Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kyle
The door closes with a barely audible click, but somehow, it rearranges the entire room.
Everything inside me goes still in that stunned, aching way that happens after you take a hit you didn’t see coming.
My body feels suspended as if someone pressed pause on my bloodstream while everything else keeps spinning.
I stare at the door like I’m waiting for it to open again.
Maybe she’ll come back and let me pull her into my arms and kiss the fear out of her before she walks into a building that has never once protected her.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t come back, and I’m not sure whether it’s courage or heartbreak that makes my knees weak.
The condo is so quiet, I swear I can hear my heartbeat ricocheting off the walls.
I drag a shaky hand through my hair, trying to steady myself, but keep catching flashes of the last five minutes.
Her hand tightening on the doorknob as she flashes me a brave smile, splitting me wide open by saying, “I’d still choose you.
” I'll never forget her eyes, shining with fear, love, and resignation all tangled together.
My chest clenches so hard I have to shift my stance to breathe through it. She didn’t just leave; I let her walk out the door toward her execution. And she did it with her chin lifted because she believes that choosing me is worth the bruises the world is about to give her.
I brace my hands on the edge of the counter and bow my head, letting out a shaky exhale that does nothing to relieve the pressure building behind my ribs.
There’s no amount of time on the ice that could numb the burn of watching her make that kind of choice.
My phone buzzes, and I ignore it for a few seconds because I already know the trouble that is waiting for me when I pick it up.
I exhale slowly, steadying myself in the quiet before the blow lands, then grab the phone anyway.
Annoying Big Brother (2 missed calls)
Annoying Big Brother
Call me now. It’s about Alycia.
My pulse leaps so hard I feel it in the base of my throat as I swipe my thumb across Cooper’s name and lift the phone to my ear, every muscle in my body tightening like I’m preparing for a hit I can’t dodge.
He answers so quickly it’s clear he’s been waiting. “Kyle?”
“What happened?” I manage, though my voice is already fraying around the edges.
Cooper exhales slowly, the sound heavy enough to tell me this isn’t something he wanted to be the one to say. “She’s… Kyle, she’s drafting a statement.”
The world doesn’t just stop; it plunges. And I'm free-falling through something cold, merciless, and too damn familiar. For a long second, all I can do is force a breath through my lungs. “What kind of statement?”
“The kind that protects you,” Cooper says, voice tight. “The kind that admits the relationship was faked and accepts responsibility for it going too far. She didn’t wait for the meeting this morning. She went straight to Janine and said it should come from her.”
He pauses then, and I swear the silence makes the entire room colder.
“Said it should be her,” he repeats, almost inaudibly.
Something burns through my chest. Not the clean burn of anger, but something tangled and vicious.
Hurt. Fear. A spike of betrayal I don’t want to feel but can’t fight.
She didn’t ask what I thought or even talk to me.
She made this decision alone, as if I wasn’t already falling apart over the way she looked at me when she said she loved me.
I feel something hot and ugly burst in my chest, not at her, but at how she was conditioned to take the hit first. The way she thinks that the only way is to be the martyr, to throw herself to the wolves and bleed for me in order to stop the narrative.
“She said that?”
I’m not sure who I'm angriest at this moment. Myself or the world that taught her she has to defend the people she loves even if it kills her.
“Yeah. She said someone had to take the fall, and you don’t need more instability attached to your name. She said she could weather this better than you.”
That last part slices something vital inside me.
My eyes sting with a pressure I refuse to let fall. She honestly believes she’s stronger carrying the hit than I am standing beside her? God, it guts me because she shouldn’t have to be strong for both of us. Not like this. Not again. Not alone.
“She thinks she can weather it?” My voice is too soft for how violently everything inside me is shaking.
“She can,” Cooper admits. “But she shouldn’t have to.”
I press the heel of my hand into my eyes.
The image of her—standing in some conference room, shoulders squared, pretending she’s not terrified—clamps around my chest like a vise.
I should have followed her and insisted we face this together.
Damn what PR and Cooper said. Instead, she is probably sitting in her office, with her heart in freefall, trying to protect me from a storm we created together.
