Chapter 18
I've always prided myself on maintaining control. In crisis management, being the calm in the storm is practically part of my job description. I'm Lana freakin' Decker, youngest PR director in the NHL, daughter of a hockey legend, professional problem solver.
But as I sat at my desk, staring blankly at my computer screen, control felt like a distant memory. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing with notifications, my inbox was overflowing, and my heart – well, that was another disaster entirely.
"Three more requests for comment on Cam potentially going to Montreal," Katie announced, placing a steaming cup of coffee on my desk. She gave me a concerned look. "I told them all 'no comment' for now."
"Good," I managed, grateful that at least my voice sounded steady. "Thank you."
She lingered in the doorway, clearly weighing whether to say something more. "Are you... okay? You seem..."
I pressed my fingertips against my temples, trying to ease the tension headache building there. Images of last night flashed unbidden: Cam's hands in my hair, his lips on my neck, the weight of him above me. The memory only sharpened the contrast with this morning's reality.
"Fine," I answered automatically, smoothing my blazer. "Just a lot happening today."
She shifted her weight, clearly debating whether to push. "You know, if you need anything, or someone to talk to..." She trailed off, the offer hanging in the air between us. "Or I could grab you a cupcake from downstairs? You look like you could use one."
The kindness nearly broke me. I swallowed hard, pressing my fingernails into my palm to maintain control. "Thanks, I really appreciate that. But right now, I need to focus on a strategy memo for Marcus." I gestured to my laptop. "Crazy busy day."
Katie nodded, unconvinced but professional enough not to push. "Well, you should probably know that Cam's confession to Zayne has officially gone supernova online." She pulled out her tablet and turned it to show me. "It's like, everywhere."
I forced myself to look at the screen, where a compilation of fan reactions to the now-infamous video filled the display.
People had edited the video of Cam telling Zayne "It's always been her" with romantic music, slow motion, dreamy filters – transforming a private moment into public entertainment.
@HockeyHottiesDaily had posted: Is anyone else DECEASED over Cam Murphy's declaration about Lana?? "It's always been her" I CANNOT brEATHE
@Slashrr2232 said: First rule of hockey, you don't mess with your teammate's sister
@SlashersFanatic4Ever wrote: If Montreal steals Cam from St. Pete after THAT video with Zayne, I'm throwing myself into Tampa Bay
@PuckBunnyQueen's post had over 50,000 likes: Let me get this straight: We find out Cam Murphy has been secretly pining for ONE woman for YEARS and now he might move to freaking CANADA?!
And the comments just got worse from there:
OMG imagine being loved like that!! Lana is living everyone's dream!!
Bet Montreal's single ladies are already buying Hitman jerseys
Is it wrong that I kinda ship Cam with Zayne after that hug tho?
I closed my eyes briefly, a wave of nausea washing over me.
"Thank you for the update," I said, taking the tablet and placing it face-down on my desk.
"Can you hold my calls for the next couple of hours, and reschedule any non-essential meetings for later in the week please?
Also, would you please confirm my cat sitter through the weekend?
I'll be lucky to go home at all this week. "
"Of course," Katie said, still hovering. "A couple more things: Coach Sully wants you at practice this afternoon. Sports Illustrated is sending a photographer for the 'Season Expectations' piece."
My stomach dropped so fast I felt momentarily dizzy.
Practice. Where Cam would be. Where I'd have to stand on the sidelines, watching him skate in front of the press, pretending nothing had changed.
Where everyone would see us together – or notably not together – after that viral video of his confession to Zayne.
"Thanks, okay, let’s add that to the schedule." I managed, stealthily reaching for the ring from beneath the papers and slipping it back onto my finger. No matter how I felt, I still had a job to do.
"And Ryan Keller called. He said to tell you the Redline signing scheduled for tomorrow is being pushed to next week while they 'monitor the situation.' He'll call with details later."
There was only one explanation after Cam’s performance last night: The trade rumors. Shit.
That was the final straw. The Redline deal – the entire reason for this fake engagement charade – was likely now in jeopardy because of the trade rumors. Everything we'd worked for, risked our reputations for, was hanging by a thread. Fuck.
