“I’m fine,” Holly replied evenly. No one but Nate would hear the micro-note of exhaustion in those two words.
Sophie tilted her head. “Oh, speaking of fine? Cedars Oncology called. Something about confirming your income bracket for a payment plan adjustment?”
The words landed in the center of the room like a dropped glass. It was a miracle that Holly didn’t flinch, but Nate saw her fingers curl slightly at her sides. The fractional shift in her breathing.
“I’m handling it,” she said.
“I’m sure you are,” Sophie replied smoothly, having set her charge like a demotions expert.
The photographer raised his camera. “Okay, give me something intimate but unresolved!”
Nate stepped forward before he’d consciously decided to. “That’s enough.”
Sophie’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t discuss her private business in a rehearsal space,” he continued. His voice was calm in the way it got right before a serious hit. “If production has questions, you take them to her agent. Not here.”
The room went still in that way it does when power shifts and everyone pretends not to notice. A dozen pairs of eyes landed on him, and then slowly swiveled back to the Executive Producer.
Sophie’s smile thinned, but she didn’t lose it. “Careful,” she said lightly. “You’ve already flexed alotof muscle this season, Nate. The network has been very accommodating.”
The threat landed clean, echoing the message from Sully. Nateheld Sophie’s gaze anyway, straight up refusing to back down. “I’m aware.”
He could feel Holly staring at him, and he resisted the urge to reach for her. Instead he stepped closer. His shoulder brushing hers, close enough that she could lean if she needed to. Choice, not performance.
The photographer hesitated. “Uh… should I shoot?”
“Take the shot,” Sophie ordered crisply.
The flash went off.
Holly’s expression in that photo was rawer than she meant it to be, hurt flickering under discipline. Nate saw the aftermath and angled his body slightly toward hers, aligning with her more than acting like a shield.
A defenseman adjusting coverage. Quiet protection.
Sophie watched the shift, her gaze narrowed and calculating.
“Well,” she said lightly, “let’s hope thePlayer’s Associationappreciates loyalty as much as the audience does.”
For once, Nate didn’t bite back. He needed this narrative of redemption to clean him up enough to make him look like an asset again. And Sophie fucking knew it. He was breathing more deeply, using the rush of air in and out of his lungs to stop himself from losing his shit.
Holly’s hand brushed his forearm then, quick and almost accidental. A grounding touch that had the opposite effect and jolted him like a goddamn lightning bolt. His eyes found her face immediately. For one suspended second, she almost met his gaze. He saw her chin move before she readjusted herself,doubling down on her glare at Sophie, who was ignoring both of them.
The master manipulator was checking the photograph on the monitor after that shot, lips pressed together, before clapping her hands once as if the moment had gone exactly to plan.
“Good,” she said briskly. “We’ve got enough tension to sell the arc. Reset tomorrow. And Nate?Stay available.”
Sophie pivoted, already speaking to Kendall and Martin about lighting ratios as they swanned out of the door together. The room emptied quickly after that, cables coiled, softboxes lowered, the artificial heat of production cooling into something far more honest until silence settled in their wake.
Holly retreated a few paces, gaze locked on the mirror like she was reviewing game tape. For a second, Nate thought she might walk out. Swallow the moment whole and carry it alone the way she carried everything else.
Instead, she turned, her eyes still on the fucking floor.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said in a careful tone, as though testing if gratitude would cut her open if she held it too long.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I did.”
Her jaw flexed, just once.