“Don’t let PR send anything,” I say, my voice steadying into something lethal, even as it trembles beneath. “Not a draft. Not a note. Not even a fucking comma. She is not taking the fall for me.”
“Kyle—”
“No. She already gave them enough,” I continue, my breath coming rough and uneven, the truth clawing its way up my throat. “She walked into that damn office alone to do the brave thing because she thinks no one will do it for her. She won’t bleed for me on paper either. Not now, not ever.”
This time, the silence isn’t cold; it’s weighted with emotion and something that sounds like guilt on Cooper’s end.
“What do you want to do?” he asks finally, voice low, careful, as if he knows the wrong nudge will send me straight through the wall.
I stare at the space where she stood, her voice cracking when she said she’d choose me again even if it destroyed her. And the truth appears right in front of me, as if it hadn’t been there all along, staring me right in the face.
“I’m going to tell the truth,” I say, my voice no longer shaking. “I’m done hiding behind PR strategy. I’m done watching them protect the franchise and let her bear the weight. I’m done letting her believe she has to face this alone.”
“Kyle—”
“You won’t talk me out of it, Coop. I’m telling the truth,” I repeat, firmer now. “Today. Unfiltered. And I don’t give a damn if it pisses off the front office.”
There’s a quiet beat on the other end before Cooper speaks, and for the first time all morning, his voice softens. “Good choice, little brother.”
“Yeah?” I respond, slightly surprised.
“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a rustle like he’s rubbing a hand over his face. “And… I’m sorry for going along with Cole’s half-baked plan. I never should’ve let it get this far, but I didn’t know how else to make you two stop being idiots and admit you even liked each other.”
“Does everyone know?” My grip on the phone slips, and I catch it mid-drop, heart stopping.
“Yes,” he says, so plainly it borders on rude. “Everyone knows.”
“Even—”
“Yes,” he interrupts with a sigh that sounds both long-suffering and affectionate. “Even Momma. She’s been praying for this outcome since Cole sent Alycia’s picture to the group chat on your first day of training.”
“Wait, there’s another group chat?” I let out a strangled sound.
“Yes. We made it when Beau and Alise couldn’t pull their heads out of their asses. We just added them and started using it again for you two.”
“Perfect. So, I’ve basically been starring in a family group chat reality show about my love life without even—”
“Kyle, do you want to stand beside her now?” Cooper asks, gentler.
“Is that even a question, big brother?”
“I was just checking. Either way, just remember that you don’t have to do this alone either.” The line goes quiet for half a second, then he adds, “We’ve got you,” and hangs up before I can respond.
I stand there, staring at the dark screen like it might give me back every moment when I wasn’t brave enough to say what I felt sooner.
But there is no time for a personal pity party.
I have to do something before Alycia does something she can’t take back.
With my mind made up, I walk straight to the bathroom.
The shower hisses to life, steam rising immediately, and I step under the hot spray.
I brace both hands on the tile as the water pounds over my shoulders.
Heat rolls down my spine, loosening muscles that feel welded together, but it doesn’t reach the place where everything inside me has clenched tight.
I close my eyes, and her absence hits with brutal clarity.
I see the determination she tried to hide, the quiet terror she didn’t bother to disguise, the stubborn courage she’s always carried like armor she forged herself.
She walked out carrying all of that on her shoulders, leaving me standing in the wreckage of what loving someone like her actually means.
Steam thickens around me, curling warm against my skin, but inside, I feel cold where she peeled herself away. There’s a pressure in my chest that doesn’t ease with breath because she didn’t ask me to stand beside her.
She didn’t even consider it as an option.
She’s probably been doing this her whole life, bracing for impact alone.
Even after everything we said to each other last night, she still believes she has to walk into that office by herself and take the hit so I don’t have to.
It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Not in the way of betrayal, but in the way of someone finally understanding the exact shape of the wound the person they love has lived with for years.
The water pounds harder, echoing through the small space. I lift my head, letting the spray strike my face, and breathe through the realization settling like gravity inside me.