Page 106 of Between Love and War
Heather looks stunned, but she covers it well, clapping once to signal the wrap-up. “That’s all the time we have for today,” she says smoothly. “Thank you, everyone.”
Chairs scrape the floor. Reporters stand. There’s no scramble this time, no rush for a gotcha quote or ambush question. And for a moment I think that maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe I didn’t lose the public’s trust after all.
I stand too, brushing my palms against my slacks. They’re clammy. I hadn’t noticed until now. I’d just told the truth to a room full of people trained to tear it apart, and somehow… I’m still standing. Someone near the front lifts a hand, not to ask a question, but in a small, casual wave. “Good luck at the Games, man,” he says. “We’ll be rooting for you.”
I nod, something in my chest tightening and loosening all at once. “Thanks.”
I glance toward Kate. She’s already on her feet, still quiet, still watching. But she’s smiling now—full, proud, unblinking.
The positive comments surprised me. Because I’ve always been performing a version of myself that people liked. Now, for the first time, they’re starting to likeme.
When everyone is out of the room, all that’s left is me, Heather, Chris, Vince, and Kate.
Heather raises an eyebrow. “So,” she says, arms crossed like she’s gearing up for a lecture. “You went off-script.”
I shrug. “Yeah. Sorry, Heather. I won’t do that polished lying anymore.”
She studies me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, her expression softens. “Don’t apologize. That was better than anything we could’ve planned.”
Chris lets out a low whistle. “Dude. Whoareyou?”
Vince grins. “No offense, but I’ve seen you talk more in the last ten minutes than in the entire season.”
I give a dry laugh, still trying to shake the weight of what I said. Still trying to breathe through the fact that I said it at all.
Heather eyes me again, then shifts her gaze toward Kate. “So… is this the part where I ask about you two and you both pretend she’s justvisiting?”
Kate freezes for half a second, her eyes widening just slightly. Then she gives a soft, polite laugh and tucks a loose curl behind her ear like she’s hoping that gesture alone will make her invisible. “We’re friends,” she offers gently, eyes flicking to me for backup.
I glance at Heather. “You’re scaring her.”
Heather’s smile turns reassuring. “Sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just… I’ve known Michael for years, and he’s never been like this.”
Kate’s gaze snaps back to the floor. This time, her blush is unmistakable. Heather pushes off the table and steps forward. “So, Kate, thank you. For bringing out the heart in our resident master of indifference.”
Kate looks up, surprised at the unexpected kindness in her voice. “Least I could do,” she says, her shoulders lifting in a quiet shrug, like she’s not sure what to do with the attention.
Heather smiles and waves it off. “Okay, I’m not going to dig. Whatever this is—you don’t owe me an explanation. I’ve been in this industry long enough to know not to get in the way of the good stuff.”
She starts walking toward the door, but halfway there, she glances back over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Just… maybe don’t panic when you see yourself written into a love triangle in someone’s fanfiction. Or when a stranger asks for a selfie while you’re in line at the grocery store.”
Kate lets out a breath of laughter, and Heather winks. “Don’t worry. I can give you a crash course on surviving the spotlight.”
“Heather,” I say. “She’s not gonna be a public figure.”
“She will be if she sticks with you.”
Kate doesn’t say anything. I know what she’s thinking. She’s regretting being tangled up in all this. Regretting coming here with me. Because Kate doesn’t like the bright lights and the attention, and Heather’s right. If she sticks with me, I can’t shield her from the inevitable truth that she will be more famous as she originally is.
And she doesn’t like that.
Does she?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Kate
To be completely honest, it’s not that I’m scared of attention. I’m just… wary of the wrong kind. The kind that turns you into a meme. Or a headline. Or worse—someone people on the internet have strong, unsolicited opinions about.
