Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Kyle
The words land, soft but final, like the closing of a door I didn’t realize I’d been standing in.
“It is now.” Alycia turns before I can answer, shoulders squared like she’s walking into war.
She doesn’t spare me another glance, just that steady, practiced calm she wears, and it guts me.
Every step she takes feels like a thread snapping tight in my chest. I want to call out and stop her, to say something that will make her stay, but my throat locks up.
Because I know if I open my mouth, I’ll make it worse.
So, I stand there and do nothing while she walks away.
Her heels click against the tile, sharp and even, fading until they’re just echoes in the kind of silence that eats you alive. The sound follows me, crawls under my skin, until all I can hear is the rhythm of her walking away from whatever this could have been between us.
She looks like the picture of calm in the middle of chaos, but I know how hard she’s fighting to stay that way.
She looks unshakable, untouchable, but I’ve seen her tremble.
And watching her pretend she doesn’t feel anything makes me want to break something.
Not the situation or Cooper’s rules, but the distance she’s putting between us to protect something that is already bleeding out.
By the time she disappears around the corner, my chest feels too small for everything inside it.
Anger, want, regret, all twisted into one raw ache that has nowhere to go.
I drag in a breath that tastes like adrenaline and something I do not want to name.
My pulse hammers behind my ribs, every beat screaming at me to do something, but there’s nothing left to do that won’t wreck both of us.
“She’s tougher than she looks.” Cole exhales beside me.
“That’s not the point.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
For all his sarcasm, Cole gets it in a way no one else can. He has lived with the fallout of bad decisions that brand you for life. He knows the difference between loving someone and ruining them.
“I can’t let her take the hit for this,” I say, my voice lower than I mean for it to be. “I started it. I should’ve—”
“Shut your mouth?” he cuts in, but there’s no bite to it, just weary affection. “Kid, you did what any Hendrix would’ve done. You saw someone disrespect her, and you handled it.”
“Yeah, and now she’s paying for it.”
Cole leans against the wall, arms crossed. “She’s protecting you. You’re protecting her. Sounds about right.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.” His tone softens, which is rare for him. “Look, this fake dating thing isn’t a punishment. It buys you both time. Time for Coop to calm down and the media to move on. Time for you to figure out if what you’re feeling is worth burning it all down for.”
“I already know it is.” My jaw tightens as I stare at the floor.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I figured.”
He goes quiet for a moment, the air between us heavy with understanding that doesn’t need words. When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer. “You know, when I met Michele, it wasn’t that different.”
“What do you mean?”
“She worked for the team,” he says simply.
“And she hated that she felt anything for me. Thought it’d ruin her career, make her look weak or desperate.
I spent months proving her wrong. Not with grand gestures or promises, but by showing up.
Being the same guy when the lights were off as I was when the cameras were on. Earning her trust.”
“Yeah, because nothing says ‘trust me’ like getting caught making out in the equipment room.” I snort before I can stop myself.
“Wasn’t caught. Just… overheard.”
“Jesus Christ, stop talking.” I drag a hand down my face, shaking my head. “I do not need mental images of my best friend and my brother defiling each other.”
“You asked.” He laughs, the sound low and rough.
“I really didn’t.”
The humor breaks the tension, just for a breath. Then, Beau’s voice rumbles quietly from behind us. “You two done traumatizing each other, or should I come back in five?”
We both turn and find him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed.
“Jesus, when did you even get here?” I mutter.
“Right around the time Cole started giving life advice,” Beau says, one brow raised. “Had to stick around. It’s not every day I get to hear that kind of hypocrisy in action.”
“Hey, at least I learned something.” Cole barks out a laugh before turning back to me.
“My point is that Michele didn’t trust me right away.
I had to earn that every damn day. You want Alycia that bad, you fight for her.
Not with words or stupid, reckless shit.
You fight by showing her you’re steady. That she can trust you not to make her pay for wanting you. ”
Something tightens in my chest, part admiration, part envy. “And that worked?”
“Eventually. But don’t get it twisted. It damn near broke me before it got better. Love doesn’t fix the fallout; it just makes it worth surviving.”
Beau tilts his head, voice low and even. “And that’s your subtle way of saying ‘don’t screw it up,’ right?”
“What can I say? I’m evolving.” Cole shrugs.
“Into what, exactly?” Beau asks.
“A cautionary tale.”
That actually makes me laugh, a short, broken sound I didn’t know I needed. For a few seconds, the air feels lighter, like maybe everything isn’t about to collapse.
“I don’t know if she’ll ever let me close enough to prove it.” I let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling somewhere deep.
“Then you find another way. If this fake dating crap is the only play you’ve got, make it count. Play the long game.”
Beau nods. “Long game’s all we’ve ever had, kid.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit, landing somewhere between advice and absolution.
Cole isn’t just talking about Michele anymore.
He’s talking about me. The part of me that still feels like the kid desperate to be seen.
Not as Cooper’s little brother, not as the next Hendrix to live up to the name, but as someone who is finally good enough to stay.
Beau pushes off the wall and straightens. “Enough with the heart-to-hearts. All of this will still be here in the morning.”
“Hear that? He’s got the dad voice now.” Cole glances over with a grin.
Beau rolls his eyes. “Someone’s gotta keep you two in line.”
“Good luck with that,” I mutter, the corner of my mouth twitching.
They leave, but I don’t move. My feet feel rooted, heavy with everything I can’t say. Beau pauses by the door, giving me that steady look that’s half sympathy, half warning.
“Don’t make it worse, kid,” he mumbles.
The word kid shouldn’t still sting, but it does. Because that is what they see when they look at me. Cooper’s little brother. Another Hendrix with something to prove. And now I’ve proven exactly what they were worried about: that I can’t keep my emotions off the ice or out of the press room.
The door shuts behind them, leaving me alone with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint smell of coffee gone cold.
I pull in a breath that doesn’t quite make it to my lungs.
She said this is business and that it meant nothing.
But the way she looked at me said something else entirely.
The tremor in her voice, the fists she made at her sides.
I know she is lying. Maybe not to me, but to herself.
That kiss wasn’t business. The way she shakes when I am close isn’t business. It never will be.
I lean back against the wall, tilting my head up until it thuds against the drywall.
My chest aches with everything I can’t fix or fight.
If pretending is the only way to keep her, then fine.
I’ll play along, but behind every headline and photo op, I’ll be counting down the minutes until I get to be alone with her again.
Until I can prove that none of this is fake, least of all the way I feel.
She thinks this is survival, but what she doesn’t realize is that she’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart. So, fine. I’ll play the long game, because she’s worth every second.