Chapter 75: Damage Control 2
Rhys
"What the hell is wrong with this tie?" I growled at my reflection, my fingers fumbling with the brown tie around my collar.
It felt like a noose, tightening with every breath I took. "Ugh!" I groaned as I yanked at the knot again, but it sat crooked, just like the mess my life had become.
Behind me, Elton was pacing with a paper in his hand, reading aloud from it. "Focus, Rhys," he muttered as he stopped in front of me. "You’re going out there in five minutes. The narrative is simple: you were helping a family friend. It was an act of chivalry that got blown out of proportion."
I barely heard him. He kept talking, but my mind was stuck in a loop, replaying the scene in the boardroom over and over again.
I kept seeing Kayden’s face when I’d told him he’d turned my life into a circus. I saw the way his breath had hitched when I’d snapped that I hated myself for ever falling for someone like him, and that I regretted every moment because I had spoken out of turn, and I knew it.
I had been so blinded by anger after finding out that Kayden was an omega, that he had lied to me, and I had aimed all that venom at him, knowing somewhere deep down that he might have had a reason for doing so.
I remembered the way Kayden’s legs had looked like they were ready to give out beneath him. I remembered the silence that followed me out of that room, thick and accusing.
I wanted to run back. I wanted to find him in that soundproof room, pull him into my arms, and tell him the truth, that I was a coward who lashed out because I was scared.
Scared that he was an omega.
"Are you even listening?" Elton stepped closer and held the paper up in front of me.
I still didn’t look at him.
"This is for your own good and Kayden’s," he continued. "The brands are watching because you’re supposed to look like the perfect duo. That’s what you’re signed for. If you don’t look like the perfect duo out there, the agency is going to start cutting losses, and the one at risk is Kayden. If you care about him, then think about his future. He’s new. You’re not. You’re Avalanche family."
"And Kayden isn’t?" I demanded, clenching my fists tightly. "Why should he take the fall for my issues?"
Elton shrugged. "You already know the answer to that, Rhys. You two are different."
I inhaled deeply, remembering Kayden’s words. Maybe he was right about everything. My family name made it easy for me to stay on Avalanche, even when I wished it didn’t.
I wanted to be known as a talented player, not just as a Calder.
"Your hand has been on that tie ever since you finished dressing," Elton pointed out as he stepped closer and finally fixed the knot for me. "Right. This looks good, and we don’t have any time to waste." He checked his watch. "We have to go now. Kayden is already on standby."
At the mention of Kayden’s name again, my heart started pounding hard, really hard. I could hear it in my ears. Guilt built inside me, heavy and suffocating, knowing I was about to face him again.
I inhaled deeply and stood, walking behind Elton as he led me out of the room.
We passed through the heavy double doors into the backstage assembly area. The air there was cooler, humming with the static of walkie-talkies and the distant, muffled roar of the crowd outside the dome.
Then I saw him.
Kayden was standing opposite Coach Reddick and Miller, and they looked like they were in the middle of a heated conversation.
Coach Reddick glanced in my direction and beckoned me over.
"Rhys, finally," Coach Reddick said, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged space. He stepped toward me, gripping my shoulder with a force that wasn’t exactly friendly. "Have you read through the statement? Do you have the talking points down?"
"I have them," I said, then looked at Kayden, whose head was lowered as he nodded along to whatever Miller was saying.
"See that?" Reddick pointed toward the corner of the room, where a monitor showed a live feed of the boardroom.
Thomas Brown was sitting there, his arms crossed over his chest, his brown eyes staring straight into the camera as if he could see right through us. "The CEO is watching this live. He’s not looking for an apology, he’s looking for a performance. You two go out there and convince them there’s no one else in the world you trust more than each other."
He checked the time and signaled to the stagehands. "It’s time. Do your best. The future of the Avalanche depends on the next twenty minutes." He tapped my shoulder once.
I nodded and stepped toward Kayden. He finally looked up, but not at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the stage ahead.
"Hey, man. Do your best," Miller whispered as I walked past him.
I said nothing, only nodded, and joined Kayden.
The second I stood beside him, I felt his entire body stiffen. He didn’t move away, but he became rigid, like a statue, his breath hitching in a way only I could hear.
The air between us crackled with everything I hadn’t said, with apologies I was too proud to give.
"Act natural," I muttered, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "Pretend, Kayden. Just like you’ve been doing this whole time."
I shouldn’t have said it, but it was the only way I knew how to get a reaction out of him.
Before he could respond, I reached out and wrapped my hand firmly around his waist.
I felt the sharp intake of his breath as I pulled him flush against my side, forcing an intimacy that felt like a lie.
I leaned down, my lips grazing the shell of his ear as if I were sharing a private, loving secret.
"Stay close," I whispered harshly.
Kayden instinctively tried to pull away, his muscles tensing against my palm, but I tightened my grip, dragging him even closer.
"Don’t," I warned under my breath. "Remember what we’re doing. Remember what’s at stake for you if you don’t play this part."
Kayden’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, I saw a flash of that old defiance in his eyes before it dulled into painful resignation.
"I know," he whispered back.
"Good. Because your future depends on it," I said, then looked toward the stage manager, who gave us the signal as the curtains began to sweep open.
I didn’t let go of his waist. If anything, I pulled him even closer as we stepped out into the blinding white light of the auditorium.
I switched instantly from the frown I’d been wearing to a practiced smile.
As we stepped onto the stage, we were hit with relentless strobe lighting that made my head spin. Dozens of reporters leaned forward, recorders raised high like weapons.
The frantic clicking of shutters filled the room, and for a moment, the roar of the press was deafening as they murmured among themselves, waiting for the perfect duo.