Chapter 31

Alex POV

There’s only one place I can go.

I don’t even think. I just drive. The second I pull away from the café, my body moves on instinct. Hands gripping the wheel like it might tear away from me if I let go. My foot presses down harder than it should, the engine growling beneath me as if it feels the same fury I do.

Trees blur past on either side. I cut off roads I don’t recognize. Head somewhere remote. Somewhere empty. Somewhere only Cal would know to look. I don’t have my phone. I left it at home on charge. I knew Cal would grab it, just like he always does when I lose it. He knows where I’ll be. He’ll show.

But right now, I need space. Air. I need to not exist.

The further I drive, the worse the feeling in my chest gets. It’s not anger. Not just anger, anyway. It’s betrayal. It’s grief. It’s disbelief pressing down like my ribs are collapsing. I keep seeing her face. Not the one that cried when I kissed her. Not the one curled beside me in bed, whispering that she hadn’t thought about Gavin at all. Not the one in the shower, naked, laughing softly when I told her we should just tell the team.

No. The face I keep seeing is the one from the café.

The moment she didn’t answer.

That tiny pause.

That hesitation.

That was the moment I knew. Not when Cal dropped the newspaper on the table. Not when she begged me to listen. It was when she looked at me and didn’t say no right away. Like she didn’t have a lie ready. Like she didn’t expect to be caught.

I jerk the steering wheel too hard and the tires screech against the gravel shoulder. The car lurches, kicking up dust, but I don’t stop. I speed forward again, like if I go fast enough, I can outrun the sound of her voice saying it wasn’t meant to be released.

But she still wrote it.

That’s the part I can’t get around.

She wrote it.

She sat down, opened her laptop, and chose to piece together every confession I gave her. Everything I kept hidden from the world, she turned into a story. Even if she hit delete after, even if she convinced herself it was just a draft, it doesn’t change what she did.

It doesn’t change that I trusted her.

My hands start to shake. I fist my palm against the steering wheel and curse loud enough to make my throat burn. The sound tears out of me and fills the car like a storm. The car veers again and I bring it to a hard stop on the side of a narrow, wooded road.

I sit there for a second. Breathing like I’ve been punched. Then I curl forward and press my forehead to the steering wheel. My jaw clenches so tightly it aches, and I start to shake harder.

She said she loved me.

She looked me in the eyes and said she didn’t want this to be just once. That she couldn’t walk away from me.

And I believed her.

I believed every goddamn word.

I punch the wheel once. Then again. Then again. I hit it until the horn lets out a strangled bleat and cuts off again. I hit it until the pain shoots up my arm, and I can’t feel my knuckles. I hit it until it feels like the only thing that hasn’t lied to me is the echo of my own fury.

I’m so tired.

Not just physically, though God knows I haven’t slept properly in days. But deep in my bones. In my chest. I’m tired in a way I don’t know how to come back from. Like whatever part of me believed there was still something good in this world just bled out and left nothing behind but smoke.

She wasn’t supposed to be like everyone else.

That was the difference. That was what made it matter. She didn’t look at me like a headline. She didn’t ask questions to use them later. She just sat beside me. Smiled. Bitched about my shirts being too tight. Rolled her eyes and told me she wasn’t going to sleep with me.

Now I don’t know which version was real.

The girl who leaned into me like I was solid ground.

Or the girl who wrote about the fire before it ever started burning.

I start the car again and drive further. The road narrows, gravel turning to dirt. Trees crowd in tighter. The sun is blocked out almost completely now, the branches above forming a canopy that stretches over everything like a secret. It feels like the world is closing in, like even the light doesn’t want to look at me anymore.

I reach the place.

It’s not much. Just an old clearing near a lake, barely marked on any map along with a cabin. Cal and I used to come here when we needed to talk without anyone listening. When we were seventeen, we brought a case of beer and screamed into the dark until our throats gave out. When I found out what my father really did, I drove here and threw rocks into the water until my hands bled.

I pull the car to a stop near the edge of the trees. The lake glimmers behind them, quiet and undisturbed. Like none of this ever touched it. Like it’s still safe here.

I get out of the car.

The silence hits hard. No engines. No cameras. No voices. No one asking for statements. No one staring at me like I’m a ticking time bomb.

Just the wind. The trees. And the weight of everything I can’t take back.

I walk toward the water slowly. My legs feel heavy. My chest aches with every breath. I sink down onto the edge of a rotting old bench and bury my face in my hands.

I didn’t tell her about the mafia.

That’s what keeps circling back. I didn’t tell her that part. I told her about my dad. About how the games were rigged. About how I found out, about how I hated him for it. But I never told her about the people who came after. The ones who decided I was their new investment.

She guessed it. Or someone told her. I don’t know which is worse.

And now it’s out.

Now the article is everywhere. My name is being dragged through headlines again. Only this time, I can’t blame my dad.

This time, I’m the one who threw a game.

I did the thing I swore I would never do.

And I did it for her.

For the girl who said she wouldn’t hurt me. Who said she was done with chasing scandals. Who told me I made her feel seen.

The irony cuts sharper than anything else. I broke every rule I had to protect someone who was already building the story that would destroy me.

I should hate her.

I want to.

But even now, all I can picture is the way she looked curled in my bed. The softness in her voice when she whispered that she hadn’t thought about him at all. The way she kissed me like it hurt. The way she let me touch her without fear.

God, she let me in.

And I let her in too.

Too far.

Too much.

I wipe my face with both hands, dragging them down over my mouth like I’m trying to keep myself from screaming.

I don’t know how to come back from this.

Not from the story. Not from the team finding out. Not from Cal watching me fall apart in public.

But mostly, not from her.

Because no matter how furious I am, no matter how deep the betrayal runs, I know what I felt.

And I know what it cost me.

She told me she didn’t want it to be just once. She told me she was terrified but wanted this anyway. She told me I didn’t have to be perfect.

And still, she chose the story.

Still, she wrote it.

Maybe she regrets it now. Maybe she really did delete it. Maybe her boss went behind her back and published it anyway.

But that means nothing.

Because somewhere along the line, she decided I was worth the risk, and she took it.

I lean back and stare at the sky, what little of it I can see through the trees. It’s grey. Not quite stormy, but heavy enough to feel like something’s coming.

It feels fitting.

Standing up, I walk up to the cabin and unlock the door before stepping inside. I don’t bother turning on the lights or taking off my jacket. I grab the first bottle I see and drop onto the old chair by the window, the silence pressing in like a weight.

I don’t turn on the TV or the radio. I don’t want to hear the news. I don’t want to hear my name or hers or the fucking headlines echoing what I already know.

Instead, I drink. I let the burn claw its way down my throat, again and again, until the edges blur and everything tastes like regret. I sit in the stillness and replay every moment I ever spent with her. The look in her eyes that night on when she told me her past. The way her fingers trembled when I touched her in bed. The sound of her laugh when she thought no one was listening.

And I ask myself, was any of it real?

Was it just acting? Just a performance to draw me in, loosen my guard, make me speak more? Did she already have the headline in her head the night she first met me? Was that the moment she realized she had the perfect story?

I lose myself in the questions for hours. Replaying everything. Torturing myself with every look, every word. Every time I said something I never told anyone else. Every time I touched her and thought she felt it too.

The bottle drains. I find another. I don’t remember standing up. Don’t remember sitting back down. Just the haze. The numbness. The sharp, slicing ache that only seems to deepen with each swallow.

“Hey.”

Cal’s voice comes from behind me, low, quiet. I don’t look at him. I’m standing now, staring into the mirror above the dresser, my eyes bloodshot and hollow. I don’t recognize the man looking back.

“Why?” I whisper, barely hearing myself. “Why the fuck did it happen to me?”

I feel like I can’t breathe. Like there’s a rope around my throat, tightening with every second. The pressure builds, sharp and brutal, until my chest aches from holding it all in.

“She lied.” The words feel toxic in my mouth. “She fucking lied to me, Cal.”

My fist flies before I realize I’ve moved. The mirror shatters, cracking open in a spiderweb of glass before raining down in jagged pieces across the counter. Blood wells up across my knuckles, dripping down my wrist, but I don’t fucking care.

“Alex—” Cal starts, stepping forward.

But I’m gone.

I grab the lamp from the side table and hurl it against the wall. It smashes into pieces, the ceramic exploding, the bulb bursting in a flash of sparks and glass. Still not enough.

“All this time!” I scream, my throat raw. “She climbed into that bed with me last night knowing what she did!”

My voice cracks, breaking under the weight of it. The photo frames on the shelves are next. I slam them down, one after another, the glass shattering beneath my boots as I pace, wild and out of control.

“She knew,” I say again, half to myself, half to the room that feels too small to hold all this rage. “She knew they were going to run the fucking story. She knew they were coming for me, and she didn’t say a goddamn word.”

The chair goes flying next. I don’t even remember kicking it, just the crash, the splinters. My forearm sweeps across the desk, sending pens, bottles, papers, everything crashing to the floor. Chaos. Destruction. A perfect match for what’s tearing me apart inside.

“She didn’t even warn me,” I whisper, the words coming out broken.

Cal stands there, watching me fall apart. I see it in his face, he wants to stop me. Say something. But he doesn’t. He just watches, maybe because he knows there’s no stopping what’s already been set on fire.

I slam both fists into the dresser, the pain finally registering, sharp and hot and real. I let it come. I welcome it.

My legs give out a second later. I crash down to my knees in the middle of the mess I’ve made. Blood smears down my palms, my breath coming in jagged, stuttering gasps. My chest feels like it’s caving in, my ribs too tight to hold the storm anymore.

I sob.

Not just cry. I fucking sob, gut-deep, raw, helpless.

My shoulders shake, my face buried in my bloody hands. “I can’t… I can’t do this—”

The floor creaks.

Then Cal kneels beside me. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t try to fix it. He just wraps his arms around me and pulls me in.

I try to shove him off. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve anything. I’m a fucking idiot who believed the one person who knew exactly how to ruin me.

But he holds on.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, his voice shaking. “I’ve got you, brother.”

Something in me breaks completely.

I collapse into him, all of it pouring out, rage, betrayal, grief. I cry like I did when I was a kid. Like I haven’t let myself cry in years. There’s no dignity left in me. No pride. Just this gaping, open wound where trust used to live.

She knew.

She fucking knew.

And still, she looked me in the eye, told me she wanted me, told me she loved me, and let the world rip me apart the next morning.

