“Thanks,” she replied.
As the door clicked shut, I checked that theIn Meetingsign was still up. Mel sat stiff in the chair, her shoulders drawn tightlike she was holding back the whole world. Not thinking twice, I stood and pulled her into me. She froze for half a beat, then melted against my chest, her forehead resting on my collarbone. The way she let go in my arms was nothing like the calm she carried in front of everyone else—this was raw, fragile, her body softening completely against me.
I held her there, breathing her in, giving her something solid to lean on.
“I’m sorry you had to get hit with this crap first thing,” I murmured, reluctant to let go.
She lifted her head to look at me. “You don’t need to apologize, none of this is your doing. It’s just… who you are.”
That dry edge in her voice, the one she used when everything was one breath away from cracking, settled between us.
“Still. I hate that this might make you rethink the job, the team, everything.”
Mel exhaled. “I like my job; I don’t regret getting it. But taking a picture with you that close…”
My mouth curved. “You never hate it when I’m this close.”
She gave me a sideways glance. “No, but now there’s a rethink button flashing.”
That worried me. “Cutie, this is hitting you very hard. It’s hitting me very hard too, and that damn picture is already out there.”
“I know…”
I tightened my arms around her. “Can we let it sit and talk about it later?”
That earned me a small smile, and I relaxed.
Eventually, we eased apart, both of us reluctant to break the hold.
“I didn’t think I’d care this much,” Mel said. “We knew there’d be talk eventually. But seeing that headline…”
I entwined her fingers with mine. “It crossed a line. Hell, dragging in my ex for visibility, it pisses me off.”
Mel thought for a moment.
“I feel like wearing a giant foam puck to hide from all the glances.”
“Whatever comes, in mascots’ wardrobes or what have you, we’ll face it together.”
She exhaled again slowly.
“I’m looking forward to hanging out with you after work,” I said.
She locked eyes with me. I held her gaze steady to make sure she got the message. I wanted to see her tonight.
We left the conference room, and out of nowhere, I found myself bracing for someone to call out to us and mention that headline. Hell. Subconscious trauma, loud and clear. I glanced at Mel. She looked tense too, more so than she had minutes ago when we were alone behind closed doors. I wanted to pull her in again, to remind her she wasn’t alone in this. Later. Tonight.
We split at the elevator, Mel heading to her department, me down to the rink. Practice still needed running. Playoffs were on the line, and every second counted, but this PR mess had shifted the day in a way neither of us was ready for. Everyone out there would now know we were together. That, I’d wanted. Just not like this.
Chapter twenty-one
Mel
Walking into my department felt like stepping into a courtroom where I was both the surprise witness and the rumor exhibit, but no one had called my name yet.
The few people I passed greeted me the same way they did last week:How was the drive? Are you on call for rink logistics this week?My impending public humiliation must still be loading.
Sean’s ex had “moved up the ladder,” the article said. Yes, she’d cheated on him—called it a fling, like that excused it—but I’d never thought ill of her beyond that. Still, those people knew how to twist the knife, didn’t they? Flash the CEO title, frameher as the winner, make Sean look like the small-time coach in comparison, and, by extension, make me look even smaller.
