Page 10

ALDER

Lena's been living in my guest room for three days, and somehow it already feels like she's always been here.

This morning, I found her and Gordie sharing a piece of toast on the patio, watching the sunrise over the river.

She didn't know I saw them—I was heading out for an early workout—but the sight lodged somewhere beneath my ribs and hasn't budged since.

Now I'm sprawled on the couch, scrolling through my phone while she showers after her day at work. I've been avoiding social media since the kiss cam disaster, but Brian texted that I should "take the temperature of public opinion." Whatever that means.

I open FaceSpace and instantly regret it.

*Fury Defenseman's Love Life Melts Down with Season*

*Who Is PR Guru Adam Lawson's Mystery Man?*

And then, more recently:

*Sources Confirm: Fury Team Dentist Also a Victim in Kiss Cam Affair*

I'm still staring at the screen when Lena emerges from the hallway, her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing sweatpants and a faded university T-shirt.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she says, peering over my shoulder. "Oh."

She snatches the phone from my hands and scrolls through the articles, her expression darkening with each swipe.

"'Sources confirm,'" she reads aloud. "'Insiders say.' Who are these people, and why do they care so much about our private lives?"

"Welcome to professional sports," I say, taking back my phone. "Where your humiliation is just content for the masses."

She sits beside me, maintaining a careful distance between us. We've established an unspoken choreography of proximity over these past few days—close enough for comfortable conversation, yet far enough to avoid accidental touches.

“This is fun, though,” I show her my phone. I had a case of dick-shaped pasta delivered to Adam’s apartment building and required a signature. The courier took a terrific picture of him looking absolutely horrified.

She grabs the phone again. "Why didn’t I think of anything like that?"

"Stick with me, Lena. I’ll teach you all the things.”

She groans. "Great. So now not only am I the pathetic woman whose boyfriend cheated on her with someone else’s man, but I'm also failing at our payback project."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm the guy who drove his boyfriend into another man's arms," I offer. "The internet has theories about my... abilities."

"That's ridiculous," she says automatically, then flushes when I raise an eyebrow. "I just mean, obviously, that's not why Adam cheated. He's just an asshole."

"Yeah." I stare at the ceiling, thinking. "But maybe we can use this. "

"Use what?"

"The speculation." I sit up straighter. "What if we show up somewhere we know Adam will be? Get the media talking even more."

Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "You mean like our original revenge plan, but with bonus public attention?"

"Exactly." I grab my laptop from the coffee table. "Adam has a big client event tomorrow night—the Hot Metal women's soccer match. He's been posting about it all week on his work account."

"And you want us to... what? Crash it?"

"Not crash. Attend. Very visibly."

Lena bites her lip. “I’m not really cool with the visibly part…”

I nod. “Okay, I can see that. But!” I pull up the Hot Metal schedule. "My cousin's girlfriend plays for them. We were all planning to go anyway before..."

"Before your boyfriend and my boyfriend decided to hook up on national television?" she supplies dryly.

"Local television," I correct with a grin. "The point is, Adam will be working. Schmoozing clients and managing media. And if we show up..."

"It'll throw him off his game." Lena's smile grows slowly. "And create exactly the kind of distraction he hates in a professional setting."

"Plus, I was going to go regardless to support Cara."

She hesitates. "Won't that mess up the game for the women, though? If there's a media circus?"

I hadn't considered that. "I don't want to ruin Cara's match."

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad," Lena muses, as if she’s trying to talk herself into it. "I mean, women's soccer could use more attention, right? More tickets sold, more eyes on the players. "

"True." I run a hand through my hair. "And we wouldn't do anything disruptive. Just... exist. Conspicuously."

"How conspicuous are we talking?"

"I'll wear Fury gear, so I'm easy to spot. We get good seats. Maybe we happen to be photographed laughing together." I shrug. "Let people draw their own conclusions."

She considers this and then nods decisively. "Let's do it. Operation Adam Distraction is a go."

"We need a better name than that."

"Operation Soccer Smear?”

I laugh. "Perfect."

On the morning of the match, I wake to the aroma of coffee and the sound of Lena talking on the phone in the kitchen. Her voice is tense in a way I haven't heard before.

"No, Brad, that's not—" A pause. "I'm aware of what people are saying, but—" Another pause, longer this time. "That's really not your concern anymore."