She destroyed me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.

Chapter 32

Elsie POV

Maybe I went too far.

No, scratch that. I definitely went too far.

I’m sitting on a narrow bench in a jail cell, the metal cold beneath my legs, the air sharp with disinfectant and something sour that clings to the back of my throat.

My hands are still trembling, the scent of coffee and dust and glass still lingering on my skin, even though they cuffed me and walked me out hours ago.

It all happened so fast. My rage, my boss’s smirk, the crash of glass, the swing of the bat. I can still feel the shock in my arms from the force of it, still hear the shrieks and gasps of my coworkers, the heavy footfalls of security as they dragged me out like a criminal.

But it wasn’t just anger. It was grief. Desperation. A scream without sound that had been building in my chest since the moment Alex looked at me like I was a stranger. Since he stepped back like my touch burned him. Since he told me not to touch him and left.

And now I’m here. In a cell. Because I couldn’t find any other way to make the world hear me.

I curl forward on the bench and bury my face in my hands. My sobs echo through the silence, sharp and raw. My whole body shakes with them. I tried so hard to protect him. I tried so damn hard to do the right thing.

I deleted the story. I sent in the soft one, the version that painted him as something real, something worthy of being seen as more than the son of a scandal.

And I was so sure… so stupidly sure that my boss wouldn’t touch the other one, or find it. That he’d read the piece I submitted, scoff, and call me back into his office to rewrite it.

But instead, he published the other one.

The one I never meant for anyone to see.

The one I wrote when I was scared. Curious. Before I knew Alex the way I do now. Before I understood what kind of pain he’d buried just beneath the surface.

If he hadn’t kissed me that night, if he hadn’t looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that could make the noise stop, maybe I would’ve remembered. Maybe I would’ve checked. Warned him. Told him what I wrote that never should have made it out of my drafts.

But I didn’t. Because I was so caught up in the feeling of him. Of us. Of finally letting myself fall.

Now everything’s in pieces.

A soft knock echoes beyond the bars, and when I look up, Jenny is standing there with wide eyes and an expression caught between horror and pity. I can tell she doesn’t know what to say. No one would.

Her voice is quiet, but still too sharp in the silence. “What did you do?”

I don’t even know how to answer that. My throat aches too much to try. I just shake my head and let out another sob, pressing my palms against my face until the tears smear into my skin.

“Fuck, babes,” she murmurs, her voice softening as she kneels down to meet my eye level. “You’re a mess.”

I choke on a laugh, bitter and wet. “He hates me.”

She blinks. “Your boss? Yeah, no shit. You destroyed his office.”

I close my eyes and grit my teeth, the pain swelling too fast to keep it in. “Not him. Alex.”

The words break something in me again. It’s not just guilt anymore, it’s grief. Grief for something that was just starting to bloom, something fragile and warm and terrifying. And now it’s gone.

Jenny exhales and sits down on the chair just outside my cell, her voice low. “Yeah. I know that too.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s no judgment there. Only tired honesty. “You’re in real trouble, Els. Your boss wants you charged. He wants to keep you in here for as long as he can. Says you vandalized company property, destroyed private items, and assaulted the place.”

My stomach twists. I already knew it. But hearing it out loud makes the reality worse.

“He betrayed me,” I whisper. “He said the job I had—the one I worked for, the one he dangled in front of me for years—was mine now. Because the article was everything he wanted.”

Jenny nods, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then her voice softens again. “My dad’s here. He’s going to try and fix it for you.”

I shake my head slowly, a hollow feeling settling into my bones. “What’s the point?”

Jenny frowns. “What do you mean, what’s the point? You smashed an office with a baseball bat, Elsie. You poured coffee on his laptop. You screamed at him in front of the entire staff. You’re lucky he doesn’t press charges for assault.”

“I don’t care about that,” I say, voice cracking. “I care about Alex. And he thinks I used him. He thinks I wrote that story on purpose, just to ruin him.”

Jenny hesitates, her voice cautious. “Did you?”

“No.” My answer comes fast. Too fast. “I wrote it when I didn’t know him. I wrote it because it was my job and because I didn’t trust him. But I deleted it. I wrote the real story—the right story—and that’s what I submitted.”

“Then tell him that.”

“He won’t believe me.”

“Then make him believe you.”

I look at her with tear-stained cheeks and a raw, aching throat. “He told me not to touch him. He looked at me like I was poison. Like I was every bad thing that’s ever happened to him. You didn’t see the way he left.”

Jenny takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “Then fix it anyway. If it matters, you fight.”

“But what if it’s already too late?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t answer right away. Her expression softens even more, but there’s a quiet firmness in it. “Then you walk through the fire anyway. Because if you don’t, you’ll always wonder what could’ve happened if you’d just tried one more time.”

I close my eyes and lean against the concrete wall, the chill seeping into my spine. I don’t know how to make this right. I don’t even know if I can. But I know one thing, this isn’t where it ends.

Not like this.

Not in a fucking cell.

Not after everything we shared.

Not after the way he looked at me like I was worth more than every secret he’d ever buried.

I wipe my face and look up as Jenny’s father walks into the station, talking quietly to the officer at the desk. Papers are signed. A key turns in the lock.

The cell door swings open.

I stand, legs unsteady, and step into the hallway, feeling the weight of everything I’ve broken crash into my chest.

I might have lost everything. My job. My reputation. The man I was starting to fall in love with.

But I’ll walk through hell to fix it if there’s still a chance.

Even if it’s already burning.

I sit stiffly in the station chair, trying to keep my hands from shaking as they read out the conditions of my bail.

I’m not allowed within a hundred feet of my workplace or my boss. I’m barred from all sporting events, games, and any arena where media staff from the company might be present. No press boxes. No locker rooms. No interviews. Not even as a spectator.

It’s like they’re removing every piece of my life one line at a time.

I nod through it, barely hearing half of what they say. My head swims with a thousand thoughts—none of them helpful, all of them centered around him.

When they finally finish, I sign the papers with a trembling hand and slowly rise to my feet.

“Mr. Jenson,” I say quietly, pulling his attention away from the officer beside him.

He turns toward me. “What is it, Elsie?”

I hesitate, then take a small step closer, lowering my voice. “Can you find out where Alex is?”

His face tightens immediately. He exhales hard and runs a hand down his jaw, his gaze darting toward the other officers in the room. “Elsie… I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” My voice breaks, high with panic.

He winces like he expected that question. “Because his team’s legal department already filed a request. They’re asking for limited contact. For your sake and his.”

I blink, stunned. “They what?”

“It’s precautionary,” he says, soft but firm. “They’re protecting him from further media fallout. From more online speculation, slander, or… scenes.”

I feel like someone just knocked the air out of me. “So they think I’m dangerous now?” My voice comes out sharp, bitter. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen—”

“I know,” he cuts in gently. “But they’re not thinking about intentions. They’re thinking about exposure. Damage control. Legal optics.”

“Daddy.” Jenny steps in, frowning. “That’s not fair.”

He sighs, already exhausted. “Princess, please don’t start.”

“She just wants to talk to him,” she says, folding her arms. “You always say there are exceptions in law. Can’t you make one?”

“No,” he says, and the word lands with finality. “I can’t give her the address. That’s not how this works.”

His eyes meet mine, apologetic but firm. “I’m sorry, Elsie.”

I nod, because what else is there to do? My throat aches like I’ve swallowed broken glass. I stand there in silence, arms wrapped around myself, wishing I could rewind the last twenty-four hours.

He presses a file into Jenny’s hands. “Hold this for a moment while I speak to his solicitor about the civil claim her boss is filing. I won’t be long.”

She nods and takes the folder, but the second he disappears through the double doors, she flips it open with practiced ease.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, grabbing her arm. “Jenny—”

“I’m his intern,” she says breezily, eyes scanning the paperwork. “Technically not paid. So if I stumble across something, it’s not a breach of anything.”

“Jenny, seriously—”

“Here.” She finds the page and rips a small slip from the corner, folding it twice before handing it to me. “This is where he is. It’s the address of the property his team arranged as a media-free location. Remote, quiet, outside of town. I heard Dad say it earlier when he was talking to someone from the PR department.”

I stare at the folded paper in my hand like it’s both a bomb and a lifeline.

“You want to go?” she asks.

I nod, too afraid my voice will shake if I try to speak. She sighs and pockets the remaining papers, then walks over to her dad, hands the folder back, and kisses his cheek. A lie between her lips. “Just going to grab coffee. Be back soon.”

Moments later we’re sliding into her car, the silence thick between us as she starts the engine.

I grip the folded address in my lap like it’s the last thread holding me together. Outside the window, the streets roll past in a blur—traffic, shops, people moving through their day like the world hasn’t just ended.

Jenny glances over as she merges into the main road. “What are you going to say to him?”

I don’t answer right away.

Because the truth is… I don’t know.

I don’t have a speech. I don’t have a plan. I don’t even know if I have the right to show up.

But I know I can’t let this end with silence.

Not when there’s still a chance he might hear me.

Not when I love him.

I stare down at the slip of paper in my hand, then out the window again as the city starts to disappear behind us.

And I whisper, more to myself than her, “I’m going to tell him everything.”

Chapter 33

ALEX POV

The light hits my eyes before the headache does.

I groan, dragging a hand over my face, my entire body aching like it’s been shoved through a woodchipper. My mouth’s dry. My knuckles sting. My spine protests when I shift, the couch beneath me unforgiving and unfamiliar.

For a second, I don’t remember where I am. Then I blink through the haze and see the wooden ceiling, the cracked lamp on the floor, the mess I made.

Right. The cabin.

I sit up slowly, the motion making my skull throb. I’m halfway through cursing when I notice Cal sitting across from me, hunched in a chair with a coffee mug in hand. His hoodie’s wrinkled, eyes tired, like he hasn’t slept either.

“How long have I been out?” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Couple of hours,” he says. “It’s ten.”

I glance toward the window, where moonlight filters through the curtains. My limbs are heavy with exhaustion, but worse than that is the gnawing weight in my chest, the one I went to sleep with, the one that hasn’t budged. I rub my hands down my face, wincing as I catch the jagged skin across my knuckles.

“Feel like shit,” I mutter. “Not from the drinking. From being a fucking idiot.”

Cal doesn’t answer. Just watches me, patient. Waiting.

