Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
The rules we’d already been bending felt like they were about to snap.
If the organization was already looking at me differently — already questioning my judgment, my loyalty — what would happen if they found out about us, too?
Somewhere in the midst of my meltdown, I was hauled up off the floor by two cold, small hands. I recognized them distantly. They belonged to our assistant coach.
I floated with her out of the room, past the locker room, straight down the hall, and to Claire’s office.
Only when I saw Braden and the head coach of the team sitting there with her did I snap back to reality.
My eyes found Braden’s first, and we shared a look of mutual destruction — the longing to go to each other, the pain of knowing we couldn’t.
His hands were wrung tightly in his lap, his left knee bouncing.
It had already reached us.
Somehow, it had already gone past the point of no return.
I managed to tear my gaze from his, sitting in the chair I was instructed to sit in. The door shut behind us. Claire steepled her fingers on her desk, sharing a look with Coach Palmer before she attempted a tight smile and spoke.
“Emily,” she began carefully, “we’ve been monitoring the clip from your podcast interview.”
My stomach turned.
“It wasn’t a major issue at first,” Coach Palmer added, leaning forward, forearms braced on his knees. “Clips like that circulate all the time. They flare up, then die out.”
Claire nodded. “But this morning, it was picked up by several major outlets. That changes things.”
My pulse thudded in my ears, heart cracking right down the middle.
I’d been so close…
After weeks of recovering from the injury, of rehab and PT. I was finally back at practice. I was finally going to be on the field again.
And I had to go and ruin it.
I always ruined everything.
“Our PR team is in a frenzy trying to get ahead of it,” Claire continued. “And with that kind of attention comes… scrutiny.”
The word settled heavy in the room, and I couldn’t help it. I glanced at Braden. His focus was on Claire, but his eyes darted my way, and I saw the same fear echoing in my chest mirrored in that gaze.
I’m sorry, I mouthed.
Braden frowned, subtly shaking his head as if telling me not to say that, not to go there, not to take the blame.
But it was mine to take.
“People start digging,” Coach Palmer said bluntly. “Into you. Your history. Your social media. Your life.”
A chill crept up my spine. I hadn’t even considered that part of it yet. Of course, the comments would be crazy. Of course, they’d dig into me.
The injured cheerleader, not even dancing, complaining about pay.
I was going to be sick.
Claire reached for her phone on the desk, her expression tightening just slightly. “And when people dig, they don’t really look for context. They just find what they can find and make up stories of their own.”
She unlocked the screen, tapped once, then turned it toward us.
I didn’t want to look, but I did, and the moment it registered what I was looking at, I knew it was over.
The photo was dark and grainy, taken from a distance by God knew who.
But it was unmistakable.
Braden and me.
Behind the stadium.
His hands on my face.
My mouth on his.
The room tilted, taking my composure with it. The breath I’d been struggling to grasp evaporated altogether.
I could handle my own demise. I could stomach getting cut from the team, being shamed in the industry. Surviving was what I did. I would move somewhere new. Find something new. Be someone new.
But Braden had risked everything.
And I’d betrayed his trust with my recklessness.
My eyes welled as I lifted my gaze to him, finding him ghostly white and staring blankly at the screen. I willed him to look at me, though I didn’t know why. I wouldn’t exactly be a grounding force in this situation, would I?
I’d only make it worse.
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Coach Palmer exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “This is exactly what we’re trying to avoid when we have you sign a contract.”
Claire lowered the phone but didn’t look away from us. “As of right now, this hasn’t hit the outlets that picked up the interview.”
A fragile thread of hope flickered.
“But it’s circulating,” she added. “Fan forums. Message boards. Private accounts. It’s only a matter of time.”
The thread snapped.
Braden shifted beside me, his jaw tight, shoulders rigid. I didn’t dare look at him again. Not with that image burned into my vision.
Claire’s tone softened, just slightly. “Look, we’re not here to punish you.”
That surprised me enough to glance up, that thread of hope singing again.
“We’re here to contain this,” she clarified. “Before it spirals further.”
Coach Palmer nodded. “Braden, you don’t need this kind of distraction right now. Not with the season you’re having. Not with what’s ahead.”