I played the part Nate demanded.
Friday morning, I stood beside him at a press event for the NHL's youth outreach program. Held his hand while reporters snapped photos. Smiled when he wrapped an arm around mywaist and pulled me close enough that I could smell his cologne — expensive, suffocating.
"How does it feel supporting Nate's career?" one reporter asked.
I wanted to laugh. Wanted to scream. Instead, I tilted my head and said exactly what Nate coached me to say.
"I'm proud of him. He's worked so hard for this."
Nate squeezed my hand. Too tight. A warning and a reward all at once.
The cameras loved it.
Saturday, I sat in the front row of his press conference. Nodded along while he talked about "resilience" and "overcoming adversity." About how his "support system" kept him grounded.
He looked right at me when he said it.
I smiled. Again.
Lie after lie after lie.
Sunday, we grabbed brunch at some trendy spot downtown. All windows and exposed brick and people who recognized him immediately. He ordered for me without asking. Eggs Benedict. I hated hollandaise.
"You're doing great," he said, cutting into his steak. "Keep this up and they'll forget you ever embarrassed yourself."
I stabbed a tomato. "Right."
"I mean it, B. You look good on my arm. Better than you did on the ice last season."
My fork clattered against the plate.
He leaned back. Smirked. "Relax. I'm kidding."
But he wasn't.
I excused myself to the bathroom. Locked the stall door and pressed my forehead against the cool metal. Counted to ten. Then twenty.
You can do this. Just a little longer.
Until what?
I didn't have an answer.
By the time I returned to the table, Nate was scrolling through his phone. Didn't even look up when I sat down.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah."
We left. He drove me back to campus. Kissed me at the curb — brief, performative, tasting like coffee and control.
"See you next week," he said. "Big interview with ESPN. Wear the blue dress."
I nodded. Watched him drive away.
Stood there until the cold seeped through my jacket and my fingers went numb.
Pretended I wasn't slowly drowning.