“I thought she loved me,” I admit, the words sharp in my throat. “I believed her. I believed every fucking word out of her mouth and she was lying the whole time.”

He leans forward, setting the mug down beside his foot. His expression is unreadable, but I can feel something shifting in the silence between us.

“She might not have been,” he says after a beat.

I look at him, blinking. “What?”

“She might not have been lying,” Cal repeats, a little more clearly. “Not completely.”

I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “You saw the headline, Cal. You saw what she wrote. You saw what it said. How the hell are you defending her?”

He reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls something out. It takes me a second to recognize it.

My phone.

“I grabbed it before I left,” he says. “Someone sent this to us last night. I think you should see it.”

He tosses it onto the couch beside me, the screen already lit up. A video paused mid-frame. I hesitate before picking it up, hand shaking slightly as I tap to play.

The sound comes first, shouting, glass breaking, voices raised in panic.

Then I see her.

Elsie. In the middle of an office, eyes swollen, face blotched red, mascara streaked down her cheeks. She’s screaming at someone behind a desk, voice raw, hands trembling.

“You stole it! You weren’t supposed to publish that version! I deleted it!”

Her boss just leans back in his chair, smug as hell. He says something, and her face contorts with rage. Then the camera jerks as she storms out of frame.

A second later, glass shatters. People scream. And there she is again, swinging a bat into a trophy case, into a desk, into whatever she can reach. The scene is chaos. Someone is filming from behind a wall, whispering “what the hell is she doing,” but I can’t tear my eyes away from her.

I can’t reconcile it. Not with the version of her in my head. Not with the girl who laid beside me the night before, curled into my chest like I was her entire world.

The phone shakes in my grip. My heart feels like it’s cracking open inside my ribs.

“She destroyed his office,” I whisper, watching the final seconds as security drags her away. “She lost it.”

Cal leans back slightly. “She didn’t know it was being published. Apparently, the file was on her work laptop. She deleted it, but he recovered it anyway and sent it in. Against her will.”

“She still wrote it,” I argue, though the fight is already leaving my voice.

“She did. But she wrote two versions. That one wasn’t the one she submitted. It wasn’t meant to see daylight.” Cal pauses, then adds, “She didn’t want to hurt you. Not like this.”

My stomach twists.

“She still lied to me,” I say, trying to hold on to the anger because it’s easier than guilt. “She didn’t tell me. Not once. I asked her to be honest, and she said she was. I trusted her, Cal. And she let me walk right into it.”

Cal doesn’t deny it. “I’m not saying she’s innocent. I’m just saying… maybe it wasn’t all fake.”

I close my eyes. That should make it better. It should give me something to hold onto. But instead, all I can think about is the last thing I said to her.

The one line I can’t take back. The one thing that made her flinch.

I asked if she drugged Gavin too. Like she was some heartless manipulator.

I feel sick.

Rising too fast, I snatch my keys off the counter, barely remembering where I put them in the first place. I need to go. I need to find her, talk to her, say something—anything—that makes this right, or at least gives it some goddamn closure.

But Cal’s already standing, cutting off my path to the door.

“You’re not driving,” he says firmly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” His eyes drop to my hands. “You’re still bleeding. You barely slept. And you drank over a full bottle of whiskey last night. No way in hell you’re getting behind a wheel.”

I tense, jaw locked, but he’s not wrong.

“I’ll take you,” he says, softer now. “Wherever you need to go.”

I hesitate. Then nod once. “Take me to her apartment.”

He doesn’t ask why.

Doesn’t try to talk me down.

He just grabs his coat and leads the way.

We step out into the cool night, the sun barely above the trees. It’s quiet, still, the kind of peaceful that feels like it shouldn’t exist on a night like this. Not when everything inside me is chaos. Not when the girl I thought I knew turned out to be a stranger—and yet, maybe she wasn’t.

As I settle into the passenger seat and Cal starts the engine, I stare out the window.

I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. I don’t even know what I want from her.

But I know one thing.

I need to see her.

Because if I don’t?

I’m never going to know what was real.

Staring out the window, I barely see the trees blur past as Cal drives. My pulse is still erratic. The fog in my head from the whiskey is fading, but in its place is something worse. Something I can’t name. Like a bruise under the skin of my thoughts.

I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to say it out loud.

But it slips out anyway, like a confession I can’t stop bleeding.

“She’s going to hate me.”

Cal glances sideways, one hand on the wheel, his expression tightening. “What?”

“She’s going to fucking hate me,” I whisper again, this time more broken. “After what I said to her.”

He frowns. “Alex, are you serious right now? She’s the one who did something wrong. Not you.”

I shake my head. I can’t let that sit. Not when I know what I said. Not when I can still see her face when the words landed.

“No,” I say quietly. “No, I did. I did something really fucking bad.”

He doesn’t answer, just watches me. Waiting.

So I tell him.

I force myself to say it, every word like glass in my throat.

I tell him what she told me. About her past. About Gavin. About the trauma that followed her for years and the way it stole something from her. I tell him how long it took her to feel safe again, how every attempt at dating since him triggered flashbacks. How she told me, in that whisper-soft voice, that with me… it didn’t.

The moment I say Gavin’s name, I see it hit him.

Cal winces, mouth twitching like he’s going to be sick.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Alex…”

I nod slowly, shame burning in every vein.

He doesn’t speak right away. He’s silent. But I can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on the space between us.

“That’s not just crossing a line,” he says finally. “That’s twisted. That’s… that’s fucked up even for you.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“That’s the kind of thing you say when you want to break someone. When you want to make sure they never recover from it. You don’t say that to someone you claim you love.”

I rub my hands down my face, nails scraping over the cuts on my knuckles. I deserve worse than this. I deserve to feel it.

“I was angry,” I say. “I didn’t even think. I just wanted her to feel what I felt. I opened up to her, Cal. I told her things I’ve never told anyone. And she lied. She sat in my bed with my secrets in her hands and didn’t even flinch.”

“So you decided to level the fucking earth?” he snaps.

“I don’t know what I decided,” I shoot back. “I just… I reacted. And it came out. And I watched her fall apart in front of me.”

The silence stretches.

Finally, I grab my phone from my pocket, ignoring the flare of pain in my knuckles. I pull up her contact and hit call. It rings. Once. Twice. No answer.

I hang up and try again.

And again.

And again.

Still nothing.

After the fifteenth call, Cal groans and snatches the phone from my hand. “Jesus, Alex. She’s not picking up. If she was arrested, she might not even have her damn phone.”

That freezes me.

I blink, staring at him. “Was she?”

Cal exhales slowly, resting the phone on the dash. “From the reports? Yeah. Full arrest. Not just escorted out.”

My stomach sinks.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “That’s my fault. I caused that.”

He looks over. “No. She made her choices.”

“No,” I say louder. “I pushed her over the edge. I ran. I left her standing there, in front of everyone, humiliated. I didn’t listen. I didn’t ask. I didn’t stop to think maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“She still wrote it, Alex.”

“I know. I know she did. And she lied. I’m not pretending she didn’t screw up. But I didn’t give her a chance to explain. I didn’t ask her why. I just unloaded on her. I cut her open with the one thing she trusted me with, and then I fucking left.”

Cal doesn’t speak, and that silence says everything.

Because he knows I’m right.

Elsie had no one left to fight. I was already gone. Her boss was the last person she could aim that pain at. And she snapped.

And now?

She’s in a cell.

I close my eyes, pressing the heel of my hand to my brow. “I didn’t just hurt her. I destroyed her.”

“Then fix it,” Cal says softly. “But you can’t fix it from behind a wheel with blood on your hands and half a bottle of whiskey in your system. You want to fix it, you do it with your head on straight.”

I nod slowly, eyes still closed. “If she’s not at her place… she’s still in holding.”

“Yeah,” Cal says. “Probably.”

I lean my head back against the seat, heart pounding. I see her in my mind. The rage in her eyes. The way her body shook when I said those words. The silence that fell when she hit the ground.

I hate what she did.

I hate that she lied.

But I hate myself more for the way I retaliated.

“Drive faster,” I say quietly. “Please.”

Cal doesn’t argue. He just presses on the gas and keeps his eyes on the road.

And I sit in silence, hoping it’s not already too late.

Chapter 34

Elsie POV

This place is so much farther than I thought. I didn’t realise just how far it would be until Jenny had been driving for hours.

The longer we’re on the road, the more anxious I get. My legs won’t stay still, and my hands keep fidgeting. I reach into my coat pocket and then the other, feeling around, searching for the one thing I need right now.

“I forgot my phone,” I whisper.

Jenny doesn’t look away from the road, but her voice is steady. “You didn’t forget it. They took it.”

My stomach twists. “What?” I turn to look at her, confused and disoriented. “Why would they take it?”

“They’re keeping it as evidence. That’s what I heard. You’ll get it back when the investigation’s done. My dad also requested they take your work laptop in, too. If we can prove the article was deleted, it might help reduce what you owe in damages.”

“I don’t care about the money, Jenny. I care that he hates me.”

She sighs softly like she’s been expecting that answer. “I know. But if you’re hit with restitution and legal fees, it won’t be something you can ignore. It’ll bury you.”

I turn back to the window, watching trees blur past in the darkness. Her words circle in my head, but they don’t stick. None of it sticks. The only thing I can hold onto is that look on his face, the betrayal in his eyes when I couldn’t answer fast enough.

More time slips by before I finally find the strength to speak again.

“How long is left?” My voice is small, almost afraid to ask.

“Two hours,” she replies, glancing at the clock. “You should sleep. You’ve been in a cell all day and most of the night. You’ll need your head on straight when you see him.”

She’s right. I know she is. Sleep might help. At least then I wouldn’t be trapped in this loop, playing everything over and over, like maybe if I keep thinking about it long enough, I’ll find a way to fix it.

I rest my head against the cold glass, close my eyes, and try. But it doesn’t bring peace.

All I see is him.

That moment outside the café when everything shattered. The way he looked at me. Like I was poison. Like I’d never been real.

“Why did I even write it?” I whisper the words more to myself than her, but Jenny hears them.

She doesn’t answer right away. “Only you can answer that.”

But the truth is, I don’t know anymore. I told myself it didn’t matter, that no one would ever see it. Even as I typed it, I was telling myself it was just a draft, just an exercise, a backup that would never leave the screen. But deep down, I knew.

“I’m just… dumb,” I mutter, blinking back the heat behind my eyes.

