Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Kyle
The door slams behind us, rattling the frame, and for a second, it sounds like an ending. Cooper’s office has always felt too neat. Every pen lined up, every file squared away. It’s the kind of room that makes you feel like a mistake just for breathing wrong.
He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands behind his desk with his arms crossed, watching me with that look that used to mean, What were you thinking, kid, but now means, How bad is this going to get?
I can feel my pulse thudding in my ears; the adrenaline hasn’t left my system yet.
It’s still tearing through me, sharp and unsettled.
And underneath it is the image of Alycia in that press room.
Her face when I walked back in, the fear in her eyes, the anger, and the hurt I put there.
It hits harder than anything Cooper could throw at me.
Beau takes his place against the far wall, quiet and unreadable, the way he gets when things are about to go sideways.
Cole spins the chair in front of the desk once and drops into it backward, acting casual, but I can feel him waiting to see if I’m about to implode or hold the line.
I stay standing because sitting feels impossible.
My whole body is buzzing like there’s electricity under my skin and nowhere safe to put it.
Cooper finally exhales. It’s not a sigh, but a warning. “Do you have any idea what kind of PR nightmare you just handed me?”
I can still hear the reporter’s smug laugh and see Alycia’s face pale when I snapped.
You don’t get to talk about her like that.
I could sit here and say I regret doing it, or that nothing will happen again, but that’s a lie.
I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But now, I sit here in my coach and big brother’s office, defiance burning alongside panic that knows she’s the one who’ll pay for my temper.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his stare. “I was defending her.”
“You were losing control,” he says, voice low but sharp enough to cut. “On live television, Kyle. With the cameras still rolling. Every major network has the clip already. You gave the media a story they can twist twelve different ways, and guess who has to clean that up?”
I will survive a bad headline. I’m built for noise and judgment; I’ve been skating through it since I left home for college and the spotlight hit me before I knew how to handle it.
Alycia is different. She’s still building her name, still fighting for her seat at the table.
One rumor, one photo, one careless word, and people will tear her apart before they even learn how to say her last name.
The thought makes my stomach twist. She trusted me for one second, and I might have just wrecked everything she has worked for.
I can see the story already. Rookie Defenseman Linked to PR Intern After Explosive Press Conference.
They’ll turn her into the villain, paint her as some ambitious girl who slept her way into relevance.
Same old bullshit dressed up as commentary.
Just the idea of that makes something inside me go cold.
Not anger this time, but something more protective and territorial.
An instinct that makes me want to stand between her and the rest of the world.
“Then I’ll clean it up,” I say, raking a hand through my hair.
He looks at me like I just said the dumbest thing he has heard all week. “You cannot fix something like this with a few apologies. You painted a target on both your backs.”
He’s right, but I can’t let it end there. I can’t let him talk about her as if she’s a problem to be managed. Not when she’s the only part of this whole mess that ever made sense.
“I was defending her,” I say again, quieter this time. It sounds pathetic even to me.
“And now she’s in the crossfire. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before playing the hero on live television.”
My hands curl into fists. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it easier to hear. I wasn’t thinking about optics or fallout or how the clip would look on replay. I was thinking about her and how small she looked when that guy laughed.
The memory hits like a body check. Her voice steadying when she shut down the question.
Her shoulders stiff, chin up, eyes dimming in that way I have seen on rookies right before they get run into the boards.
Anger burned through my chest so fast it wiped away everything else.
All I could think was, no one humiliates her while I am standing there.
Not after everything she probably had to endure in this industry to be taken seriously.
Not when she’s the only one who has ever looked at me like I am more than a Hendrix headline.
The worst part is, I’d do it again, even knowing this is where it leads or if it costs me everything.
Because when she looked at me in that split second, eyes full of hurt and fury, something in me snapped.
And the part that scares me most is that I didn’t shout at that reporter for her job or her reputation.
I did it because the thought of anyone making her feel small felt unbearable.
