I don’t answer because I can still feel her in my chest, warm and heavy and impossible to shake. And pretending that’s not real will be the biggest lie of all. Every instinct I have is screaming to move, to push back, to do anything except sit here and agree to turn what I feel for her into a storyline to be consumed. I can still see the panic in her eyes, the way her fingers trembled on the clipboard before she forced them still. I put that look there, and now they want to call it strategy, something clean, when all I can feel is the mess I made.
I glance down at my hands, flexing them until my knuckles ache. “You really think this will work?”
“It has to,” Cole says, shrugging. “You fake a relationship, the story changes. You become a romantic headline instead of a scandal. People stop digging because they think they already know everything.”
It sounds so simple when he says it. This is just another play. As if faking it won’t tear me apart one press conference at a time.
“You’re asking me to lie to the entire league. To the fans. To her.”
Cole doesn’t flinch. “No. I’m asking you to keep her safe.”
There it is. The one thing I can’t argue with. Keeping her safe has already become the thing I can’tstop trying to do. My chest tightens with something that feels too much like surrender. I know he is right. I hate that he is right. I’ll have to sit there and smile while she builds the lie we both have to live inside.
I look at him, and the frustration spills out before I can stop it. “You really think I can sit there and pretend this is fake when it’s not?”
Cooper’s eyes narrow. “Then you’d better learn fast.”
Beau’s gaze flicks toward the door, then back to me. “Or at least act like you can.”
Then the door opens and Alycia steps in, careful and composed, like she already knows we’ve been talking about her. Watching her agree to something that’s supposed to protect us when every part of me already knows there’s nothing fake about the way I feel is the kind of thing that could break me if I’m not careful.
Chapter Fifteen
Alycia
The hallway outside Cooper’s office feels too long. Every step echoes in my chest as my feeble attempt at a resignation letter crinkles in my hand, because my fingers won’t stop shaking. I’ve rewritten it three times since the press conference ended. Each version is shorter than the last. It’s just three simple sentences. It’s easier to quit than to watch them decide for me.
I take a breath that does nothing to steady me and knock once before pushing the door open. They’re all there. Cooper is behind the desk, posture stiff and controlled. Beau stands by the wall, quiet and unreadable. Cole is lounging in a chair, his patented smirk already in place. And then there’s Kyle—sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes finding me the second I walk in, like he’s been waiting for me.
He looks wrecked in a way I’ve never seen him—haunted around the eyes, tense around the mouth, like he’s holding himself together with the last thread he’s got. And for a single, reckless heartbeat, I wish thiswasn’t happening in a room full of people. I wish it were just us. But that’s not our reality. Maybe it never was.
“Coach,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “You wanted to see me?”
Cooper gestures to the chair in front of him but sitting feels impossible. If I sit, I'll break. So, I stay standing. My body knows something my mind refuses to admit: This is the moment everything changes.
I’ve spent the past hour pretending I could hold it together, but I feel hollow. Shaken loose from my skin like I’m still standing in front of those cameras, smiling while the world decides what kind of woman I am. My hands shake, not enough for them to see, but I can feel it deep, like a tremor beneath the surface. I press my nails deep into my palm just to feel something solid. It hurts, but at least it’s real. I focus on breathing. In and out. Control what I can. That’s what I’ve always done. It’s what they have been paying me to do.Control the story. Control the reaction. Don’t let anyone see the cracks.I can almost feel the tears threatening behind my eyes, but they don’t get to win. Not here. Not in front of them.
I can still feel the echo of Kyle’s voice from earlier when he told off that reporter. The sound of it has burrowed under my skin and hasn’t left. It wraps around me, and I hate that a part of me felt safe even as everything fell apart. I thought writing my resignation letter would help me feel in control again, but all it did was remind me how powerless I am. I want to screamand tell them all I can fix this, that I don’t need saving. But the truth is, I’m terrified. Not of losing my job or of the headlines, but of losing him before I’ve ever really had him. And that might be the most unprofessional thing about me.
Cooper studies me for a long moment before he finally speaks. “We’ve got a situation.”
He doesn’t elaborate right away, just looks at me, and that’s somehow worse. The silence stretches until it feels like it’s pressing against my skin.
“I understand.”
“Clips of today’s press conference are everywhere by now.”
“I’ll issue a statement and take full responsibility.” I can feel my heart pounding in my throat.
“That won’t be enough.”
The words tilt the floor beneath me. I swallow hard, forcing my shoulders straight. “I can handle this, Coach. I’ve already drafted?—”
“Alycia.” My name in that tone freezes me. Not unkind, but final. “We’re past damage control.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. For a second, everything goes quiet, the weight of those words pressing against my ribs. I know what comes next. I’ve rehearsed it a hundred times in my head since the press conference:You’re being let go.We can’t risk the optics.It’s nothing personal.
I open my mouth to tell him I’ll make it easy. That my resignation letter is ready, but then Cole leans forward, and every muscle in my back goes tight. Thatgrin of his means nothing good. “We’re going to fix this, sweetheart.”