“You’re not dumb,” Jenny says, casting a glance at me before focusing back on the road.

“Then what am I? Because I wasn’t going to send it. I swore I wouldn’t. But I still wrote it. And part of me—God, part of me actually thought about it. Even as I told myself no one would see it, I was picturing what would happen if they did.”

She doesn’t speak for a few moments, then finally asks, “When you finished both drafts, did you hesitate? Even for a second?”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Yeah. I did. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. But I did.”

Jenny exhales sharply through her nose. “That doesn’t make you evil. It makes you a reporter. But what does matter is that you were his friend. Or at least pretending to be.”

I nod, because she’s right. That’s what makes this worse. Not the article. Not the lie. It’s that I let him believe I was safe. That he could trust me. That I wasn’t like the rest.

I close my eyes again, feeling the ache creep down my chest.

“We slept together,” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear myself say it.

Jenny slams the brakes without warning, pulling off onto the shoulder and turning to face me. Her expression is pure disbelief.

“What? When?”

I force the words out even though they burn. “That night. After I left the our place. After everything. He kissed me, and I didn’t stop it. I wanted him. And for one night, I forgot all of it.”

Jenny sits in silence, processing. Then she sighs, softer this time, her expression full of something that might be pity. “Elsie. You should’ve told him. You should’ve warned him. There was still a chance the article would be released.”

“I didn’t think it would,” I say quickly, my voice cracking. “It painted him in a good light. My boss wouldn’t have used it. He would’ve scrapped it. And I forgot about the other version. About it being on the laptop. Alex distracted me. I just… forgot.”

She watches me for a long time, then nods slowly. “You’re a disaster.”

Her voice isn’t cruel. It’s light, almost teasing. But the words hit harder than they should because of how true they are. I’ve never been the kind of girl who ruins everything she touches. I used to be the careful one. The smart one. But not anymore.

She starts the car again and pulls back onto the road. I don’t say anything else. I can’t.

Instead, I sit in silence, hands in my lap, staring at the road ahead as we wind through the darkness.

Please let him be there. Please let him still care.

Even if it’s just enough to listen.

The silence between us stretches, thick and heavy, but I don’t try to fill it. There’s nothing left to say, not yet. I keep going over the words in my head, again and again, trying to line them up into something that will make sense when I finally see him. Apologising won’t be enough. I need to explain why. I need him to understand what happened, how it all spiralled, and how I never meant for any of this to touch him the way it did.

“There,” Jenny says, pointing ahead. Her voice slices through the fog of my thoughts.

I follow her finger and spot the car parked just off the gravel road in front of the cabin. My chest clenches. My breath stalls. That’s his car. He’s here. He has to be. I barely wait for the engine to stop before pushing open the door and rushing toward the cabin.

My feet crunch across the path, my fingers already curling into a fist to knock. The cold air bites against my skin, but I don’t feel it. I knock once. Twice. Nothing. I shift from foot to foot, anxiety crawling up my spine, and knock again. Still no answer.

I hesitate, then press my hand to the handle and try it.

It opens.

That has to mean something, doesn’t it? If he didn’t lock it, then he must still be here. He wouldn’t leave it open otherwise. My heart leaps with hope, and I step inside.

But the second I cross the threshold, that hope dies.

The place is destroyed.

Furniture overturned. Shattered glass glinting across the floor. A lamp lies in pieces near the fireplace. Photo frames face-down or broken entirely. I freeze, staring at the chaos, the wreckage of something that was supposed to be peaceful. Safe. My stomach turns as I take it all in.

Jenny appears behind me, her voice quiet. “Well, he was here.”

She steps past me, surveying the room. Her eyes settle on the empty bottle tipped onto its side near the armchair. She picks it up, tilts it slightly, then sets it down again.

“He didn’t leave too long ago.”

My voice barely works. “Where is he now?”

She frowns, walking toward the door again and glancing at the ground outside. “There are extra tyre tracks. Someone else was here too. Looks like he left with someone.”

“So now I don’t even know where he is,” I say numbly. “I came all this way just to miss him?”

“I’ll call my dad when we get back,” she replies gently. “He might have heard something. Come on, Elsie, there’s no point waiting here. He’s gone.”

I don’t move at first. I just stand there, staring at the broken pieces of a room that suddenly feels like a mirror of everything inside me. I saw his car. I thought that meant something. I thought it meant I’d finally get the chance to speak, to say all the things I’ve been holding in since that day. But now, all that hope is dust. Just like the broken glass at my feet.

“I thought if I got here, he’d still be here,” I whisper, more to myself than her.

Jenny touches my arm, gentle but firm. “We probably passed him on the way. I only checked for his car, I didn’t think to look for anyone else’s. One of his teammates must have picked him up.”

I nod, even though it doesn’t help. None of this helps.

We walk back to the car slowly, and I slide into the passenger seat. Jenny starts the engine again and pulls away from the cabin, the headlights casting long shadows across the road as we drive.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “You should be sleeping, not driving me around in the middle of the night chasing someone who probably doesn’t want to see me.”

“Forget it,” she says lightly. “This is the most dramatic thing I’ve done in years. I’m living vicariously through your chaos. Besides, I told you, I’ve got you.”

The words settle over me like a blanket, but they don’t ease the ache. I lean my head against the cool glass of the window and close my eyes.

“Do you think your dad could get his number?” I ask quietly. “If I remembered it, I could call from your phone. Just to say one thing. Just one.”

Jenny shakes her head. “He doesn’t deal with Alex directly. Everything goes through legal, and they’ve already made it clear you’re supposed to stay away for now.”

I swallow hard, guilt rising again in my throat. I don’t argue with her. I know she’s right. I just didn’t realise how hard it would hit me, hearing it out loud like that.

I let the silence take over again. There’s nothing left to do but wait. Hope. Pray that somehow, he’ll still let me say what I came all this way to say.

I press my forehead to the window and close my eyes again, letting sleep take me in bits and pieces as the car hums down the road, the only sound in the dark.

Chapter 35

Alex POV

A voice pulls me from the thick fog of sleep. I blink slowly, groggy and stiff, my head pounding like someone shoved a drum inside my skull.

“Alex,” Cal says quietly, giving my shoulder a gentle shake. “We’re here.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Outside the window, the early morning light filters through the clouds, casting the street in a cold, pale glow. I stare at the building in front of us for a second too long, trying to make sense of it through the ache in my chest.

It’s her place.

Not home. Not anymore. But it still feels like it should be.

Cal’s already stepping out of the car when I reach for the handle. I follow, slower, unsure. My legs feel heavy, like they’re protesting every step.

“I’m coming up with you,” he says, locking the car behind us. “At least until we know everything’s okay. That things aren’t about to get worse.”

I nod, grateful even if I don’t say it.

As we head for the door, he glances over at me. “You need to apologise. Yeah, you felt blindsided. Yeah, she lied. But what you did… the things you said? That was over the line. Hell, the way I spoke to her wasn’t much better. She tried to explain. We didn’t listen.”

His words settle like a weight in my chest. I know he’s right. I knew it the moment I walked away, but knowing doesn’t make it easier to face.

“She might not forgive me,” I murmur.

Cal snorts softly. “Did you not see the video of her smashing up her boss’s office? The woman went full wrecking ball because that article was published. If that’s not proof she didn’t want it released, I don’t know what is.”

I glance at him.

He shrugs. “It’s badass. Most people would cry into their ice cream and complain about how unfair life is. She destroyed the place.”

“Stop smirking,” I mutter. “It’s not funny.”

“I didn’t say it was funny,” he says, still grinning. “Just impressive. Come on, Alex. You found a woman who would go to jail because someone hurt you.”

That’s not how I see it. She didn’t destroy that office for me. Not really. She did it because she was angry and betrayed. Her boss used her, and I was too busy lashing out to see it.

Still, the thought of her doing all that—losing everything—because she cared… It twists something inside me.

When we reach her apartment, I stop short. The door is open. Wide.

Cal steps in front of me, his voice low and alert. “Stay here a second.”

He pushes the door fully open and steps inside cautiously.

The moment he does, I know something’s wrong.

The place is trashed. Worse than anything I could have imagined. The living room is turned upside down. Furniture slashed and torn. Drawers ripped open. Dishes shattered across the floor. It doesn’t look like anger. It doesn’t even look like grief.

It looks like someone was looking for something.

“Did she smash up her home too?” Cal mutters, though his voice lacks conviction now.

I walk in behind him slowly, eyes scanning every surface. This isn’t her. The mess is cold. Methodical. Someone did this.

Both bedroom doors are open, and I step toward one, heart hammering harder with each step. It’s the same. Clothes tossed everywhere. Mattress slashed. Personal things destroyed.

This isn’t rage. It’s invasion.

“Cal,” I say, my voice tight.

He turns to look at me.

“This wasn’t her. This is something else.”

He frowns and rubs the back of his neck. “Don’t start spiraling, alright? Maybe she pissed off the wrong person.”

“She just fucking did,” I snap. “She just destroyed the career of a man with power, money, and access to every fucking sports journalist in the country.”

He winces. “Okay, yeah, fair point. That sounded better in my head.”

My hands ball into fists. I take a deep breath, trying to slow the panic starting to build in my chest.

“She could be in trouble,” I say, moving to the kitchen, then the hall closet, just scanning, searching for any sign of where she might have gone.

“She might be back in custody,” Cal offers, though his voice has lost that casual tone now. “If she really destroyed everything in that office, they might have kept her overnight again.”

I grab my phone from my pocket and scroll through contacts. “Try to find something with Jenny’s number on it,” I say quickly. “She was the one who bailed her out last time. If anyone knows where she is, it’s her.”

Cal nods and starts looking through the scattered mess on the side table. I keep calling Elsie’s phone, even though I know she won’t answer. There’s no ring. Just voicemail.

I walk deeper into the apartment, stepping over overturned chairs and broken picture frames. The bedroom is even worse. It looks like someone ripped through it searching for something. My stomach churns.

This wasn’t her.

This wasn’t anger.

It was a warning.

Or a message.

I glance back at Cal, who’s now flipping through a notepad. “Find anything?”

“Nothing yet,” he says. “But I’ll keep looking.”

The longer we stay in this space, the more convinced I become that something isn’t right. She wouldn’t have done this to her own home. She wouldn’t have gone quiet unless she had no choice.

I walk back to the doorway and look out into the hallway, hoping maybe she’ll come up the stairs. Hoping I’ll see her face. Hear her voice.

