Not for me. Not for her either—I’d stake my career on it.
The noise behind us faded the farther we got from the field. Just the echo of our footsteps down the tunnel and the sharp rhythm of my heartbeat in my ears. Daphne’s hand was still wrapped in mine—warm, strong, steady—and I didn’t let go.
I couldn’t.
We turned the corner, the locker rooms ahead. She started to slow, and I finally found my voice.
“What was that?”
She glanced over, face unreadable, but I saw the flush on her neck. The tremor in her breath. “PR move,” she said with a shrug, like she was talking about a press release and not the fact that she’d kissed me like I was the last man on Earth.
I stopped walking.
Pulled her to a halt with me.
“Liar,” I said quietly.
My voice came out low. Rough. Not angry—just sure.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it. Just looked at me for a second too long, like she was daring me to push it further… or maybe hoping I would.
And hell, I wanted to.
But right now, I didn’t need her confession.
Because I’d already seen the truth. Felt it in her kiss. Heard it in her voice.
She could lie to herself all she wanted.
I wasn’t buying it.
Chapter 15
Daphne
My phone rang before I’d even finished my first cup of coffee. Cam’s name lit up the screen, and I already knew it wasn’t going to be anything good. Or at least, nothing peaceful.
“Morning,” I answered, voice still scratchy with sleep.
“Daph,” he said, chipper—too chipper. “Good Morning MLS wants you.”
I blinked, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Wants me for what?”
“Light segment,” he said, like that explained everything. “You know, rising female voices in the league, your pivot from operations to media, viral moments… stuff like that.”
I closed my eyes. “You mean the kiss.”
“It’s not about Kieren,” Cam said quickly.
I snorted. “It’s always about Kieren.”
There was a pause, and I could practically hear him weighing his next words like a tightrope walker over glass.
“Look,” he said finally, “this is a good thing. The clip’s everywhere, but your reactions? The way you handled the post-game interview? It’s PR gold. You look grounded. Like you know exactly what you’re doing while the boys melt down on camera.”
“Glad I could be the calm in the storm,” I muttered, taking a sip of my now-lukewarm coffee.
“I’m serious, Daphne. This is good for you. A chance to remind people you’re more than some sideline accessory. You’re sharp. You’re strategic. You’re the one holding the damn narrative together. And obviously, it's a good way to control the narrative."
