Chapter 11 Mae
Present Day
"Mae... did you hear me?" Dexter repeats. "This is the friend I was telling you about, Cody Cameron."
As the haze of memories lift from my mind I come back to reality. I’m in a conference room, many years and hurt later, about to face the first person I ever gave my heart to.
My body moves on instinct, my right hand extending for a shake like it’s a reflex I didn’t think through. But then I remember—too late—that Cody’s left-handed. He reaches out with his left at the exact same moment, and we end up in an awkward almost-fist bump.
Heat flushes my cheeks as I fumble, quickly switching to my left hand, finally managing a proper handshake while trying to avoid making eye contact. “Hi, Mr. Cameron. I’m Mae Sterling, the owner of Sterling Sports Public Relations,” I say, my voice steady even though my stomach feels anything but.
“Sterling?” Cody repeats, a brow lifting as his hand closes around mine in a firm shake.
The moment he touches mine, it hits me—the roughness of his calloused palm, the warmth of his fingers.
They’re the same hands I remember so vividly, hands shaped by years of ranch work and rodeo grit.
The same hands that once mapped every inch of my body during that golden, fleeting summer that we fell in love.
The hands that memorized the curve of my hip like they belonged there and touched me in places no one else ever had.
His thumb used to trace circles against my skin as he whispered words that made me believe in forever and happy-ever-after’s.
Now those hands are polite, distant. A handshake instead of an intimate touch.
There’s curiosity behind his eyes at the change in my name, but I can hardly meet his gaze.
And yet, my fingers curl instinctively, my left thumb tucking under my pointer and middle fingers to brush against my ring finger—a subconscious habit I didn’t even realize I had until Sienna pointed it out after the divorce from Vance.
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 a badge 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 for Sterling 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 had someone 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, na?ve, 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 what Sterling Sports PR can 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.
"Do you mind if I talk to Ms. Sterling alone for a minute, Dexter?" he asks, turning to his friend with a meaningful look.
Dexter nods and stands. "I’ll go hang out in your new office, Mae. Let’s go get dinner at that seafood place you like when you’re done here."
“Sounds good,” I smile as he leaves and closes the door behind him quietly.
Once gone, Cody turns to me with a strange look across his face. "Are you two friendly?"
I offer a nonchalant shrug. "Dexter and I have known each other for years," trying to downplay our relationship, though Cody's scrutinizing gaze makes me feel as though he can see straight through what I’m holding back on saying.
Finally, Cody nods, apparently satisfied with my response, though the way he folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair feels a little too casual. Too comfortable, like he’s settling in for a long conversation I’m not sure I want to have.
“It’s amazing to see you, Mae,” he says, his voice softening just a fraction. “Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again after we parted ways, I always hoped that we would. You really didn’t know it was me you were meeting with today?”
I shake my head, keeping my expression neutral even as my chest tightens.
“I had no idea. Dexter never told me your name. He made the appointment under his own with my assistant to keep things discreet. Normally, we wouldn’t allow that, but as you can see, Dexter and I go back, and he gets away with a lot,” I explain.
Cody’s eyes narrow slightly at the mention of Dexter, and it’s impossible not to notice the tension that settles over him.
“Let me guess—he didn’t mention my name to you, either?” I ask, raising a brow.
“No,” Cody admits, his tone tinged with something I can’t quite place. “He just told me you were a good friend of his and someone who’s helped him out of more than a few jams. The name Sterling didn’t click, but now I see it’s… a name you came up with.”
The observation isn’t harsh, and it’s accurate, but the way he says it feels like there’s more he wants to know.
“Dexter mentioned you two met in college and played football together? I didn’t realize you were in the NFL.”
“Yeah,” he says with a small nod, his tone easy, like this is just another casual conversation.
“Briefly. I went to Michigan State on a football scholarship and got drafted by the Birds shortly after graduation. But on a weekend trip to Nashville, I got a little too drunk, ended up doing karaoke at some hole-in-the-wall bar, and caught the attention of a country music artist who happened to be there. I adlibbed a song, he liked what he heard, and asked me to write lyrics for him. Two years later, I signed with Nashville Cowboy Records. Dropped the NFL. Now I’ve got my first big U.S. tour coming up in a few months.”
He says it like it’s no big deal, like it’s just a logical progression of events, but I can’t help the flicker of admiration that rises in me.
Cody’s always had a gift with words. I remember him and his twin brother making up songs on the spot, guitars in hand, their harmonies filling the humid Texas nights.
“Impressive,” I say, keeping my tone measured even as memories of those younger, simpler days creep in. I make a mental note to look up his music later, curious to hear how his voice has evolved from the songs he used to sing that were just for me.
“What about you?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. “We lost track of each other after… you know.”
Lost track of each other? No, Cody, we were torn apart, and you were fine with it after that final summer we spent together the year we graduated.
My parents had been true to their word, sending me to San Angelo Highschool instead where I didn’t graduate as valedictorian much to their obvious disappointment.
And after graduation, Cody had stuck true to his.
We spent that last summer together working at the rodeo again and hooking up shamelessly ever night, only to fall apart when we both left separately for college.
I swallow hard, forcing the bitterness back down.
“What I said when I walked in just about covers it,” I say evenly.
“Met my ex-husband, Vance, as soon as I got to Texas State. Got pregnant accidentally. Married him when my parents insisted, and then he took off right after Elsie was born and we haven’t seen him since.
It’s just been me and her the last nine years. ”
Cody nods slowly, his eyes still locked on me, learning, studying, appreciating. I squirm in my chair, wishing he wouldn’t look at me like he knows me. Wishing I didn’t miss the way we used to be. Clearing my throat, I shift the conversation back to safer ground—business.
“So, Cody,” I say, tapping my pen against the edge of my tablet, “why don’t you tell me what brings you here today?”
Besides dragging up memories I thought I’d buried for good…