But there’s nothing.

No sound.

No sign.

“Let’s check if she’s still locked up,” I mutter, pushing out of the apartment before I can spiral again. She needs to be. God, she has to be. Because if she’s not, if no one knows where she is… my chest tightens, and the nausea climbs higher in my throat.

“Alex, she’ll be fine,” Cal says as he follows me.

“And if she isn’t?” I snap without looking at him. “I left, Cal. I just walked away and left her here to deal with all of this alone.”

I slide into the car and slam the door shut. Neither of us speak. There’s nothing left to say that I haven’t already screamed or regretted.

Cal starts the engine, and we pull out into the traffic. My hands won’t stop twitching. I keep clenching them, releasing, clenching again, like I’m trying to keep something from breaking free. The more distance we put between us and the apartment, the worse it gets. Something feels wrong. Off. Like I missed something crucial and I’m running out of time to fix it.

“Look,” Cal says eventually, voice quieter now. “If… and I really don’t want to say it, but I know it’s what you’re thinking. If someone did retaliate against her, they wouldn’t have touched Jenny. Someone would have seen or heard something.”

I let out a bitter scoff. “You do remember who it is we’re talking about, right?”

He sighs. “Yeah. I know. I was just trying to give you something to hold on to. Something good.”

There’s nothing good left. Just pieces of things I broke.

We drive in silence after that, the kind that presses in and suffocates. When we finally pull up outside the station, I’m already stepping out before the car fully stops. I walk in fast, heading straight for the desk.

“Elsie—”

“She’s not here,” a voice cuts across the room, and I spin toward it.

One of the team’s legal advisors stands by the waiting area, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, my voice too loud.

“We’re handling it,” he says calmly, stepping closer. “She’s been released under the conditions of her bail. But part of that includes a restraining order. She’s not allowed near any sports venues, stadiums, the team… or you.”

“You’re joking,” I say, blinking. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid we are. It’s not about punishing her, it’s about limiting exposure. We’re trying to stop more headlines from forming.”

“Cancel it,” I snap. “I don’t care what it costs, cancel it.”

“Alex—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I’m seeing her. I don’t care what’s in place. You get it removed or I’m done. I won’t step foot on the ice again until it’s gone.”

His eyes widen, and I don’t wait for a response. I turn back to the officer at the desk.

“When did she leave?”

The man glances at his sheet. “Hours ago.”

Hours. She should have been home by now.

Cal follows me outside. He barely gets the door open before I start again.

“Let’s just go back to yours,” he says, trying to calm me. “Let’s think. Maybe she’s already there. Maybe she left a note or—”

I don’t even respond. I just get in his car, hands shaking as I stare at the dash. My jaw is tight, my throat tighter. I’m holding on by a thread.

The drive back feels slower this time, like time itself is dragging its feet just to piss me off. I know she won’t be there. I know. But a small part of me still hopes.

When we finally pull up, I’m out of the car before Cal can even park properly. I jog to the front door, unlock it, step inside.

It’s empty, silent and dead.

I let the door shut behind me and lean against it.

“Okay,” Cal says from behind, stepping in after me. “We need to figure this out.”

I’m already pulling my phone out. I scroll down and hit the number I swore I’d never use again. The one that’s burned into the back of my mind. The man behind the threats. The man I wanted away from.

Cal notices, and his expression changes instantly. “Alex, think about this.”

“I am thinking,” I snap.

The call connects.

“About time,” the voice drawls on the other end.

“Where is she?” I ask.

There’s a long pause.

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“Yes,” I snap again. “Her apartment was destroyed. She’s missing. And I saw the news. You think I don’t know how fast things spread when you want them to? I was wrong, fine. But this… this is something else.”

“Relax,” he says, voice low and cold. “The article didn’t prove anything. It’s just smoke and mirrors. But consider yourself let go of. We can’t afford the attention. Too many eyes on you now.”

“You think I care about that?” I snarl. “I want to know where she is.”

“I told you. She has nothing I need. The article’s out. It’s already old news.”

“Her place was smashed to pieces. Don’t play stupid.”

There’s a faint laugh. It chills me to my core.

“Do you think I’d be that sloppy? I had someone watching her place since you began letting her in. I didn’t order this. You might want to look a little closer to home, Alex.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t touch her, but plenty of people around you might have. Think about it. What happens when the top player on a championship team gets accused of rigging games? Even if it’s not proven, the damage is done. Reputations are fragile. People take it personally.”

The line goes dead.

I lower the phone slowly, and my eyes snap to Cal.

“You did it?” My voice is hoarse.

“What?” His brows shoot up. “No. What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and the team. Did you touch her place? Did you do it?”

“Alex, seriously?” He looks hurt now, offended even. “I’ve been with you the whole time. I got your stuff, met you at the cabin, stayed when you passed out. I didn’t touch anything.”

I breathe out, shaky and uneven. He’s right. He was there. From the second I walked away to the moment I fell asleep, he didn’t leave my side.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“The guys did talk about making her pay,” he admits. “I didn’t take it seriously. Just venting. You know how they are. But they wouldn’t have touched her. Yeah, maybe they trashed the place to scare her, but they wouldn’t have hurt her.”

I sink into the nearest chair, gripping my forehead.

“Then where is she?” I whisper.

And this time, no one has an answer.

Chapter 36

Elsie POV

The first thing I register is Jenny’s voice, soft and low, filtering through the haze of sleep.

“Elsie, wake up. We’re home.”

My eyes blink open slowly. My neck aches from how I was curled against the car door, and everything feels sluggish, like my body is only half here. I sit up, groggy and disoriented. It takes a second before the familiar street outside our apartment starts to make sense.

“You okay?” she asks, already unbuckling her seatbelt. Her voice is tired, but steady.

I nod, even though I’m not. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You need to shower and change,” she says gently. “You’ve been in the same clothes for over twenty-four hours, and you still smell like the police station.”

She isn’t wrong. My skin feels tacky, and my clothes are stiff in all the wrong places. I brush a hand through my hair and wince. “Yeah. Okay.”

We both climb out of the car, the late morning sun casting long shadows across the pavement. My head throbs, not from sleep, but from everything I’m still trying to process. The wreckage I made. The things I said. The things he said. I still don’t know how to make any of it make sense.

As we approach the building, Jenny shifts her bag on her shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can figure out next steps. You need to eat something too. Proper food.”

I offer a tired nod and follow her up the front steps. But the second we turn the corner into the hallway that leads to our apartment, I stop.

So does she.

The front door is cracked open. Not wide, but just enough to see that the lock is broken. The wood around it is splintered. Deep grooves mark where someone forced it.

Jenny holds out an arm across me. “Wait.”

My chest tightens instantly. I know what this is. I know.

“Someone’s been here,” I whisper, heart racing.

She swallows hard. “Stay behind me.”

But I’m already stepping forward.

The apartment is in ruins.

The second we cross the threshold, I see it. Everything overturned. The couch cushions slashed, the coffee table flipped. Glass from picture frames litters the carpet. Books and clothes and drawers pulled open and spilled across every surface. The place looks like a warzone.

My legs nearly give out, but I force myself to move further in, stepping carefully over the wreckage. I glance toward the kitchen, plates smashed, cupboards open. Nothing is untouched.

Jenny exhales beside me, too stunned to speak at first. “What the fuck…”

“It’s them,” I whisper. “It has to be.”

She doesn’t ask who I mean. She already knows.

“The mafia?”

I nod. “Who else would do this? They saw the article. They think I exposed them. Or maybe they just want to make sure I never get the chance again.”

Jenny’s eyes scan the room quickly, her hand wrapping tight around her phone. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

“They could come back,” I say. My voice is shaking, but I try to stay focused. “If they did this to warn me, they might be watching to see what I do next.”

“Right,” she says quickly. “We’re not safe here. Grab whatever you can in sixty seconds. We need to be quick.”

I nod and rush to the hallway, heart thudding in my ears. Every room looks the same. Ransacked. Violated. I grab my duffel bag from Jenny’s my and shove whatever I can inside, an old hoodie, my wallet, a pair of leggings, anything not ruined or shredded. Jenny grabs a few essentials too, shoving them into her tote.

Neither of us speaks.

There’s no time.

I grab the photo of my nan that somehow survived, the one that used to sit on my bedside table. I don’t care that the frame is cracked. I clutch it to my chest, then stuff it into my bag.

By the time we’re back at the door, we both look pale. Shaken.

“We’re not coming back here, are we?” Jenny says quietly, her hand tight on the strap of her bag.

“No,” I whisper. “We’re not.”

She nods slowly. “Hotel then. I’ll get my dad to look into this. Maybe we can figure out who did it.”

I tighten the strap on my bag and glance toward the road. My heart’s thudding harder than it should be.

“Can we stop at Alex’s place first?” I ask, already bracing for the answer.

Jenny blinks. “Elsie, you’re not allowed contact with him. Going to the cabin could be explained, but his place?” She lowers her voice. “That’s pushing it.”

“I don’t care,” I say, and I mean it. “I just need to see him. Even if he slams the door in my face or calls the police. Please, Jenny.”

She watches me for a long moment. Then sighs. “You’re really going to make me get in trouble with my dad, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. “Fine. But we don’t stay long. And I’m coming up with you.”

The drive is tense. My stomach twists tighter the closer we get. I stare out of the window, biting the inside of my cheek. I keep thinking of what I’ll say, how I’ll look at him and ask for something I might not deserve. Forgiveness. Or at least the chance to explain.

When we pull up outside his building, my hands won’t stop shaking. Jenny parks and turns off the engine, but neither of us moves for a second.

“You sure?” she asks.

“No,” I whisper. “But I have to.”

We get out and make our way through the lobby. The elevator ride feels too fast and too slow all at once. My legs feel like they might give out when we reach the penthouse. I stare at the door, frozen.

Jenny lifts her hand and knocks before I can stop her.

“No—” I hiss. “I wasn’t ready.”

Too late.

The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

Alex stands there, hoodie on, hair a mess, eyes wide when he sees me.

My heart is in my throat. I open my mouth, already forming an apology, already ready for the shouting or the door slamming shut in my face.

Instead, I’m crushed.

His arms slam around me like a vice, dragging me into him. His body wraps around mine so tightly I can’t breathe. My face is smashed against his chest. I try to speak, but the words don’t come, just a muffled wheeze. My arms are pinned. I wiggle. Harder. Finally, he lets go.

