Chapter 19 The Memo #2
He stepped closer.
Not close enough to touch.
Never that again.
Not unless he wanted to lose whatever was left of his self-respect.
“Tell me something,” he said, voice low. “When I told you about my family, did that go in the updated notes?”
Hurt flashed across her face.
Good.
No.
Not good.
Nothing about this was good.
“That’s cruel,” she whispered.
He leaned in slightly. “Was it useful?”
Her eyes shone now.
She did not let the tears fall.
Of course she did not.
Lena Hart could hold herself together in rooms designed to take her apart.
He knew that.
He had admired that.
He had wanted to be the place where she did not have to.
Stupid.
So stupid.
“It was never like that,” she said.
“Then what was it like?”
Her lips trembled once before she controlled them. “At first? It was strategy.”
There it was.
A clean blade.
Nico’s chest went hollow.
Lena took one shaky breath. “But then it changed.”
He laughed again.
He hated the sound.
“Right.”
“It did.”
“When?” he asked. “At the coffee shop? The hoodie? The kiss? Which part is where I stopped being an asset?”
Her face crumpled for half a second.
Just half.
Then she forced herself steady.
“I deserved that.”
“No,” he said. “You earned it.”
She went still.
That was the one.
That was the one that found bone.
Nico knew it as soon as he said it.
Regret came sharp and immediate, but he was too far gone to use it.
Lena stepped back.
Not physically far.
Emotionally, the whole building opened between them.
“I am sorry for the memo,” she said.
Her voice had changed.
Quieter.
Flatter.
The voice people used when they were bleeding and refused to offer the wound for inspection.
“I am sorry for the way I first saw you. I am sorry that someone took something ugly and true from the beginning and used it to make everything after look false.” She swallowed. “But do not stand there and pretend you do not know I care about you.”
He stared at her.
For one second, the world tilted.
Because that sounded like truth.
The worst part was that it sounded exactly like truth.
But truth had become slippery in her hands.
Or maybe in his.
His phone buzzed.
Then hers.
Then someone near the stairwell whispered, “They posted again.”
Lena looked down first.
Her face went white.
Nico pulled out his phone.
The gossip account had posted a second slide.
This one showed an old photo.
Him and Lena outside the coffee shop on their first public date. Her hand over his. His eyes on her.
The caption read:
From planned PR to public kiss. Did Westbridge fake a love story to protect its star player? Sources say Coach Hart was aware.
Coach Hart.
Nico’s stomach dropped.
Not for the coach.
For Lena.
Because the comments had turned.
Fast.
Ugly.
She really used her dad’s player for career points.
This is why coach’s daughters shouldn’t work with teams.
Nico is trash but Lena is worse if she planned it.
Imagine being so desperate for PR experience you fake-date a scholarship athlete.
Or he used her and now she’s taking the fall.
Lena read them.
He watched her read them.
Watched the color drain from her face with each new line.
And even furious, even gutted, even with the memo still burning behind his eyes, Nico wanted to take the phone from her hand and break it.
That was the problem.
Caring did not leave just because trust did.
Talia Morgan burst from the hallway, tablet in hand, face tight with controlled panic.
“There you both are.” Her gaze flicked between them. “Conference room. Now.”
Lena did not move.
Nico did not either.
Talia lowered her voice. “This is not optional.”
From the far end of the hallway, Coach Hart appeared.
He looked at Lena first.
Then Nico.
Then the space between them.
His face hardened.
“Nico,” he said. “My office.”
Lena stepped forward. “Dad—”
“No.” Coach Hart’s voice cracked through the lobby. “Not another word out here.”
Several people went silent.
Several more lifted phones.
Nico saw Lena notice.
Saw her put the smile on.
Not fully.
Just the beginning of it.
A reflex.
A wound dressed as manners.
He hated that he still knew her that well.
He hated that he wanted to tell her not to do it.
She turned to him instead.
“Nico,” she said softly. “Please don’t shut me out before you let me explain.”
He looked at her.
At the girl from the memo.
At the girl from the court.
At the girl who had kissed him like he mattered and written him like a liability.
Maybe both were true.
Maybe that was what destroyed him.
His voice came out quiet.
Flat.
Dead in a way anger never was.
“You got what you needed, Lena.”
Her face changed.
“Nico—”
“My image is softer now.” He stepped back. “Congratulations.”
The words landed between them like something final.
Then he turned and walked toward Coach Hart’s office before he could see what they did to her.
Because if he looked back, he might stop.
And stopping would mean admitting that the part of him that wanted her was still louder than the part that knew better.
Behind him, Lena did not call his name again.
That hurt most of all.