The room goes quiet again, the air too thick to breathe. Cooper’s watching me like I’m one breath away from detonating, Beau’s silent but steady, and all I can think is that she’s probably out there right now, trying to figure out how to save herself from the mess I made.
Maybe Cole’s right. Maybe the only way to save her is to make it look like she’s already mine. Cooper’s been silent through most of my and Cole’s conversation. He’s still standing behind his desk with his arms crossed, jaw locked, with the look that has always made me feel like I’ve already disappointed him, even before I opened my mouth.
Finally, he exhales. “As much as I hate to admit it, Cole might be right.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.” He scrubs a hand over his mouth, choosing each word. “Right now, there are probably a dozen clips circulating that make it look like you’re either sleeping with your PR rep or are about to. We can’t control the narrative unless we give them one.”
The words hit like a puck to the ribs, but the idea of turning something that already feels too personal into a strategy makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
“See?” I can feel Cole’s grin without even looking at him. “For once, my bad idea isn’t actually bad.”
“Don’t make me regret agreeing,” Cooper mutters.
Beau shifts against the wall. “If we go this route, they’ll have to make it believable. People will dig. They’ll want photos, stories, and receipts.”
“We’ll stage a few things. Dinners. Smiles. Maybe a soft launch post. Nothing scandalous, just enough to make it look like they’ve been together awhile.”
“You mean Alycia.”
He shrugs like it's nothing. “She’s already on her way to becoming the face of the department. She knows what sells and what doesn’t. If anyone can make it look believable, it’s her.”
“You can’t drag her deeper into this. She’s already under enough heat because of me.” I stare at him, half horrified, half nauseated. “You’re talking about lying to the entire league.”
“No, I’m talking about protecting someone whodoesn’t deserve to be dragged through the mud because of you.” Cole leans forward, his tone sharper now. “You think I don’t know how this is going to go? I’ve watched stories like this play out in the press in real time. It never ends well for anyone. If you don’t give the media something to focus on, they’ll keep tearing her apart. You want to protect her? Give her a script. Let her own the story.”
Across the room, Beau’s expression says what I already know. This isn’t just a bad clip; it’s a wildfire. Pretending I don’t feel something for her won’t put it out.
“Whatever this is between you two,” Cooper says quietly, “it needs to get figured out. We’re not doing another press conference like that. Either you get on the same page, or one of you is going to have to go.”
The silence that follows feels suffocating. For a second, I am sure he means me. That I’ll be the one packed off somewhere else, traded before the ink dries. Then I see the look in his eyes and know what he is really thinking. He’s thinking about her.
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, the words sharper than I mean.
“No,” Cooper agrees. “But she’s the easiest one to blame.”
The truth of it sits heavy in my chest. I stare at my brothers, trying to think over the noise in my head. Every part of me wants to shield her from all of this, but there’s no version of this story where she walks away without a bruise.
“We fake it,” Cole says, almost cheerful. “We lean in and make it look like a real relationship.”
Cooper’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t immediately shut it down. That’s how I know we’re in trouble. “If we go this route, we’ll need her to handle the rollout. She’ll decide what interviews go live, what language we use. It’s her department.”
“You’re actually asking her to sell this?” I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the pounding in my chest.
“No,” Cooper says. “I’m asking her to survive it.”
I drag my hand through my hair, trying to breathe around the knot in my throat. The idea of her sitting at her desk, writing an official PR statement about us, crafting captions about something that’s already tearing me in half, makes me sick. She’ll make it look perfect and smile while she does it, because that is the job. Every fake headline will drive the wedge deeper between what’s pretend and what feels like the only real thing I’ve had in months.
“It buys time,” Beau says quietly, his hand landing on my shoulder. “And it gives the media something else to chew on.”
And that’s when it hits me: This isn’t a plan. It’s triage, and they’re all trying to stop the bleeding. The thought of pretending with her, of holding her hand and smiling for cameras when everything between us already feels too dangerous, makes me dizzy.
“You’ll thank me later when your little PR fairy still has her job.” Cole smirks, breaking the silence. “So, shehandles the PR; you handle the swooning. It’s practically foolproof.”
“She’s not a fairy.”
“No, but she’s got you under a spell, anyway.”
