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“Is it that bad?” I ask.

“Yes.” I shrink back into the chair. “It makes a weak link in the team, puts you at risk, not to mention how it would look to the public. It stops, now.” T jabs a finger at Trey. “You know what happened the last time you bent the rules.” I turn to Trey. His features are filled with remorse, guilt. “I will not let you sideline this team again. You two end today.”

“Not that it matters.” Emotions clog my throat. Tears well, stinging my eyes. “Nothing matters. It's over. How can I face the public again? They know I lied.”

Trey leans a shoulder against the chair, focusing on the carpet.

“I am a fraud,” I whisper, losing all restraint on the tears.

“But you're not,” Trey mutters. “Everything is about perception. They only have the side Shawn gave them.” He glances up from the floor, eyes locking with my questioning gaze.

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips.

Oh no. This could be brilliant or terrifying.

“So, we give them yours. I need something to write on,” he says, shoving off the floor and striding away. At the door, he turns, excited energy pulsing off him. “Get dressed in your normal stuff, not the fancy dresses Kyle makes you wear in public. Minimal makeup.” His gaze flicks to my unruly hair. “Might want to put a little work into that though. It's a mess, Mess.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask, pushing up from the chair.

“Turn the tide.”

Only a miracle sprinkled with unicorn blood could turn this clusterfuck around.

Which begs the question: What in the hell is he planning?

Chapter Twenty-One

Randi

Itug down the hem of my green V-neck sweater below the waistband only for it to pop right back up. Glancing out the glass doors to the mob of reporters, I swipe my sweaty palms down the sides of my dark-wash jeans. Like Trey instructed an hour ago, I’m normal Randi. Not the perfect Political Barbie Kyle always demands me to be in public. From the older sweater to my Wranglers and scuffed boots, I'm me. Still fancier then Randi 1.0 but not nearly the obnoxious sparkle of Randi 2.0.

So what does that make this version, Randi 1.5 or Randi 3.0?

Debatable for sure.

“You think this will work?” I ask over my shoulder to where T and Trey huddle with the rest of the team. Several came in on their day off to be here for me. Never in my life have I had this much support. It strengthens my resolve to get this right. My one shot to correct the damage Shawn did by leaking my background to the media. We don't know for certain it was him, of course, but I wouldn’t put it past that conniving asshole

“It has to work, Mess.”

I turn my attention back to the glass doors.

Due to the size of the University of Texas campus, Taeler is able to lie low until after the press conference, thank goodness. Still, T called in extra security to watch her until the story’s initial sensation wears off.

Which it will, hopefully.

“Ready, guys?”

“Ready,” the team announces in unison behind me.

I choke back the building tears. Without these men, one in particular, I couldn't get through this shit show.

A blast of bitter wind slashes against my cheeks, blowing my loose hair from one shoulder to the other. I suppress a shudder as I step deeper into the mass of reporters, all yelling my name and demanding answers while cameras snap.

I hold up a hand, hoping it’s enough to quiet the crowd.

It’s not.