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It’s supposed to be real.
I force myself to focus on Danny as he plays a few hesitant notes, nodding in encouragement. “That’s it. Now try it again, but slower.”
He grins, determination lighting up his face as he follows my lead. The moment should feel good—it usually does—but the weight of the cameras pressing in around us makes my skin crawl.
Lacey is still watching me. I can feel it.
And the longer I ignore her, the tenser the air between us gets.
After twenty minutes of going through scales with Danny and helping some of the other kids with their drums, Rachel finally steps in, her voice carrying across the room.
“Alright, I think we got some great footage! Thank you so much to Family First for letting us be here today.”
I grind my teeth so hard I swear I feel something crack.
The kids barely notice when the crew starts packing up. They’re still too wrapped up in the instruments, too excited about the time they just spent learning new notes and rhythms.
I let out a slow breath, my fists flexing at my sides, waiting—waiting—until the last camera disappears through the front doors.
Only then do I turn—and let myself look at her.
Lacey stands by the piano, arms wrapped around herself. She knows what’s coming.
Good. Because I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry with her before.
She starts to speak, but I shake my head sharply. “Outside.”
Her brows pull together. “Nate, let me just—“
“Now, Lacey.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to.
Her face pales as she swallows, then nods once.
Without another word, I turn and walk out the back door into the open-air courtyard behind the facility. The moment she steps out after me, I run a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
“You knew.” My voice is low, rough, and barely contained. “You know how I feel about this place. What it means to me.”
Lacey flinches, but she squares her shoulders. “Rachel said it would be good press for the organization, Nate. She said it would bring in—“
“I don’t give a shit what Rachel said!”
My voice echoes against the walls, sharp and furious.
She sucks in a breath, eyes flashing. “I do! This wasn’t just for me, Nate—it was for the kids! For the foundation you represent! It could help them get—“
“They already get what they need.” My jaw tightens, my breath heavy. “You think a couple of cameras will make a difference?”
She crosses her arms. “Not everyone has millions to donate at the snap of their fingers, Nate. I thought I was helping.”
That hits deep, but I don’t let it show.
Instead, I take a step closer, my voice quieter now but no less sharp. “What I do for this place, for these kids—it’s real, Lacey. It’s personal. I don’t need a fucking camera crew to prove that.”
Her face softens, but I shake my head, stepping back before I let myself fall for it.
“You should’ve told me.” My voice is raw, rough. “You should’ve told me, Lacey.”
She presses her lips together, her hands clenching at her sides. “I tried. I texted you—“