Nate stood in the center of it all, jacket slung over one shoulder, posture relaxed. He looked up when I appeared, that practiced smile sliding into place.
"There she is."
My stomach turned.
I kept walking. Slow. Measured. Every step deliberate because my legs wanted to run and my hands wanted to shake and neither was an option.
Not here. Not in front of cameras.
He met me halfway, hand sliding around my waist like it belonged there. Pulled me close enough that his breath ghosted against my ear.
The cameras started clicking.
"Smile," he murmured.
I didn't.
His grip tightened. Fingers pressing into my hip, just shy of painful. A warning.
We moved toward the doors together, his arm anchoring me against his side. The photographers stepped back to give us space, but their lenses stayed trained. Hungry.
Cold air hit my face when we stepped outside. Sharp and clean and nothing like the heat radiating off Nate's body.
More cameras. More voices calling his name, asking questions I couldn't process through the white noise building in my skull.
When did you two get back together?
Nate, over here?—
Billie, can we get a statement?
He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. Turned toward me. Hand still locked around my waist, holding me in place.
His eyes were dark. Cold. Nothing like the boy I'd once loved.
"Kiss me like you mean it," he said. Low enough that only I could hear. "Or I'll ruin him."
The air left my lungs.
Calder.
I saw it in Nate's face—the calculation, the threat, the absolute certainty that he could destroy everything with a single phone call. A single interview. One well-placed rumor about inappropriate conduct between a coach and his player.
He'd do it. I knew he would.
The cameras waited.
Nate's smile widened. Expectant.
My hands moved on autopilot. Slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. I rose on my toes, jaw tight, stomach churning.
And I kissed him.
Hard.
Like I meant it.
His mouth opened against mine, surprised, maybe, before he caught up and kissed back. Possessive. Claiming. One hand in my hair, the other splayed across my lower back, pulling me flush against him.
