It’s as if my body needs to confirm what my mind already knows: there’s no ring there. No reminder of the nightmare I finally escaped. No offensive diamond from my ex. Just bare skin and the faint ache of what used to be, both with Cody and with a life I never should’ve let myself fall into after we parted ways.
Cody notices. Of course he does. My left hand is still in his grasp, and his eyes flicker downward, catching the absence of a ring and the change in my last name. His brows lift, a subtle but clear acknowledgment, and I know exactly what’s coming.
Clearing my throat, I pull my hand back from his grip, flexing and unflexing my fingers by my side like his touch burns and, in many ways, it does. Maybe not physically, but through the ache of a scorned, young heart. “Got married. Got divorced. Made up a new last name when I started my public relations business,” I explain, keeping my tone clipped and matter-of-fact. No need for him to make assumptions, and it’s better if I control the narrative anyway.
Cody had known the old Mae. The Mae who wore sundresses, ran barefoot through his family’s fields, and thought love could solve everything. I’m sure he isn’t surprised that the new Mae—this Mae—chose to leave her maiden name behind instead of clinging to it. My parents still parade it all over Texas like abadge of honor, a symbol of wealth and status I want nothing to do with anymore. And when they cut me off before I could complete my degree and pass the bar exam while being a mother to their only grandchild, I swore I’d never depend on them again.
“Why don’t we take a seat and discuss what you need assistance with?” I suggest briskly, gesturing toward the boardroom table. “That way I can determine if you’re a good fit forSterling Sports Public Relations.”
I lead the way, my heels clicking against the polished floor, and focus on the sound to drown out the memories threatening to surface. Memories of summers spent with Cody, of the green-eyed boy who could undo me with a single look. But I’m not that girl anymore, and I’m determined to stay in control. It’s strange how so many years can pass yet those memories remain burned in my memory.
I’m a master deflector, a skilled negotiator—qualities that have helped me climb my way to the top as a publicist for high-profile athletes. But the way my stomach twists after mentioning my divorce in Cody’s presence? That visceral reaction is throwing me completely off my game.
As we settle into our seats, I force myself to meet his gaze. He’s seated directly across from me, his broad shoulders filling the space, his familiar green eyes steady and impossible to ignore.
“Let’s start at the beginning, Cody,” I say, folding my hands on the table like a shield between us. “Have you worked with a PR firm or individual publicist before?”
"No," he replies simply.
"And why's that?"
"I didn’t see the need for it," he explains. "Scandals don’t follow me. I don’t spend my time with people who could get me into trouble."
"That’s what everyone in the public eye thinks—right up until they’re in the middle of a PR disaster, wishing they’d hadsomeone on their side to handle it," I say, my tone even but pointed.
Cody’s eyes narrow as he watches me, studying me like he’s peeling back the layers, trying to see the girl I used to be.
Too bad for him.She’s gone.
That Mae had been young, naïve, and too eager to please, bending until she nearly broke. But she’s dead and buried. In her place stands someone stronger, someone sharper, someone Elsie can look up to one day, I hope. I’ve worked hard to become this version of myself, and I’m not about to let his gaze—or my memories—unravel me.
Still, his stare does something to me. It’s not unwelcome, but it’s intense. And seeing him now, after the dream I had about him just days ago, makes it worse—like I somehow summoned him back into my life without realizing it.
“Look, Mae,” Cody says, his voice dropping lower, rougher, like a slow drawl meant to tug at my nerves. “I’m a straight shooter. I don’t drink. I work out every day. I don’t hit the clubs or parties. I don’t date models or groupies just to see my name in the news.”
His eyes flick to Dexter, who smirks as he holds up both hands in mock surrender. “More for me,” Dexter quips, earning a chuckle from Cody.
Cody’s gaze shifts back to me, steady and serious. “I didn’t think I needed a publicist. Scandals don’t follow me.”
Ah, yes. The golden-boy life of growing up in a supportive, loving family in a small town. The kind of life that insulates you from trouble, making you think you’re untouchable. He may not have grown up as wealthy as I did, but his path had always been cleared for him, too. He had options. And money. If he wanted to stay and work on his family’s massive ranch full of opportunity, he could have. Or he had the freedom to dream, explore, do something different with his parents’ support. He was privileged in his own way.
“Maybe not,” I say, my voice sharp but professional. “But signing with a label should’ve been the moment you hired one anyway. PR isn’t just about damage control; it’s about building and protecting your brand.”
He leans back slightly, his annoyance flashing in the subtle clench of his strong jawline, one that I recall licking before it had a beard. “I’m here now, asking for help. What should’ve happened doesn’t matter. This is the situation I’m in.”
Fair point. I’m being harder on him than I need to be, and I know it. The problem is, his presence is throwing me off balance, and it’s bleeding into my usual professionalism causing me to become defensive and unfocused.
I catch Dexter watching me out of the corner of my eye, a knowing look in his raised brows. Even he can tell I’m not acting like myself.
Exhaling softly, I force my attention back to Cody. “Fair enough,” I say, my voice softer this time. “I just want to make sure you understand the value of having representation—and whatSterling Sports PRcan bring to the table.”
I tap my tablet, pulling up a new client form, using the motion to ground myself and break the tension that’s between us simmering in the room.
“I understand the value now,” he says.
I nod my head. “Great. All right then. Let’s start with the basics. Walk me through the challenges or issues you’re facing right now that you think we can help address.”
For the first time since he walked in, Cody looks… nervous. His shoulders straighten, and his hand rakes through his hair, leaving it just slightly tousled. His eyes darken—not enough for anyone else to notice, maybe, but enough for me. And damn it, I wish I didn’t still recognize those subtle tells that he carries around.
