Page 230 of Make the Play

The room goes still as he continues.

“She got stalked. The woman I’m in love with got fuckinghurt.And you’re mad you didn’t get a fake break-up post?”

Rachel’s eyes drop to the table, and even Coach Benson looks grim.

“She could’ve died, and you think she owes you a press release? She owes younothing.”

His voice cracks, just slightly. Then steadies again, steel behind every word.

“You want a story, Neil?” His voice dips lower. “I fell for her the second she rolled her eyes at me and told me I was a walking liability with abs. I fell harder every time she saw through my bullshit, every time she challenged me. Every time she didn’t let me get away with being the clown everyone expected me to be.”

My chest twists, tight and thundering only for him.

“I’ve been falling ever since, and I’ll keep falling until the day I die. Whether or not it fits your agenda.”

Chase leans back then, that crooked grin curling back into place.

“So, no. There’s no sad caption. No sunset photo. Just Chaz. Messy, real and fucking in love. If that’s your PR crisis?” He spreads his arms. “Tough shit.”

Neil is quiet, and no one else moves. Coach Benson is the one who speaks first.

“As long as he doesn’t send her flowers on Storm time, I don’t care.”

Chase throws his hands in the air. “It was one time!”

John stares at him. “You sent adelivery driverto our press conference with a bouquet and a handwritten sonnet.”

“It was a haiku,” Chase says proudly. “I’m exploring new forms.”

Rachel chokes on a laugh while Coach Benson mutters a curse under his breath. Neil looks like he’s aged ten years in ten seconds, and John just sighs.

“You sure it won’t affect your game?”

“Nope. I’m in love with the best thing that’s ever happened to my game,” Chase says, zero shame, zero filter.

The silence that follows is thick and uneasy as they all glance at each other, unconvinced. So I speak, because someone has to bring this circus home.

“Chase’s stats are up and his discipline’s better. He hasn’t thrown a punch in weeks—almost a record. And yes,Iheldthis campaign together. I handled the press and took the heat. I wrote every line of spin that kept this idiot from tanking his image.”

I look around the room, making sure they hear me.

“But let’s be very clear,” I say, eyes sharp now. “I willnotbe collateral damage.”

No one interrupts, not even Neil.

“I was stalked and assaulted. And through it all, I kept showing up. I protected your player, your brand, your bottom line. So if anyone here was planning to use what happened to me as the tidy little ending to your campaign arc, think again. I’m a professional. I gave you everything you asked for, and now I’m protectingmyself. Which means being with someone who’d burn the whole damn narrative before he’d ever let it cost me again.”

Chase squeezes my knee under the table.

“So unless anyone’s got a legal objection?” I glance around. Smile. “Sign the damn paperwork.”

Neil clears his throat. “Right. Yes. Okay. I suppose that resolves… everything.”

Chase leans toward me, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “I want that entire speech framed and hung above our bed.”

I roll my eyes. “Only if I get to highlight the part where I called you an idiot.”

“That’s slander, but Idolove when you talk dirty.”

---