I should go back to my room, give her some privacy. However, something in her tone makes me hesitate.

"I'm not discussing my living arrangements with you," she says firmly. "You gave up the right to opinions about my life when you decided to make out with Adam Lawson on the jumbo screen."

There's a longer silence, and when she speaks again, her voice is ice cold.

"Don't call me again."

I wait a beat before entering the kitchen, giving her time to compose herself. When I round the corner, she's gripping her coffee mug so tightly that her knuckles are white.

"Morning," I say casually, reaching for my mug.

"Morning." She attempts a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Sorry if I woke you. "

"You didn't." I pour coffee, watching her carefully. "Everything okay?"

"People are trolling Brad online." She sets her mug down with a sharp click. "He’s convinced you, and I planned this all somehow. Said we're embarrassing ourselves trying to make him jealous."

"Ah, yes. We orchestrated his cheating as part of our master plan to get attention," I deadpan. "Genius."

That brings a genuine smile from her. "He said, and I quote, ‘all anyone has to do is look at you to realize why I strayed.’”

Something hot and angry flares in my chest. "He actually said that?"

She shrugs, but I can see the hurt beneath her casual demeanor. "It's fine. It's just Brad being Brad."

"It's not fine. It's bullshit." I lean against the counter, facing her directly. A thought occurs to me. I pull out my phone and make sure she can see as I order a 50-pound bag of organic manure to be delivered to their apartment. “It’s a hot day,” I tell her. “Let’s leave a note that it’s fine to drop the package in the doorway.” Lena titters and then laughs long and hard.

I slide my phone into my pocket and point at her.

"For the record, anyone would be lucky to date you. "

She rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of color in her cheeks. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not just saying it." I'm surprised by how strongly I mean it. "You're smart, funny, kind to my weird dog, and you put up with my brothers. That's already more than most people manage."

"Well, when you put it that way," she says with a small laugh. "Clearly, I'm a catch."

"Clearly," I agree, and for a moment, we just look at each other, and something unspoken passes between us. Then Gordie nudges my leg, breaking the spell .

"Someone needs his breakfast," Lena says, turning away quickly.

"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Big day today. Operation Soccer Smear.”

"Should we coordinate outfits?" she asks, seemingly grateful for the subject change. "For maximum conspicuousness."

"I'll wear my Fury jersey." I feed Gordie while thinking. "Do you have anything team-related? I might have an extra jersey you could borrow."

"I doubt your clothes would fit me," she says, that familiar self-deprecation creeping in.

"You'd be surprised.” I glance at her, suddenly imagining the way my jersey would look draped around her boobs. "But you could wear whatever makes you comfortable. The point is for us to cause chaos, not to dress alike."

She nods, but I can tell she's still thinking about it. "I mostly want to keep my name out of it…but I guess that ship has sailed.” Lena releases a groan. “What time should we head over?"

We should aim to arrive around six-thirty. The match starts at seven, which is prime time for Adam to spot us.

"And we just... sit there? Looking happy?"

"We enjoy the match," I correct. "Cheer for the Hot Metal. Eat overpriced nachos. And if photos happen to be taken of us ignoring the gossip…” I shrug. "That's just a bonus."

Lena smiles a mischievous glint in her eye. "I can't wait to see his face."

When we arrive, the stadium is already buzzing.

I'm wearing my game-day Fury jersey with a baseball cap pulled low, but it's really just for show.

In Pittsburgh, I'm recognized pretty much everywhere, especially during hockey season.

I sign a few soccer programs for kids on the way in, and Lena snaps some pics for excited fans.

Lena walks beside me in jeans and a black Hot Metal T-shirt she found at the team store on our way in. "There are a lot of people here," she murmurs as we make our way to our seats.

"Game's been promoted heavily," I explain. "But even though you look damn fine, I think the people are more focused on the field. Hot Metal's having a good season, and Cara's one of their star players."

Lena’s lips tip up in a small smile, and I sense her relax after my compliment. "Is Cara really dating your cousin?"

"Yeah, Wes is on the men’s team. He’s got an away match, though." I guide her through the crowd with a light touch on the small part of her back. "My family's pretty serious about soccer, too. We're athletic overachievers."

"I noticed," she says dryly.

We find our seats—great ones, offering clear views of both the field and the VIP section where Adam will be working. I scan the crowd but don't spot him yet.