Page 106 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

“A vague ass text. You should have known I’d never agree to this. Instead, you let Rachel push you into it anyway.”

She exhales sharply, her frustration bubbling over. “Why do you have to make everything so black and white, Nate? Why can’t you see that this—“ She gestures back toward the building. “This—wasn’t a betrayal? That I was trying to do something good?”

I stare at her.

At the way her chest rises and falls. At the way her eyes darken when she’s frustrated, at the way she believes what she’s saying.

And that’s what hurts me the most.

She actually thought she was doing the right thing.

But all I can see is that she didn’t know me well enough to know that I would oppose this.

I shake my head, the fight draining out of me. “You don’t get it.”

Her expression twists. “Then make me understand!”

I drag a hand down my face, my pulse still hammering. “You can’t understand, Lacey. You don’t know what it’s like growing up the way these kids do—knowing that no one’s coming to save you. No one’s coming to fix your life. And the last thing they need is a bunch of people with cameras pretending to give a damn when they’ll all be gone tomorrow.”

Her face falls, her lips slightly parting like she wants to say something—but nothing comes. Instead, her chin trembles just enough for me to notice before she presses her mouth into a thin line, rapidly blinking as if trying to keep herself together.

I try never to talk about this—Not with anyone. How it felt never to have enough…

But it’s out now. The anger, the exhaustion, the reason why Family First is the one place I never wanted turned into a PR stunt.

For a second, she just stands there.

Then—softly, carefully—she steps forward.

“Nate...”

I exhale, shaking my head, my jaw tight, and my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears.

“I need space right now, Lacey.” The words come out rough, quieter than before, but no less final. My hands clench at my sides, the urge to reach for her battling with the anger still boiling inside me.

I see the flicker of hurt cross her face, her lips parting as if to protest, but I turn away before she can say anything. If I stay, I might say something I’ll regret.

Her breath catches. “What?”

I take another step back, the space between us stretching. “I just... I need time to cool off.”

Her eyes search mine, a flicker of something uncertain crossing her face.

Even though I can see the hurt in her expression, she nods.

I turn before I change my mind and storm to my car, barely registering the way my hands are shaking. The air feels thick, suffocating, pressing against my chest with every step. I yank the door open and slide inside, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. I don’t start the engine right away. I just sit there, breathing hard, staring straight ahead as the heat of the moment lingers in my veins.

And as I sit in the car, my stomach twists in a way I don’t like. I tell myself this is what I need—space, distance, a moment to breathe before I say something I can’t take back.

But deep down, another thought gnaws at me, sharp and relentless. What if this isn’t just space? What if this is the beginning of the end? What if when I finally cool off, we both realize the differences between us are just too big, too ingrained to ever really work?

What if this fight isn’t just a bump in the road but a sign of something bigger, something we can’t fix?

I slam the car into drive, my mind racing faster than the engine. Every instinct screams at me to go back, to fix this, but I can’t. Not when the betrayal sits this heavy in my chest.

The worst part? I get it. I get why she thought this was a good idea. Lacey lives in a world of cameras and publicity, where every good deed needs to be documented, shared, proven. Sheprobably thought she was helping—bringing attention to a cause that matters to me.

But that’s the problem.

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