I stumble back, gasping in lungfuls of air.

“Jesus—I needed to breathe,” I cough, blinking fast.

“Sorry,” he says, then his voice explodes. “Where the fuck were you?”

I flinch.

“I went to your apartment, Elsie. It was destroyed. You were out of the cell, and no one knew where you were. I tried your phone, I called everyone, and I had no way to find you. You disappeared.”

He’s pacing now, angry, but not cold. Not like before.

“I wasn’t gone on purpose,” I say, still catching my breath. “Jenny’s dad found the address where you were hiding, so we drove to the cabin, but… you were already gone.”

From behind Alex, Cal’s voice floats through. “So, what you’re saying is, you both went looking for each other at the same time, drove past one another, and completely missed each other?” He lets out a low chuckle from the sofa. “That’s ridiculous. Rom-com level shit.”

I ignore him.

Alex turns back to me, his eyes searching mine. There’s something softer there now. But it’s buried under a mountain of confusion and pain. And it’s on me to dig through it.

“Can we talk?” I ask quietly.

He hesitates, then nods.

He takes my hand, not tightly, not like before, and leads me through to his bedroom. He shuts the door behind us, and we’re alone. For a second, I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.

Now that I’m here, the words are gone.

All the things I thought I’d say—they scatter like ash.

He stands by the window, arms folded, head bowed slightly like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I whisper.

“I know.”

That throws me.

I blink. “You… what?”

“I know,” he repeats, quieter now. “Cal made me watch the video.”

My throat tightens. “You saw it?”

He nods. “I saw you screaming at your boss. Saw the coffee. The bat. The glass.”

My chest caves in. “I lost it. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know,” he says again, then looks at me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Before it got out? Even if you deleted it… why didn’t you warn me it existed?”

“I forgot,” I say. “I swear, I forgot. That night after… you kissed me and everything just—disappeared. I didn’t even think about the drafts.”

He doesn’t respond.

I keep going, needing him to hear it all.

“My boss wasn’t supposed to see it. I wrote two drafts. One was harsh, like he wanted. The other… the real one, the one I sent… it showed you, Alex. Not the player, not the mafia crap. You. And I thought he’d hate it. I thought he’d throw it out.”

“He didn’t.”

“No,” I whisper. “He went into my laptop and found the first one. The one I deleted.”

He finally moves, pacing again. I can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, and now his voice is shaking too. “Before everything blew up. Before the headlines. Before I had to wonder if any of it was real.”

“It was real,” I say quickly, stepping closer. “Everything. All of it. Every second we spent together, every kiss, the way I felt when you held me. It was real.”

He doesn’t speak, just looks at me with eyes I barely recognise anymore. They’re tired. Hollowed.

“I’m sorry,” I say, voice cracking. “I didn’t think. I didn’t protect you the way you protected me. I was careless, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I didn’t use you.”

He nods once.

“Do you believe me?” I ask.

“I want to,” he says.

That’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either, so I’ll take it.

The silence stretches between us.

It’s thick, heavy with everything we’ve both said and everything we haven’t. He’s standing there, arms still folded, eyes on the floor like if he looks at me too long he might break. I want to reach for him, but I don’t. Not yet. I don’t deserve that.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I whisper.

Alex glances up, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think you can.”

That hurts. It slices deep. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My chest tightens as I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“I know,” I manage. “But if there’s anything left to fix, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

His jaw tenses. “It’s not just about fixing things, Elsie. It’s about trust. And I don’t know if I can ever look at you and not wonder what you’re holding back.”

“I’m not holding anything back now,” I say quickly. “You know everything. I told you everything I can. And I swear to you, I never meant for this to happen.”

“I keep thinking about that night,” he says, voice lower. “When you told me you hadn’t slept with anyone since Gavin. When you said you trusted me enough to let me in. I believed every word. And then the next morning, I found out you wrote that article.”

“I didn’t send it,” I whisper again, but it feels useless now. Weak.

“You still wrote it,” he replies.

I nod again. I deserve that. Every time he throws it back at me, I feel the sting, and I know I earned it. I was reckless. Stupid. And I hurt him.

“You’re allowed to be angry,” I say. “You’re allowed to hate me. But I needed you to know the truth. That’s why I came here. Not to beg. Not to make excuses. Just to say it to your face.”

Alex doesn’t move for a long time.

Finally, he sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees and his hands rub over his face like he’s trying to wipe the pain away.

“I don’t hate you,” he says eventually. “I tried to. It would’ve been easier.”

I don’t realise I’ve started crying until the tears hit my lips.

“Then why does it feel like you do?” I ask quietly.

He lifts his head and looks at me. There’s no hate in his eyes. Just hurt. And that’s so much worse.

“Because I let you in,” he says. “All the way in. I trusted you with pieces of myself I haven’t even told Cal. And then I found out you had written something that could destroy me.”

I sink slowly onto the edge of the bed beside him, careful not to touch.

“I didn’t realise what you meant to me until it was too late,” I admit. “And now I’ve probably ruined it. But I had to try.”

His breathing is rough now. I hear it in the quiet between us.

“I said something unforgivable,” he says.

I frown. “What?”

“When you fell, outside the café. When I pushed you away and said what I said about Gavin.”

I go still.

He shakes his head slowly. “I knew it was too far, even as it came out. But I couldn’t stop it. I just wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me.”

“It did hurt,” I whisper.

He nods. “I know.”

“But I forgave you the second I walked into your place tonight.”

His shoulders slump.

“I never wanted to hate you,” I add, voice breaking. “Even when you were gone. Even when I thought I’d never see you again.”

He looks at me finally. Really looks. And there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Regret. Longing. Pain.

“I keep thinking about how it felt when I thought you were gone for good,” he says. “When I found your apartment wrecked, and no one could tell me where you were. I thought maybe someone had come after you. I thought it was my fault.”

I reach for his hand this time, and he doesn’t pull away. Our fingers tangle slowly. Carefully.

“I wasn’t gone,” I whisper. “I was just trying to find you.”

He nods, and for a moment we just sit there, breathing together, holding onto that one fragile thread between us.

Finally, he whispers, “Stay tonight.”

I blink. “What?”

“Not like that,” he adds. “I just… I don’t want to wake up alone.”

My chest aches.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He lies back on the bed, not pulling me down with him, but not letting go of my hand either. I slide off my shoes and curl beside him, facing him.

We lie there in silence for a while, our hands still joined between us.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he murmurs.

“Me either,” I say. “But I want to find out. With you.”

He closes his eyes, and I watch the rise and fall of his chest.

We’re not fixed.

We’re not okay.

But we’re not done either.

And for now, that’s something.

Chapter 37

Alex POV

I can’t sleep. I thought maybe once Elsie was here, once I could see her breathing beside me and know she was safe, it would be enough to quiet the storm in my head. But it isn’t. It never is. Not when I know what she’s still facing.

She’s curled up in my bed, fast asleep, face slack with exhaustion. There’s a bruise forming along her collarbone from where she must’ve hit something during the chaos, and just seeing it makes something ugly curl in my chest.

She deserves to rest. I don’t.

So I cover her up carefully, not wanting to wake her, and slip out of the room.

Cal and Jenny are still sitting in the living room, coffee cups in hand. They’re quiet, talking low, but the moment I step out, their attention turns to me. I don’t waste time.

“How bad are things for her?” I ask, my voice low, firm.

Jenny’s shoulders stiffen. She looks up at me with a tired kind of sympathy. “Her boss has ensured she’s banned from all sports events, anywhere that his workers might be present. She’s blacklisted. He’s also filing for damages, looking to claim compensation for everything she broke. That includes the tech, the memorabilia, the furniture—everything. And she’s not allowed anywhere near him or his workplace.”

It hits me harder than I expected. I knew it was bad, but hearing it laid out like that makes it real in a different way. Tangible. Legal. Permanent.

“I need your car,” I say to Cal, already walking toward the door.

He groans, clearly catching on to what I’m about to do. “You beating up her ex-boss won’t help matters,” he mutters, but he tosses me the keys anyway.

“I’m not about to beat him up,” I say, pausing with my hand on the door. “I’ll be back within an hour.”

I don’t wait for them to argue.

By the time I’m in Cal’s car and driving toward her office building, I’m texting our legal team, telling them to meet me there. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care if it’s inconvenient. They’ll come. This is what we pay them for.

When I arrive, the building is sterile, polished, clinical—nothing like the wreckage I saw on the videos. They’ve cleaned it already, scrubbed every trace of Elsie’s fury from the walls. It’s like it never happened.

I remember, and so will he.

I don’t ask for permission. I walk through the glass doors, past the front desk, and straight into his office. He’s seated at his desk, talking on the phone, clearly not expecting visitors. His eyes widen as I enter, and he sets the phone down slowly, wariness already creeping into his expression.

“Alex?” he says, confused. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m here to discuss your attempts to slander me,” I reply, my tone flat.

He groans, dragging his hands down his face like I’m just another problem on a growing list. “What are you talking about?”

“That can wait,” I say. “My legal team is on their way up.” I sit down across from him and cross my arms. “You’ll want to wait for them.”

We don’t speak for the next minute. He shifts in his chair. I tap my fingers against my knee. When the door opens and my team steps in, he stiffens.

“Okay, so what?” he says, his eyes flicking to each suited figure now filling his office. “What are you trying to do here, Alex?”

“Well,” I start, leaning forward slightly, “from where I’m sitting, this is clearly a slander case. Defamation too, since you didn’t cite your sources properly, or at least didn’t confirm that they agreed with what you wrote.”

He scoffs. “Are you trying to say we didn’t check our sources?”

“No one rang me to confirm anything. No one rang my sister. No one contacted my agent, or anyone on my team. So tell me, where’s the proof of what you wrote? Where’s the tape? The emails? Anything?”

His jaw tightens.

I know that look. That’s the look of someone who gambled and lost. He was betting on the fact that no one would fight back. That Elsie would take the fall, quietly. That I’d disappear under the weight of the scandal.

But I’m not disappearing.

“Take me to court,” he says finally, voice low, cold. “Go ahead. You’ll only drag her down more. After all, she wrote it. It’s got her name on it, not mine. She’s responsible for providing her own evidence.”

