Page 39 of Faking the Shot
I gape at him. “The big deal? Kaden, this is our chance to show people who you really are.”
His eyes narrow, his jaw tightening as he sits up. “I’m not using my volunteer time as a publicity stunt.”
“It’s not a stunt,” I shoot back, frustration bubbling up. “It’s the truth. You care about this stuff. Why not let people see that?”
“I don’t give a fuck what people think,” he snaps, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
“Well, you should,” I say, my voice blunt and unflinching. “Because right now, people think you’re an arrogant asshole who’s impossible to work with. My job is to change that image and I can’t do it if you don’t help me.”
His brow furrows, and I press on before he can cut me off.
“This isn’t about spinning some fake narrative. It’s about showing the side of you that I’ve seen. The guy who’s competitive but loves his family. The guy who actually gives a shit about something other than himself. You do care, Kaden. This is just a chance to let people see it.”
He stares at me, his dark brown eyes unflinching, like he’s trying to decide if I’m being honest or just manipulating him.
I meet his gaze without flinching. “Do you really want people to think you’re just some guy who scores goals and pisses everyone off? Or do you want them to see the real you?”
“That’s the thing, I don’t care,” he says.
“But you have to give some fucks,” I argue.
For a moment, the helicopter is quiet except for the low thrum of the blades. Then he exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll do it. But only because it’s for Noelle’s nonprofit—not because I give a shit about public opinion.”
“Deal.” I sit back, letting a triumphant smile spread across my face. “But don’t be surprised when people start calling you Boston’s favorite care bear.”
“I’m not a fucking care bear. Though, I do care if you go bare, baby,” he says, his tone calm but loaded with intent.
“You’re impossible,” I state. “I’m going to make sure you come out as a hero,” I state.
“Don’t push it, Holiday,” he growls, though there’s the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. “Just don’t expect me to like the publicity.”
The rest of the helicopter ride, I rack my brain for ideas to fix Kaden’s image—something authentic, something real. The man might be an unrepentant grump, but he’s got layers, and if the world could see even a fraction of what I’ve glimpsed, his reputation might shift. By the time we land, I feel no closer to a solution than when we took off.
The helicopter door opens, and my stomach twists. Paparazzi swarm the private terminal, cameras flashing relentlessly, voices overlapping as they shout their questions.
“Kaden, is it true you’re fighting your teammates?”
“Round two of the brawl?”
“Is it true you’re being transferred again?”
“Who’s the woman? Is she your side piece?”
“Why was she hiding all this time?”
Kaden’s jaw tightens as he steps out, his body tense, his scowl so intense it practically warns everyone to back the hell off. He places a firm hand on my lower back, guiding me forward with a grip that says, Stay close.
“Don’t stray,” he mutters under his breath, his voice low and rough, the command unmistakable.
His broad shoulders act as a barrier, shielding me from the relentless cameras and the shouted questions. The warmth of his hand against me sends a surprising thread of reassurance through the noise.
I glance up at him and realize what needs to happen. Before I can second-guess myself, I step in front of him, reaching up like I’m adjusting his collar.
“Time for the show,” I whisper.
“What are you—” The rest of his question is cut off as I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his.
