Page 3 of Boards & Betrayal

The shoot wrapped up, and I finally exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Jamie cradled her baby, cooing softly as she approached the table where I was reviewing the photos on the computer. Her eyes sparkled as she looked over my shoulder, watching each image appear on the screen.

"These are amazing, Ally," Jamie said, her voice full of genuine admiration. "You really have a gift."

I managed a smile. "Thank you," I replied softly.

She glanced at me with a curious look. "Would you like to hold him?"

My breath caught in my throat. I looked at the baby nestled in her arms, so tiny and fragile. For a moment, I imagined what it would feel like to hold him, to feel that warmth and innocence against my skin. But then reality crashed back down, heavy and suffocating.

"I have somewhere to be," I lied, forcing a polite smile. "But thank you. He truly is an angel."

Jamie nodded, not pushing further. "He is," she said with a soft laugh. "Just you wait until you have one of your own."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat tightened as tears threatened to spill over. Without another word, I turned away and quickly gathered my things.

I left the studio in a blur; the door closing behind me with a hollow thud. The air outside felt cold against my flushed cheeks as I crossed the street with hurried steps until I reached the park nearby.

The familiar sights and sounds of the park surrounded me—the chirping birds, children’s laughter in the distance—but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside me. I found an empty bench and sank onto it, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.

Tears welled up despite my efforts, blurring my vision, but I blinked them away. I leaned forward, elbows resting on myknees as I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold it in. It had been six months.

Six months.

I should be over this.

Hell, I was only twenty-two. I shouldn't even want…

I sucked in a breath, then another. The raw ache remained, but felt slightly less suffocating now.

I sat on the bench a bit longer, taking deep breaths until I felt steady enough to return to the studio. The cold air had done little to clear my head, but I couldn’t afford to stay away any longer. I forced myself to stand and walked back, each step feeling heavier than the last.

When I pushed open the studio door, Carl looked up from his desk. "Everything all right?" His eyes scanned my face, searching for any sign of weakness.

I nodded, offering a tight smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Carl seemed satisfied with that and leaned back in his chair. "You did great today, Ally. That photoshoot is going to put this studio on the map," he said with a grin. "Thank God for Crestwood work placement or I never would have found you. And to think, the NHL wanted you." He scoffed, shaking his head.

I swallowed hard. The NHL had indeed offered me a position as a sports photographer after graduation, which was a few weeks away. But after everything with Thomas and Nick, the idea of being so close to that world was too painful. Especially with what happened. Especially after the scandal. I wouldn't be taken seriously in that field ever again.

This is fine, I thought, more to myself than to Carl.It’s good. You're still taking photos, and that's what counts.

At that moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out and saw a text notification from Kara.

Carl leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if warding off an impending headache.

“Listen Ally, I need you to come in tomorrow for a last-minute shoot,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of exasperation. “It’s some middle school promotion thing. Kids posing with school supplies or something. They’re sending over a whole group.”

I nodded mechanically, barely registering his words. My mind was still wrapped around the tightness in my chest, the ache that seemed to throb with each heartbeat.

“I know it’s a pain in the ass, but the client is paying good money for it,” he continued. “I swear, sometimes I think these schools just look for ways to waste our time.”

His voice droned on, but I wasn’t really listening. The images from the earlier shoot played on a loop in my mind—the tiny fingers, the soft blankets, the pastel colors that felt like a cruel joke.

“Anyway,” Carl concluded with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I replied automatically, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack my face. “I’ll be here.”

Carl gave me an approving nod before turning back to his desk, already immersed in whatever task lay before him. I gathered my things and headed for the door, each step feeling like it required more effort than it should.

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