Chapter 5 Public Execution
Ethan’s POV:
I didn’t sleep.
Not even close.
Every time I closed my eyes, Damien’s face appeared immediately.
The kiss.
The way he looked at me afterward.
The terrifying part wasn’t that I remembered it.
It was that part of me wanting to do it again.
My apartment smelled like stale whiskey and regret by morning.
Sunlight pushed through the blinds in thin sharp lines directly into my skull. My phone hadn’t stopped vibrating for hours notifications, missed calls, interview requests, league emails, angry messages from management, concerned texts from teammates.
And buried somewhere between all of them:
Damien Cross.
Unknown Number calling..we need to talk before the press conference.
I stared at the message too long, then locked my phone without answering.
Absolutely not.
I dragged myself out of bed and headed toward the kitchen, wincing slightly when pain shot through my ribs from last night’s collision. My reflection in the microwave looked exactly how I felt exhausted, bruised, unraveling.
Perfect.
The television in the living room was already running muted sports coverage.
Bad idea.
I looked anyway.
Huge mistake,my face filled the screen instantly.
Then Damien’s.
Then the replay.
Again.
And again.
Locker room footage.
The shove.
The screaming.
And then…
The kiss.
Jesus Christ.
The sports anchor spoke rapidly beneath flashing headlines:
RIVALS OR LOVERS?
HOCKEY’S BIGGEST SCANDAL
CROSS & RYDER UNDER LEAGUE REVIEW
I grabbed the remote and killed the television instantly.
Silence crashed into the apartment, my chest felt tight again.
This didn’t feel real.
None of it.
A knock slammed against my apartment door hard enough to startle me.
I froze.
Another knock.
“Ethan,” Noah’s voice called. “Open the damn door.”
I groaned quietly and unlocked it.
Noah took one look at me and sighed.
“You look terrible.”
“Good morning to you too.”
He stepped inside carrying coffee and exactly the kind of judgmental energy I didn’t need before noon.
“You ignored twenty-seven calls.”
“I was busy spiraling.”
“I noticed.”
He handed me coffee anyway.
I accepted it immediately.
Because despite the criticism, Noah always showed up.
That made something guilty twist inside my chest.
“You seen the internet?” he asked carefully.
“I’d rather die.”
“That bad, huh?”
I shot him a flat look.
Noah rubbed a hand down his face before sitting on the couch.
“The league’s losing its mind.”
“Shocking.”
“Coach Daniels definitely screamed himself into another blood pressure problem.”
“That one’s less shocking.”
Noah didn’t laugh.
His expression stayed tense.
“That footage is everywhere, Ethan.”
I looked away.
“I know.”
“No, I mean everywhere. Sports media. Gossip blogs. Fan edits. TikTok compilations. Somebody slowed the kiss down and added dramatic music.”
I nearly choked on my coffee.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
Fantastic.
Exactly what every athlete dreams of.
My humiliation set to romantic background music.
Noah leaned forward slightly.
“There’s more.”
“Somehow I knew you were gonna say that.”
“The league scheduled a press conference for noon.”
My stomach dropped immediately.
“What?”
“You and Damien together.”
“No.”
“It’s mandatory.”
“Absolutely not.”
Noah gave me a look.
“The league doesn’t care what you want right now.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
This couldn’t actually be happening.
Twenty-four hours ago my biggest problem was losing the championship.
Now I was apparently starring in hockey’s most unhinged romance scandal.
My phone buzzed again on the counter.
This time I checked it.
Sofia Laurent.
I almost ignored it out of principle.
Almost.
“What?” I answered flatly.
“Thank God,” Sofia snapped immediately. “I was beginning to think you drowned yourself in alcohol.”
“Still considering it.”
“Cute. Be dressed and downstairs in forty minutes.”
I blinked.
“…Why?”
“You seriously think the league’s letting you arrive at the press conference alone?”
“I can drive myself.”
“No,” she said sharply. “You absolutely cannot.”
I rubbed my temple slowly.
“I don’t need babysitting.”
“You kissed Damien Cross on camera after assaulting him during championship finals. You need supervision.”
