Chapter Twenty-Nine
Very, Very Wrong
Shane
Present
When the Sweet Dreams Gala rolled around, I thought I was prepared.
I was prepared to wrangle the team into dancing for charity donations.
I was prepared for our away game in Boston that we’d leave for the following day.
I was prepared to put up with Nathan, to grin and bear the whole event like I didn’t hate the prick.
I was especially prepared to keep a close eye on him, to continue watching him for clues as to what he was up to behind closed doors.
What I was not prepared for, it turned out, was seeing Ariana.
I’d been counting down to it. I hadn’t seen her since Thanksgiving, since she let me kiss her and then told me I was a liar.
It wasn’t for my lack of trying. I’d found my way into every Sweet Dreams meeting I could, even when I knew I wasn’t needed — but she was never there.
And when we had games, I looked for her in the suites, only to come up empty-handed.
She’d been staying home. She’d been avoiding me. At least, that was what I’d thought.
But one look at her tonight, and I knew there was something more at play.
She stood near the edge of the ballroom, light catching on her the way it always did, like the room had tilted subtly in her direction without anyone else noticing.
Her hair spilled down her back in long waves of golden blonde, framing alabaster skin that seemed almost luminous against the black of her dress.
It clung to her in all the right places, hugging the generous curve of her hips and the soft swell of her waist and chest. The fabric shimmered when she moved, fine glitter woven through it like starlight, and from her shoulders flowed a sheer draped train, part cape, part veil, trailing behind her like smoke.
She was absolutely breathtaking.
She was also, undoubtedly, not okay.
I knew it with one lingering look. I’d spotted her, my heart kicking back to life in my chest as I moved toward her, and then promptly stopped again.
In an instant, I saw through the makeup and dress.
Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes — not the way it used to, not the way it did when she was proud of something she’d built.
Those blue eyes were glassy, distant, as if she were looking through the room instead of at it.
Her posture was perfect, shoulders back, chin lifted, but it felt rehearsed — held together by willpower alone.
She shifted her weight where she stood next to Nathan, one heel sliding back, then forward again, like she was bracing herself for a blow no one else could see coming. One hand stayed curled at her side, fingers flexing and unclenching, betraying the tension she worked so hard to hide.
It didn’t make sense.
This gala was her heart on display. Sweet Dreams was her vision, her fight, her sleepless nights and relentless hope stitched into every detail — and yet she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, like she was counting the minutes until she could disappear, like the room was closing in on her instead of celebrating her.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Coach.”
I snapped out of my daze, blinking to find Maven Tanev standing next to me. She was watching Ariana, too. Her eyes slid to me, and she nodded her head toward an empty corner cocktail table.
I followed her over, unable to help myself when I looked back over my shoulder at Ariana just in time to see Nathan put his hand on the small of her back and guide her across the room. They were set to give a speech on stage any moment.
As soon as we were at the table and away from prying ears, Maven tipped her champagne glass to her lips, looking around the room with a smile like we were just having a nice chat.
“What the fuck is going on with Ari?” she asked, still smiling, the words ground through her teeth.
“You see it, too?”
“Of fucking course, I see it. She looks like a walking corpse in a knockout dress. Where has she been? I haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving.”
I frowned at that. “You haven’t? What about Sweet Dreams?”
“She told Nathan she didn’t want to do it anymore, that she was stretched too thin.
” Maven shook her head. “I didn’t understand it.
Nathan came to one of our meetings and told me and Grace the news.
He apologized for dumping it all back in our laps last minute and promised he was on the hunt to find a replacement.
He… he made it sound like he was disappointed, like Ariana was quitting on us and that she had a tendency to do that. ”
I tried. God, I tried to keep my emotions hidden, to keep my shit together, but I just couldn’t.
My jaw tightened, fingers curling into fists as I shook my head. “That motherfucker.”
Maven arched a brow at me, plucking a glass of champagne off a tray that floated past. “Here. Drink this and smile. And then tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t know for sure,” I said, and we pretended to laugh before I added, “But my gut is telling me Ariana isn’t safe, and that Nathan is controlling her. Manipulating her.” I swallowed. “Maybe worse.”
It was Maven’s turn to clench her jaw. I’d seen this side of her before — namely when she and Vince were fighting like trained MMA fighters the season she followed him around for a reporting job. Maven was laid back and cool — until you pissed her off. Then, she was hell on wheels.
“There is no way Ariana would give up Sweet Dreams freely,” I said with conviction.
“You’ve seen her. You know how much she loves this program, how much she believes in it, how much she’s put into it.
Why would she walk away suddenly? And what else would have her stretched too thin to be a part of it? ”
“He wants her to be a silent, beautiful little trophy on his arm,” Maven mused, her brows pinched. “But why? What happened? What would make him take this from her when he’s the one who assigned her to it in the first place?”
“That makes the most sense, doesn’t it?” I pointed out, my stomach sick even before I said it. “He didn’t give her Sweet Dreams because he believed in her.”
Maven’s eyes flicked back to the stage as Nathan and Ariana were announced, polite applause rising around us. My heart was racing in my chest. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to talk to someone about this, how much I needed someone else to know what I suspected.
And I knew I could trust Maven.
“He gave it to her because it kept her where he wanted her,” I went on quietly. “Gave her something that mattered, something public, something she couldn’t say no to or walk away from without looking like the bad guy.”
Maven stilled.
“It’s a leash,” I said. “A long one. It looks generous from the outside, makes him look like the supportive husband, the man who champions his wife’s passions.” My jaw clenched. “But it keeps her busy, exhausted, grateful — and firmly in his orbit.”
“And when she actually started excelling, when she did such an incredible job with the Skate for Change event and had put so much into making tonight happen…” Maven said slowly.
“He yanked it,” I finished. “He took it all back the second she was stepping into her own.”
“Because he can’t stand to see her actually thriving outside of her role being his wife?”
“Or because he didn’t like her having too much time away from him where he couldn’t keep tabs on her.”
My eyes drifted back to Ariana, to the way she stood just a fraction behind Nathan instead of beside him.
A fierce ache ripped through my chest, like my heart was trying to rip itself out and fly through the air to her, like it wanted to drag me onto that stage and get her in my arms where she belonged.
I felt powerless and reckless all at once, like I couldn’t do anything, and like I’d do whatever it took, no matter the cost, to get her safe.
“Jesus,” Maven muttered.
“He reframed it so she looks unreliable,” I said.
“So he looks disappointed. So the narrative becomes that Ariana quits things, that she can’t handle the pressure, that she needs him to step in and manage things for her.
” My hands curled tighter around the edge of the table.
“It isolates her, takes her away from you and Grace and the whole team, makes her doubt herself.” I swallowed.
“Makes everyone else second-guess her, too.”
Maven’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “And now she’s stuck standing on that stage next to him, smiling like he didn’t just strip her of the thing that gave her purpose.”
“Exactly,” I said. “This isn’t him losing faith in her. This is punishment. Control. A reminder that everything she has goes through him first.”
Maven exhaled slowly, fury simmering just beneath the surface. “So what now, Coach?”
I watched Nathan lean in toward Ariana, murmuring something in her ear that made her smile tighten another fraction.
My heart drummed inside me, unsteady and hurried. This felt like a moment that changed everything — the point of no return.
It felt like I was ready to risk it all.
“Now,” I said, voice low and steady, “we stop letting him control the story. And we make damn sure Ariana knows she’s not crazy — and she’s not alone.”