I smile slowly. “That would have worked. Except it’s already been backed up—by forensics, IT, and multiple witnesses—that the version she sent you wasn’t what was released. So now it looks like you went into her trash, found a draft that was never submitted, and published it under her name. Without confirming the facts. That’s not just unethical. That’s criminal negligence.”

He looks from me to my legal team, and for the first time, he looks nervous.

“Fine,” he mutters. “What do you want?”

My lawyer opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

“No,” I say sharply. “I want you to drop every charge against Elsie. Right now.”

“Alex,” one of the team members says from behind me, voice tight. “That’s not how we do things. That doesn’t solve your issue.”

“If you want me skating,” I say, not looking away from Elsie’s boss, “I choose the path forward.”

I stare him down.

“Everything dropped,” I say clearly. “All charges gone. No chasing her for money. No court. And you release a statement saying that article was bullshit and not real. That you put her name on it without her permission to cover your own ass.”

His eyes widen. “You want me to slander myself?”

“No,” I reply coolly. “I want you to tell the truth. That article was never approved. You took it from a deleted folder without her consent. So remove her name from it. That way, she can get a job elsewhere without this hanging over her.”

He doesn’t speak for a long moment. Just stares at me. Then at the team behind me. Then at the walls around him, like looking for some kind of escape.

Finally, I see it.

The shift.

He knows he’s cornered.

“Or,” I say, glancing over my shoulder, “we can go with what they were about to suggest. What was it again?”

One of the lawyers clears his throat. “Public statement accepting full liability for publishing slander without verifying sources, admitting breach of journalistic ethics, and an initial damages claim of five million to compensate for reputational harm.”

My voice stays calm, but every word lands like a punch. “And if you lose, which you will, you shut down your entire company.”

That does it.

His shoulders slump.

“You want me to call everything off on Elsie instead?” he asks, voice tight with disbelief.

I nod. “Exactly.”

“Think about this,” one of the lawyers says again, trying to push their angle. “We can destroy his whole company.”

“But then he can still chase after Elsie and drag her down with him,” I say. “I want her cleared. No mess. No drama. Just done.”

The silence stretches. Then, finally, he exhales and mutters, “Fine. I’ll agree. I’ll drop all charges against her, lift the ban on her being at sporting events, cancel any restitution claims, and I’ll release a statement that the article was a draft not intended for publication. I’ll remove her name from it.”

His hand stretches across the desk. I stare at it like it’s something disgusting.

“I’m not shaking your hand,” I say, standing up. “One of them can. They’ll sign off on it. But you and I? We’re done.”

I don’t wait for a response.

I walk out, my blood still burning.

Elsie might still hate me for the things I said.

But at least now, she won’t be dragged through hell for something she never meant to publish.

And no matter what happens between us next, that was worth it.

Chapter 38

Elsie POV

I wake slowly, blinking against the soft light that filters in through the partially drawn curtains. My head feels heavy, like sleep didn’t quite do its job, and my limbs ache with the weight of everything that’s happened.

I’m in Alex’s bed. Alone.

The space next to me is cold, his scent faint but still lingering in the sheets. I sit up slowly, pressing my hands into my face and trying to push back the fog of exhaustion and emotion. My throat is dry, my eyes feel swollen, and my chest—well, it still hurts. There’s so much to sort through, so much to fix, and I have no idea where to even begin.

Sliding off the edge of the bed, I pull the hoodie tighter around my body and step out into the hallway. The apartment smells like food, something warm and savoury drifting in from the kitchen.

“She’s awake,” I hear Jenny say, her voice casual like we’re all just roommates living through a sitcom instead of a full-scale emotional meltdown.

I step into the open space and blink when I see her still here. “You’re still here?” I ask, surprised.

Jenny nods like it’s obvious.

“Yeah. Until the apartment gets cleared and sorted out, you’re both staying here. Plus, the guys are coming over,” Cal says.

I pause, confused. “The guys?”

Alex looks up from the stove, flipping something in the pan with a focused ease that doesn’t quite match the conversation. “Yeah. They’re coming to apologise.”

My eyes narrow, still trying to piece it together. “Apologise for what?”

Alex doesn’t hesitate. “It was them. The ones who trashed your apartment. I made sure they know they’re paying to replace everything and get it all fixed.”

I freeze. My brain doesn’t quite catch up with the words fast enough.

“What?” I whisper.

“It was them?” The sentence tastes sour coming out of my mouth. “Why?”

“You have met the team, right?” Cal says, barely holding back a laugh.

I turn toward him slowly, my confusion growing. “I have. And it still makes no fucking sense.”

Cal groans. “They are a think-later, action-now type of crowd. One person gets the idea, everyone agrees it’s great, they do it, then think, oh shit, that was wrong. Like paying a woman to force Alex to sleep with her. We realised after it was almost rape.”

My mouth just hangs open. Like—what even is that? Who thinks that way, other than these idiots?

“They will fix it all and replace whatever can’t be fixed, I swear. I also didn’t know they planned to do it.”

“It’s fine, I just… I’m shocked they did it.”

“Yeah well, they lack common sense, and without me or Alex around, they do some pretty dumb shit,” Cal says with a laugh.

I laugh now. “I don’t think you two would be much help. Wasn’t it your plan to send the woman to his hotel room?” I ask.

Cal bites his lip. “Okay, yeah, but I was highly drunk.”

Jenny makes a strangled sound from behind her mug of coffee and mutters, “That explains everything, doesn’t it?”

Alex walks around the counter toward us, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “They’re idiots, but they’ll own it. They know they screwed up.”

I nod slowly, letting the weight of it settle in my chest. “I don’t know what I thought happened, I guess I figured it was your not so friendly friends or someone trying to scare me. Not… your teammates.”

Alex shrugs. “They thought they were protecting me. Saw the article, made assumptions. I told them it was bullshit, and that you had nothing to do with it.”

“Too late for that,” I mutter.

“Yeah, well, the apology’s coming,” he says. “Even if they’re bad at it.”

Alex appears behind me and hugs me. His mouth is close to my ear. “Don’t avoid me. I’m mad, but I’m getting over it.” He kisses my neck and walks back to the kitchen to cook.

Maybe I was avoiding him?

I stand there a little longer, unsure what to say or do. Jenny’s watching me from the sofa with a look that says, you’re still not off the hook, but you’re not drowning anymore either. It helps. A bit.

I glance toward the kitchen. Alex is cooking like nothing happened. Like my entire world didn’t just go up in flames.

And still… somehow… I feel safer here than anywhere else.

I shift, uncomfortable with the silence stretching between us. Jenny picks up her phone and mumbles something about needing to call her dad, giving us space without actually saying it. Cal follows with some half-hearted excuse about checking on the guys. Within seconds, they’re gone, and we’re alone.

I should say something. I want to. But I don’t know how to start.

I don’t move.

Alex stands a few feet away. He sets down the spatula without looking at me, then finally turns.

For a second, he just stares. Like he’s checking I’m really still here.

He turns the stove off and sets the pan aside. “Come here.”

It’s not a question.

I walk toward him slowly, watching as he wipes his hands on a towel and leans back against the counter. He doesn’t look angry. Just tired. Quiet in a way that makes me feel exposed.

He reaches for my hand, pulling me between his legs as he rests his hands on my hips. The warmth of his touch grounds me more than it should. I wait, half-expecting him to speak first, but he doesn’t. He’s letting me fill the silence. It’s terrifying.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper. “I know that doesn’t change anything, and it doesn’t make what I did less awful, but… I didn’t. I swear to you.”

He laces our fingers together and guides me toward the balcony doors. He doesn’t say a word, just unlocks them and pushes one open, letting the breeze slip in around us. It’s cooler than I expected, and I shiver slightly. He notices. His arm lifts, not hesitating, and pulls me in.

I lean against him. No words. No explanations. Just his arms around me and the quiet city below.

“I hate this view,” he murmurs.

It takes me a second to realize he’s even spoken. “What?”

“It’s supposed to be calming. Everyone always says that. But it’s too far away from everything. Too quiet. Makes it hard to shut your brain off.”

I know exactly what he means.

“I can’t stop thinking either,” I say, barely louder than the wind. “Even now.”

His arms tighten slightly. “I don’t want you thinking about it anymore.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Alex shifts behind me, resting his chin against the top of my head. “I don’t need you to fix anything, Elsie. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. I just need you here. That’s it.”

“I thought I’d lost that.”

“You nearly did.”

I nod. “I know.”

He turns me in his arms, gently, until I’m facing him. His eyes are tired, dark circles underlining everything he’s held in since the second I showed up at his door. But they’re soft, too. Open.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “So fucking angry. And I said things I didn’t mean. I thought I wanted to hurt you, but it hurt me more. That’s not something I’m proud of.”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t innocent. I was scared and selfish and reckless. But I never wanted to hurt you either.”

We fall quiet again.

Softly, he brushes a knuckle along my jaw. His voice drops.

“I still love you.”

My breath catches. My throat burns.

He watches me like he’s preparing to be pushed away, like he’s already halfway to letting go again. I don’t let him.

“I love you too,” I whisper. “Even when it hurt. Even when I hated myself for it.”

His hand slides to the back of my neck and he kisses me—slowly, like we’ve got time to rebuild everything. No urgency. Just steady warmth, his lips brushing mine like they’re relearning the shape of forgiveness.

When he finally pulls back, I don’t step away. I don’t even blink.

“Come have breakfast,” he says softly.

I nod.

We step back inside, and the warmth from the kitchen wraps around me instantly. Something smells amazing, eggs maybe, and toast. There’s a calmness now, like a pressure valve just released. Not everything’s fixed, but the silence between us doesn’t feel sharp anymore. It just… breathes.

Alex doesn’t let go of my hand. His fingers stay linked with mine as he leads me to the kitchen like we’ve been doing this for years, like all that chaos didn’t happen.

Jenny’s perched on a bar stool at the island, swinging her legs and eating a piece of toast like she didn’t just give us space for the most vulnerable moment of our lives. Cal’s beside her, already halfway through his plate, holding a mug of coffee with both hands like it’s his life support.

“Took your time,” Jenny says, but there’s a faint smile behind her words. She hands me a mug of coffee without being asked, and I take it gratefully.

“You both good?” Cal asks, not even pretending to look casual about it. His eyes flick from me to Alex, searching.

“We’re trying,” I say quietly.

Alex nods once. “We’re good.”

That seems to settle something in both of them. Cal’s shoulders ease and Jenny actually breathes out like she’s been holding it in since we left the room.