That’s what Cooper doesn’t get. This wasn’t about me losing control. It was about the fact that I couldn’t stand back while she bled in front of everyone and pretended it didn’t hurt me just as badly.
“So, what you’re saying, Coop, is the kid made it official in front of a national audience?” Cole shifts in the chair beside me, cutting through the silence.
The corner of Cooper’s jaw twitches. “Cole, not now.”
“What? I’m trying to help.” Cole leans forward, elbows on his knees, the picture of casual mischief. “It’s already out there. The tension. The looks. The clip has a million views already, so why not give them what they want? We make it into a love story.”
“You’re out of your mind.” I snap my head toward him.
It comes out rougher than I mean, edged with panic. Cole just grins that lazy, infuriating grin that says he knows more than he lets on.
“Maybe,” he continues. “But it’s not the worst idea I’ve had. The fans already think you are into her. The press will, too. You spin it right, you both come out as the league’s new power couple.”
Cooper groans. “Cole, for once in your life, shut the fuck up.”
“Hey, I’m serious.” Cole gestures between us. “They’ll stop calling it a scandal if they think it’s love. We release a statement and make sure it sounds romantic. They met before your retirement game, sparks flew, and now he’s back in Portland. It’s perfect PR.”
Beau finally speaks, quiet but certain. “You’re talking about faking a relationship.”
Cole shrugs. “I’m talking about survival.”
A bitter laugh catches in my throat. “You think pretending fixes this? Playing house for the cameras makes it better?”
“Better than watching her career go up in flames, yeah.”
The word flames punches right through me. He doesn’t understand that nothing about this is pretend for me. It never was. I drag a hand over my face, jaw locked so tight it aches. The idea of faking something that already feels too real turns my stomach.
“This is insane,” I mutter, voice cracking on the last word.
“What is really insane,” Cole says, leaning back, “is thinking you can protect her by doing nothing. You want to keep her safe? Give the story somewhere to go. People can’t ruin what they think is already perfect.”
His words land heavier than I want to admit. My whole body rebels because faking it means pretending what I feel for her is not real. Pretending that last night was not the most honest I have been in years.
“You don’t get it,” I say.
Cole’s smirk softens slightly. “Maybe I do. You just don’t like the answer.”
The room goes quiet again, the air too thick to breathe. Cooper’s watching me like I’m one breath away from detonating, Beau’s silent but steady, and all I can think is that she’s probably out there right now, trying to figure out how to save herself from the mess I made.
Maybe Cole’s right. Maybe the only way to save her is to make it look like she’s already mine.
Cooper’s been silent through most of my and Cole’s conversation.
He’s still standing behind his desk with his arms crossed, jaw locked, with the look that has always made me feel like I’ve already disappointed him, even before I opened my mouth.
Finally, he exhales. “As much as I hate to admit it, Cole might be right.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.” He scrubs a hand over his mouth, choosing each word. “Right now, there are probably a dozen clips circulating that make it look like you’re either sleeping with your PR rep or are about to. We can’t control the narrative unless we give them one.”
The words hit like a puck to the ribs, but the idea of turning something that already feels too personal into a strategy makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
“See?” I can feel Cole’s grin without even looking at him. “For once, my bad idea isn’t actually bad.”
“Don’t make me regret agreeing,” Cooper mutters.
Beau shifts against the wall. “If we go this route, they’ll have to make it believable. People will dig. They’ll want photos, stories, and receipts.”
“We’ll stage a few things. Dinners. Smiles. Maybe a soft launch post. Nothing scandalous, just enough to make it look like they’ve been together awhile.”
“You mean Alycia.”
He shrugs like it's nothing. “She’s already on her way to becoming the face of the department. She knows what sells and what doesn’t. If anyone can make it look believable, it’s her.”
“You can’t drag her deeper into this. She’s already under enough heat because of me.” I stare at him, half horrified, half nauseated. “You’re talking about lying to the entire league.”