Noah snorted loudly from the couch.
Traitor.
“I’m not riding with Damien,” I said immediately.
A pause.
Then Sofia answered carefully, “That’s unfortunate.”
My stomach sank.
“No.”
“The car will arrive in forty minutes.”
“Sofia.”
“Try not to punch him this time.”
She hung up.
I stared at my phone in horror.
Noah looked deeply entertained now.
“Oh, this is gonna be catastrophic.”
“I hate everyone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I dragged both hands through my hair violently.
There was no universe where putting Damien and me in the same car was a good idea.
Especially not after last night.
Because the worst part wasn’t the scandal.
It wasn’t the media.
It wasn’t even the kiss itself.
It was the fact that Damien looked at me afterward like he wanted answers I didn’t have.
And somewhere deep down—
I wanted them too.
Forty minutes later, I regretted existing.
The black SUV waiting outside my apartment looked expensive enough to buy emotional damage professionally.
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Damien Cross sat inside already dressed in a dark tailored suit like he stepped straight out of a luxury watch advertisement instead of a public disaster.
Of course he did.
His bruised jaw was visible beneath the morning light.
My fault.
The realization hit annoyingly hard.
Gray eyes lifted slowly toward me.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Dangerously focused.
The atmosphere inside the SUV tightened instantly.
Sofia sat across from him looking one inconvenience away from homicide.
“Get in,” she ordered.
I considered walking into traffic instead.
Then climbed inside.
The door shut behind me with heavy finality.
Silence swallowed the car immediately.
Damien smelled expensive.
Clean cologne.
Cold air.
Something sharp underneath.
It irritated me how aware of it I became instantly.
Sofia looked between us carefully.
“Ground rules,” she said. “No fighting. No sarcasm. No emotional outbursts.”
I laughed once.
“So basically no personality.”
“Ethan.”
I leaned back against the seat.
Across from me, Damien hadn’t looked away once.
God.
That was getting difficult to ignore.
“What?” I snapped finally.
His gaze stayed steady.
“You didn’t answer my message.”
Sofia closed her eyes briefly like she already regretted this ride.
“I didn’t know we were texting now,” I muttered.
“You should’ve answered.”
Something about his tone made heat crawl beneath my skin instantly.
Not angry.
Not demanding.
Certain.
Like he expected me to listen to him.
I hated how much that affected me.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I shot back.
A flicker crossed Damien’s face.
There and gone.
Then quietly:
“No. You don’t.”
The response caught me off guard.
Because for once—
Damien sounded tired.
The car fell silent again.
Outside, reporters already crowded near the arena building ahead.
Camera flashes exploded even from a distance.
Like sharks smelling blood in water.
Sofia straightened immediately.
“Remember,” she warned sharply, “this press conference is about damage control.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“Meaning neither of you say anything stupid.”
Damien glanced toward the window.
Too calm.
That somehow annoyed me more.
“How do you do that?” I muttered before thinking.
His eyes shifted back toward me.
“Do what?”
“Act like none of this affects you.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Sofia looked like she wanted to disappear.
Damien held my gaze for a long moment before answering quietly.
“Who said it doesn’t?”
My pulse stumbled.
The SUV stopped outside the arena.
And instantly chaos exploded outside the windows.
Reporters surged forward.
Fans screamed.
Cameras flashed violently.
My heartbeat kicked harder.
This was insane.
Absolutely insane.
Sofia opened the door first.
“Ready?”
No.
Not even remotely.
But before I could answer, Damien stepped out beside me.
The crowd erupted instantly.
Questions slammed toward us from every direction.
“Ethan! Damien! Are you together?”
“Was the kiss staged?”
“How long has this relationship been happening?”
“Did the rivalry start as attraction?”
Flashbulbs exploded across Damien’s face.
Across mine.
Too loud.
Too hot.
Too close.
I felt irritation rising fast beneath my skin.
Then suddenly.
A hand brushed lightly against my lower back.
Steady.
Controlled.
Grounding.
Damien.
The contact lasted barely a second.
But it stopped me from completely losing control.
And somehow that terrified me more than the cameras did.
