Page 128 of Face Off With Fate

My breath whooshed out. He was laying his pain out on that podium. Not hitting a single one of the speech points I’d planned for him. And it was better than anything I could’ve written.

Monroe’s eyes moved across the room, finding mine. He looked at me the way he did when we were alone, when there was no room. Like I was a fixed point in the universe.

“Because I’ve learned there’s no greater gift than having someone who has your back. Shows they care…shows they love you.”

My chest beat a million miles a minute.

I looked down at the tablecloth, blinking away the tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

Keep it together.

The applause could’ve filled a stadium. Shouts of, “That’s my coach!” popped up from around the room as people stood. Jimenez and Ari let out a pair of ear-piercing whistles. But it was Dalton’s yells that drowned out the rest.

I looked over to find him swiping at his eyes between thunderous claps.

How could anyone ever think poorly of Monroe?

I clapped, too, but the gesture felt too small for what I was feeling. I should have been running between the tables and launching myself into his arms. Kissing him on the mouth and declaring I loved him too.

But I couldn’t do any of those things. Not yet. Not until after pre-season.

I can wait.

Grabbing my clutch, I slipped out into the hallway, needing some air before facing him.

I walked down a corridor off the main ballroom, past a stretch of framed photographs, until I found an alcove with a pair of chairs nobody was using. Velvet caressed my exposed back, and I worked to slow my racing heart, lids fluttering closed for just a moment.

Muffled conversation growing louder caught my attention, and I nearly broke my neck with my double take.

Tyra stood at the entrance of the alcove in a champagne dress that probably cost more than my monthly rent, a sly smile painted on her face. Those cunning eyes lit up with nothing good. Lauren, the final girl we’d interviewed, was standing beside her.

My stomach dropped. What the hell are they doing here together?

“Gracie,” Tyra said, voice coated in a cockiness that had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. “You look wonderful.”

“Tyra.” I kept my voice even as I stood, not wanting her to lord over me for this conversation. “Didn’t know you were going to be here. Not exactly a Texas event.”

She tilted her head slightly. “No, it’s not. But you know me. I go wherever there’s a good story to be had.”

“How about we cut the bullshit and you tell me what you want?”

Her laugh hung in the charged air. “I always liked that about you, Gracie. You were direct. Practical.”

Lauren stayed quiet, watching me.

“There’s a tell-all being written about Josh Monroe.”

Something cold moved through me, but I kept my face still.

“About his management style. His history with the organization, and⁠—”

“Doesn’t sound very interesting,” I said, cutting her off as dread pooled.

“Oh, but you didn’t let me get to the good part.” She reached into her clutch and held out her phone, watching my face as she handed it to me.

Bile threatened to surface, hot and acidic in my throat.

The first photo was from the Draft. Our bodies angled toward each other, his head dipped slightly toward mine. My hand was near his arm. It looked…it looked exactly like what it was. Us being too close to be professional.