After Katie left, I allowed myself exactly thirty seconds of panic. I put my head in my hands and took deep, shuddering breaths. Thirty seconds to feel the full weight of disappointment, betrayal, and heartache. Then I straightened my spine, smoothed my hair, and opened my laptop.
Professional Lana was reporting for duty.
I drafted press statements for every scenario: Cam staying, Cam leaving, the Redline deal proceeding, the Redline deal collapsing.
I created talking points for Marcus, for Coach Sully, for the team owner.
I worked methodically, efficiently, as if I were handling a crisis for any other player – not the man who had spent last night making love to me.
It felt like writing my own heartbreak into reality, formalizing the end before we'd even truly begun. I started typing anyway, my fingers stiff and reluctant on the keyboard.
If Cam leaves: Position as amicable separation benefiting both parties.
Emphasize Cam's legacy with Slashers, focus on exciting new chapter for him.
Slashers' best opportunity to become a powerhouse for decades to come.
Redline partnership continues regardless of team.
Break engagement quietly after announcement, citing long-distance challenges.
The words blurred as I typed them. I blinked hard, my throat tightening again. I forced myself back into PR Director mode. This was my job: to manage public perception, to craft the narratives, to control the story. Even when the story was crushing me.
If Cam stays: Celebrate loyalty to team, position as commitment to bringing another Cup to St. Pete. Emphasize connection to community, teammates. Engagement continues as planned through Redline launch, reassess after…
I stopped typing, cursor hovering. Reassess after what? After the fake engagement had served its purpose? After we'd both gotten what we wanted professionally?
But what about what I wanted personally?
I closed my eyes, remembering how it felt to wake up in his bed this morning, feeling his warmth against my back, his arm draped possessively over my waist. For those few blissful moments, I'd allowed myself to want more…
to imagine a future where the ring wasn't just for show, where the loving glances weren't just performance.
The memory stung like salt in an open wound.
My phone vibrated with an incoming text from Cam. The fourth since I kicked him out of my office an hour ago.
CAM: Lana, please. We need to talk.
I turned my phone face down and continued working.
The rink buzzed with activity when I arrived downstairs. Players were already on the ice, running drills under Coach Sully's watchful eye.
The familiar sounds of hockey practice – skates cutting ice, pucks hitting boards, coaches barking instructions – usually centered me.
Today, they set my teeth on edge as I stood in the observation area above the rink, pretending to review media schedules for the upcoming road trip while actually avoiding looking at the ice.
At #22, specifically.
Cam was below, going through drills with brutal intensity, his movements more aggressive than usual. Even from this distance, I could see the tightness in his shoulders, the extra force behind each shot. He was playing angry.
Because of me? Because of Montreal? Both?
"Wow, he looks like he's trying to murder the ice," came Coco's voice from beside me.
"Coco!" I startled, not hearing her approach.
She leaned against the railing next to me, watching both the practice below and my expression with equal sharpness. "So, you want to tell me what happened? Because last I checked, you two were sneaking kisses after the game, and now he's trying to shatter the plexiglass with his death stare."
"It's complicated, and I'm not allowed to talk about it," I mumbled, eyes fixed on my tablet. My fingers unconsciously twisted the engagement ring, a new nervous habit I couldn't seem to break.
"Does it begin with 'M' and end with 'ontreal?'"
I sighed, finally looking up at my friend. "There are no secrets in hockey. Yeah, they made us a trade offer. A massive one, apparently."
Coco's eyes widened. "Shit."
"Yep."
"And you found out after..." She trailed off, but her meaning was clear.
I nodded, my throat tight. "Surprise!" I said weakly. "Yeah. This morning."
"Ouch." She winced in sympathy. "But he just found out too, right? That's what Logan said."
"That's what he claims." I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice.
I shrugged, trying for casual and missing by a mile.
"I dunno, he wouldn't even look me in the eye during the meeting, which feels suspicious.
It doesn't really matter. This was always temporary, right?
The so-called engagement has served its purpose – the Redline deal is basically done. Unless the trade rumors kill it."
"You're full of it."
I blinked at her blunt response. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Coco crossed her arms, unmoved by my PR director glare. "This stopped being fake weeks ago, and we both know it. The question is, are you going to throw away something real because you're scared?"