Page 178 of Beautiful Collide

None of them have been right for us, so we’ve been sneaking around in the meantime, hoping this mess doesn’t blow up in our faces.

“Hudson!” someone shouts my name, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s coming from a reporter at the far-right corner of the room. He’s got brown hair and has a voice that looks too deep to be coming from him. He stares at me before speaking again. “Let’s talk about your plans for next season. Do you think the Saints can pull off another Cup win?”

I flash a grin, leaning into the mic. “We’ve got a great team, great chemistry. If we stay focused, I think we’ve got a real shot.”

Safe. Easy. Next question.

Another reporter chimes in, asking about the charity event the team just pledged to. Finally, a question that matters.Took long enough.

It’s why we’re all here, after all.

I let Mason take it, nodding along as he talks about the importance of giving back.

And then it happens. “Hudson, one more question.”

The voice is calm, almost casual, but it makes every nerve in my body go on high alert. I glance at the reporter—an older guy with a sharp suit and a sharper smile. He adjusts his glasses, his gaze locking on to mine like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Can you tell us how married life is treating you?”

The room goes dead silent.

My lungs burn, and it feels hard to breathe. It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. Every reporter, every teammate, every PR staff member turns to me like I just grew a second head.

My heart slams against my rib cage, but I force my face to stay neutral, even as my mind races.

What the hell? How does he know?

Mason lets out a bark of laughter, breaking the tension. “Hudson? Married? Yeah, right. He can’t even commit to a pizza topping.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the room, but it’s short-lived.

Fuck.

The reporter doesn’t seem to be buying it. He keeps his eyes on me, his smirk widening.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he presses. “You’re married.”

“Excuse me?” My voice sounds too tight.Keep it together, Wilde.

Don’t give anything away.

“Let me rephrase,” he says smoothly. “Is there any tension in the locker room now that you’re married to a teammate’s sister?”

The silence that follows is somehow louder than the laughter from before. Everyone in the room but the shithead asking the questions is frozen in place, staring at me like I’ve just confessed to a crime.

“What?” Dane’s voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and demanding.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. The reporter raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s unleashed.

“So, Dane . . .” He turns his attention away from me and onto Dane. “Are you happy for your sister and Hudson?”

Dane blinks, his jaw tightening. He looks at me, then back at the reporter. “I—what—what the hell are you talking about?”

“All right, that’s enough,” our PR manager snaps, stepping forward and cutting the reporter off. “This press conference is over. Thank you all for coming.”

The room erupts into chaos again, but this time, it’s worse than before.

Reporters are shouting questions, cameras are flashing, and I still can’t get my brain to function.

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