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She glances over to a young blonde woman who nods in agreement. My stomach churns, but only because I wish it was Nila sitting there. Again.
I wish I could go back and redo everything with her—just to have her close again. The ache is troubling, and now I’m certain that I’m swearing off women forever.
I don’t want to go through this again.
“Cam?” Frankie furrows her brows as she lingers at the head of the table. “You okay?” Her comment draws the attention of everyone sitting there, and Tucker nudges me.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, forcing a smile. “Just mentally on the ice rink right now.”
Lies.
Mentally, I’m under the stars with Nila.
“That’s a good place for you to be,” someone else echoes.
I nod my head, trying to ignore the burning in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, for sure.”
“I think you’ve been doing great with your posts, too,” Frankie says, leaning against the table and grabbing my attention. “You’ve really upped your game, and I like to see all the engagement you’ve given your fans.”
“I think I’m getting the hang of it.” A fake smile stays plastered on my face. Like it’s not bothering me. Like I don’t mind posting my life on the internet. Like I’m not doing it solely in hopes Nila sees it and decides that she misses me.
“Good. I think that pretty much wraps up this meeting. Sarah will handle the engagement on your profiles, and we may even let her start posting on your behalf, if that works for you. It’ll relieve the pressure—but feel free to post anything you’d like as well.”
Nodding, I push myself back from the table, grateful that the meeting is over. It’s annoying that we have to even get together to talk about something that could be sent in an email... But whatever. I get it. They like the privacy of in-person meetings. No one can hack into that.
Though I’m sure there are ways.
“Hey, slow down,” Tucker calls after me as I push through the conference room door and head for the exit. I just want to get out of here. It reminds me too much of Nila.
“Sorry,” I mumble as he falls in step beside me.
“You know, as your lawyer, I received a copy of the NDA you signed at the retreat,” he begins, his voice low. “It gives some details about an incident that happened.”
“Can’t talk about it,” I mutter, exiting the building and welcoming the warm sun on my skin.
“Uh, yeah, you can talk about it with me, Cam. How did you punch someone and then somehow get approved to leave the program right afterward?”
I eye him. “Probably the connections.”
“That makes no sense. I hope no one breaks these agreements, but sheesh, I saw that it was Samuel McCall. That’s crazy.”
“I don’t even know who the guy is.”
Tucker gapes at me. “He’s one of the most sought-after lawyers in the country—he’s represented half of Hollywood. If you were a lawyer, you’d be just as flabbergasted as me.”
“Well, good thing I’m not a lawyer.”
“Okay.” Tucker draws out a long breath. His hand falls on my shoulder as we make it about halfway through the parking lot. “I think it’s time for us to talk, man. Ever since you made it back, you’ve been acting happy, but ... not the same kind of happy that I’ve seen before. It’s fake. I can tell.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I snap, spinning around to face him. His expression morphs to surprise, and I instantly feel guilty. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just ... I don’t want to talk about it. It’s been a lot.”
“But Lacey Reign has been silenced.”
I shrug. “I don’t even care.”
“Well, that’s good, but everyone else does. It’s been a huge relief that she’s not still preaching that narrative.”
“Woopty doo,” I say flatly. “Grand. That’s just grand.”
