy passed away, she still carried pieces of her. The same dark hair, and bright eyes. Sometimes, looking at her felt like seeing a small piece of the sister I had lost.
My throat tightened.
“Oh, Poppy.”
I pulled her closer.
“No, baby.”
My voice shook as I spoke. That night, after Poppy finally fell asleep, I sat at the kitchen table with Desmond’s number saved in my phone.
For hours, I stared at the screen. Every part of me hated the idea. It felt wrong. But losing Poppy felt worse. The next morning, I finally made the call.
He answered immediately.
“Briar?”
My voice was quiet.
“One meeting.” I said.
There was a short pause.
“Okay.”
“That’s all. One meeting. It does not mean I’m agreeing to anything.” I ended the call before I could change my mind.
Later that afternoon, when I entered the restaurant, my heartbeat was faster than I wanted it to be. A waiter approached me politely. “Good afternoon. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. Briar Shaw.”
He checked the list in front of him. “Mr. Jacques is already waiting. Please follow me.”
The restaurant was quiet and elegant. The guests around me spoke in low voices, and the atmosphere felt far removed from my ordinary life.
I followed the waiter through the dining area until we reached a private table near the window. Then I saw him.
Norman Jacques.
The man waiting for me looked nothing like the arrogant playboy described in the headlines. He looked tired.
His hair was slightly messy, and his face showed signs that he had not been sleeping properly. He wore a dark suit, but there was nothing confident or careless about him. He looked like someone carrying a burden he could not escape.
The moment I stopped beside the table, he immediately stood. For a moment, neither of us spoke. We simply looked at each other, trying to understand the person standing across from us.
Then his voice broke the silence. “You’re not what I expected either.”
I sat down slowly.
“That makes two of us.”
- Writer
