Page 13 of Boards & Betrayal

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

I walked over to the small bar cart in the corner of the room and poured myself a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled as I lifted it to my lips, the burn of alcohol doing little to ease the turmoil inside me.

Janet’s words echoed in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. She knew exactly where to hit me, reminding me of my failures as a father and a… We were never married, thank God. But I wasn't a great partner. Neither was she.

The memory of that night—Nick’s anger, his fists flying—played out in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t escape.

I downed the whiskey in one gulp and set the glass down with more force than necessary. Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating my achievements as a coach, not rehashing old wounds. But now all I could think about was how fucked up everything had become.

The awards ceremony loomed ahead like an unwelcome opponent on game day. I had to pull myself together. There was no room for distractions or emotional baggage tonight. This award was important—for my career and for maintaining control over the narrative of my life.

I took a deep breath and straightened my tie once more, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. Tall, muscular, imposing—everything people expected me to be. But beneath that façade lay a man who had lost more than he cared to admit.

Another deep breath and I forced myself to focus on what lay ahead. This night wasn’t about Janet or Nick or any of the bullshit from the past.

It was about me.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me.

Not tonight.

My thoughts drifted back to Ally, and a wave of guilt washed over me. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess between Janet and me. Hell, none of it was her fault. Our time together had been brief but intense—something I couldn’t forget even if I tried.

I straightened my jacket again and took a deep breath. There was no point dwelling on it now; I had an awards ceremony to attend. My reflection in the mirror reminded me of what needed to be done tonight—put on a strong front, accept the award, and get through it without any more complications.

With one last look around the house, I headed out the door and locked it behind me. The night loomed ahead like an unwelcome challenge, but I was determined to face it head-on.

I just hoped I could keep it together long enough to get through the ceremony without losing my goddamn mind.

Chapter 5

Ally

Stepping out of the Uber, I clutched my camera bag like a lifeline. The grand building loomed above me, its illuminated façade casting a golden glow that seemed to mock my internal turmoil. The knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach, making it hard to breathe. The mix of emotions I'd been pushing down since agreeing to help Kara surged back, a wave threatening to drown me.

The gala was nothing short of opulent. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, shimmering light over the room. Round tables draped in white linen were adorned with elaborate floral arrangements and flickering candles. Waitstaff in crisp uniforms moved gracefully through the crowd, balancing trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Guests mingled in their finest attire, laughter and conversation blending into a low hum that filled the space. Women in elegant gowns and men in tailored suits looked like they belonged here, like they were part of some exclusive club I could never truly be a member of. I felt out of place, an imposter with a camera slung over my shoulder.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, reminding myself that I was here for work. Kara had trusted me with this assignment, and I couldn't let her down. Still, every step I took deeper into the crowd brought me closer to facing Thomas, closer to confronting feelings I wasn't sure I could handle.

I set up near the stage, angling my camera for the best shots as people took their seats. The tension in my chest grew with each passing moment. My eyes scanned the room for Thomas, though part of me dreaded actually finding him.

I quickly got to work, focusing on the familiar routine of adjusting my camera settings and finding the best angles. The rhythmic clicks of my camera began to steady my nerves, each shot a small anchor in the swirling sea of emotions.

The room was packed. Athletes and coaches filled the space, their laughter and chatter creating a buzz that hummed through the air. College staff flitted between tables, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. The athletes wore their achievements like badges, some still in their team blazers, others more relaxed but equally proud. I recognized a couple of Crestwood players, but kept my distance, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention.

I framed a shot of a group laughing near the buffet table, capturing the carefree joy on their faces. A part of me envied them—the simplicity of their happiness, unburdened by the past. The camera clicked again, and I shifted my focus to another corner of the room.

None of them mattered, though. All I could think about was Thomas. Was he already here? Would he even notice me in this sea of people? A part of me hoped he wouldn’t; it would be easier that way. But another part—one I tried to ignore—wanted him to see me, wanted him to acknowledge that night had meant something.

I moved through the crowd, snapping candid shots as I went. The weight of my unresolved feelings for Thomas pressed down on me with each step. It was like walking through quicksand; every move forward seemed to pull me deeper into memories I wasn’t ready to face.

As I circled back toward the stage, my eyes scanned the room almost involuntarily. I caught glimpses of animated conversations, clinking glasses, and celebratory hugs. Still no sign of him. Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe I’d get through this night without having to confront him after all.

But then again, who was I kidding? Even if Thomas didn’t see me tonight, these feelings wouldn’t just disappear. They’d linger, just like they had for months—a reminder of what could have been and what was lost.

I took another deep breath and adjusted my lens for a wide shot of the stage. The ceremony would start soon, and I needed to be ready. The familiar comfort of my camera shielded me from the chaos inside my head. For now, that would have to be enough.

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