“Good,” Jenny says, chewing the edge of her toast. “Because I swear, if either of you started yelling again, I was going to barricade myself in the bathroom.”

Alex lets out a soft laugh and starts plating up breakfast. He hands me one, then drops another in front of Jenny with a quiet grunt of appreciation. She smirks like she’s won a prize.

I sit beside her while Alex and Cal claim the other side of the island. It feels strangely normal for a moment, like we’re just four friends sharing a lazy morning.

“I still can’t believe it was the team,” I say, after a beat of silence. “Like, I expected angry fans. Maybe an article or two online. But your actual teammates?”

“They didn’t think it through,” Cal mutters around a mouthful of food. “Which is sort of their default setting.”

“They will apologise,” Alex says firmly. “Properly. I made sure of it.”

“And pay for everything,” Cal adds. “Trust me, they’re not getting out of it. We’ve already got a list.”

Jenny perks up. “I added candles and throw pillows to the list.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “It’s not a shopping spree.”

“It is now,” she replies sweetly. “You should see what they did to the living room. We deserves a new coffee table. One that doesn’t remind us of being ambushed by brainless hockey players.”

I shake my head, but the corner of my mouth lifts. “I don’t even care about the stuff anymore. I just wanted to be heard.”

“You were,” Alex says, his tone quiet but certain.

A small silence follows. I pick at my eggs, chewing slowly. My stomach’s still twisted in knots, but the food helps settle the shakiness in my hands.

“I meant what I said,” Alex adds after a moment. “About you not needing to fix anything. You don’t owe me perfect, Elsie. Just honest.”

That nearly undoes me again. I nod, not trusting myself to speak without my voice catching.

“I don’t want perfect either,” I manage finally. “I just want real. Even when it’s hard.”

He reaches over the counter and takes my hand again, thumb stroking across my knuckles like he can read everything I’m not saying.

Jenny clears her throat loudly. “Okay, this is getting sappy, and I didn’t sign up for a live rom-com.”

Cal smirks. “You stayed the night. You walked into the second act willingly.”

Jenny throws a piece of toast at him. He dodges with a laugh, and the mood lightens again.

We finish eating in a comfortable quiet, interrupted only by small comments and jokes between bites. It’s strange how normal it feels, how easy it is to fall into the rhythm of something that could almost pass for peace.

After breakfast, Alex stands to clear the plates. I move to help him, but he shakes his head.

“Sit,” he says. “You’ve had a long enough day and it’s barely started.”

He’s right. My body still aches with exhaustion and my brain’s moving slower than usual. But for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not drowning.

I lean back in the stool, sipping the last of my coffee, and watch him rinse off plates like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.

Maybe it is. Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe love looks like this.

Like showing up when it would be easier to run.

Like holding hands across a table when silence says more than words ever could.

Like breakfast with the people who stood by us when we were at our worst.

It’s not fixed or even over, but it’s something.

And for now, that’s enough.

Chapter 39

Alex POV

I make the coffees, passing one to Jenny, then Cal, then Elsie. She gives me a small smile as our fingers brush, but I don’t linger. Not yet.

“Hey,” I say, tilting my head toward the balcony. Cal follows my glance, his brows lifting just slightly before he sighs and stands.

Without a word, he follows me out. The glass door clicks shut behind us, dulling the warmth and conversation from inside. The cold hits instantly, biting at my skin through the hoodie, but I need the distance. The space. So does he.

“You good?” he asks, wrapping both hands around his drink like it’ll offer more heat than it does.

“With Elsie? Yeah,” I nod, leaning against the railing. “We’re getting there. Might take time, but we’re not where we were yesterday.”

“Then what’s with dragging me out here like we’re about to share a dirty secret in the middle of a snowstorm?” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge underneath it.

I shrug. “I don’t know, PuckDaddy, you tell me.”

He groans at the nickname, then lifts his cup like a peace offering before taking a sip. “If you’re gonna be annoying, at least spike this shit.”

“That’s for later. Right now, talk.”

His eyes flick to the skyline, jaw clenched like he’s holding back words. “Talk about what?”

“You’ve been here since the other night,” I say, quietly. “Stayed without question. Covered for me without hesitation. Didn’t even complain about the couch.”

“So?”

“So,” I repeat, “you’re avoiding going home.”

His shoulders tense. He doesn’t confirm it, but he doesn’t deny it either.

“Still having issues?” I press, gentler this time.

Cal exhales hard, fog clouding the air in front of him. “I don’t fucking know.”

That’s not a real answer, and he knows it.

“Is your daughter okay?”

He shrugs again. “Guess.”

I stare at him. “You’re really trying to vague-answer your way out of this?”

“She went to visit her parents,” he mutters, “and hasn’t messaged me since. That’s all I’ve got.”

Now it clicks. The silence. The fact he’s here at my place playing moral support instead of back with his family.

“Makes sense why you’re suddenly free to babysit my life,” I say, keeping my voice even.

“Don’t,” he warns, not looking at me. “Don’t tell the guys. I’m not in the mood for their jokes or sympathy.”

“I wouldn’t. You know that.”

We stand in silence for a few beats, the wind whistling between buildings around us.

“When’s she coming back?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“Cal.”

“I said I don’t know, Alex!” he snaps, finally turning to face me. His expression is raw, drawn tight at the edges like he’s been holding it together longer than he should. “Things have been tense for over a year. She needed space. I agreed. I’m trying not to message her every damn day asking when they’re coming home.”

“She can’t just keep your daughter away from you,” I say carefully.

“She’s not,” he mutters. “Not really. I get the occasional picture. A video. A call if I ask.” He stares out at the city again. “But it’s not the same.”

“What was the last fight over?” I ask, not because I’m prying, but because I know how this shit builds. The quiet cracks that turn into fractures.

“She left Ayla with the nanny again.”

“That’s it?” I blink. “Seriously?”

He cuts me a look. “Alex, the nanny sees Ayla more than she does. I was home most nights. I rearranged my training to be there. And every time I got back, she was gone. Out again. Always with some excuse.”

I watch him for a second, watching the weight press down on him in places most people can’t see.

“Maybe she’s struggling,” I say after a moment. “Going from her freedom to being a full-time parent? Some people take longer to adjust.”

“Then she could’ve left Ayla with me. Her parents couldn’t take her. But she didn’t. She handed her off to someone else because I think—” He cuts himself off, then shakes his head. “I think she didn’t want to see me. Not the version of me that comes with a kid. The version that’s tired. Responsible. Fucking boring.”

“You two are—were—solid,” I say. “High school sweethearts, remember? That kind of connection doesn’t just vanish.”

Cal lets out a bitter laugh, one that’s far too hollow to be anything good.

“Everyone thinks that’s romantic,” he says quietly. “Being together since we were kids. But no one talks about how you have to keep falling in love with the same person, over and over again, as they change. I did that. Every version of her, I tried. But I think…” He swallows hard. “I think she still wants the boy she fell in love with. Not the man I became.”

I let the silence stretch after that. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because sometimes, silence is what lets the words breathe.

“She hasn’t fallen out of love with you,” I say eventually. “Maybe she’s just lost in a version of herself she doesn’t recognise. Give her time. Give her space. But don’t give up.”

He looks at me, and for the first time since we stepped out here, I see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“I want to believe that,” he says quietly.

“Then believe it.”

Cal nods once, not fully convinced, but holding onto the thread anyway.

We stand in the cold a few minutes longer, just breathing, just existing. Two guys with messy lives and too many regrets, trying to hold onto the things that still matter.

I don’t say anything else as Cal goes quiet beside me, eyes still fixed on the skyline. Whatever’s going on with him, it’s deeper than he’s willing to admit right now, and I get it. Some things bruise slower than they bleed.

I pat his shoulder once before pushing the balcony door open. The warmth from inside hits immediately, a welcome shift from the cold air biting at my skin. Cal trails behind me, quieter than before.

Elsie looks up from the kitchen stool as we walk back in. She’s got a half-eaten piece of toast in her hand, Jenny sipping her third cup of coffee beside her, legs curled under her on the couch.

Everything in me softens just looking at her. She’s calmer now, sitting with Jenny like nothing in the world’s wrong, but I know she’s still carrying it. I can see it in her eyes.

I sit beside her and steal the rest of her toast, ignoring her little huff of protest as I bite into it.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

She nods once. “Yeah. Better.” She tilts her head at Cal. “You?”

He gives a one-shoulder shrug and sits down across from us. “I’m surviving.”

Jenny eyes him. “That’s what people say when they’re definitely not.”

“I said surviving, not thriving,” he replies, a little too dryly, and Jenny doesn’t push. She just nudges the coffee closer to him like that might help.

Before anyone can say more, the door buzzes.

My eyes flick to the panel and I already know who it is.

“They’re here,” I say as I stand and walk to the door.

Elsie stiffens a little next to me, and I see Jenny reach out to steady her. “It’s okay,” she says quietly. “They owe you. Let them.”

I open the door and step aside.

Liam walks in first, head down, followed by Josh, Sam, and two others. They all hover in the entryway like they’re walking into a church instead of my apartment, eyes sweeping over everything but not really seeing it. They look uncomfortable as hell.

Liam clears his throat. “Is she…?”

“She’s here,” I say flatly. “And she’s listening.”

Elsie stands slowly. She’s barefoot, still in one of my hoodies, but she holds herself tall. Stronger than she probably feels.

Liam steps forward first.

“Look… we fucked up.” He doesn’t try to soften it. “There’s no excuse. We were pissed. Thought you were trying to tank everything from the inside. We didn’t stop to think. We just reacted.”

“And destroyed our place,” Jenny adds, arms crossed.

Sam flinches. “Yeah. We did. And we’re sorry.”

Elsie doesn’t say anything, just looks at them, eyes sharp. I can tell she’s not going to make this easy, and she shouldn’t.

Josh rubs the back of his neck. “We thought we were protecting Alex. But we weren’t. We were just angry. And we took it out on you.”

“You saw an article with my name and decided I was the enemy,” Elsie says finally. “Not one of you asked what really happened. You just trashed everything I had.”

“We didn’t think,” Liam says. “We just saw red.”

“No, you didn’t think,” Jenny snaps. “You broke into our home, destroyed our things. What if we had been there?”

They all go quiet.

“We would’ve walked away,” Sam says eventually. “We never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Elsie says quietly. “You hurt us both.”

I step beside her, not touching her, but close. “They’re going to pay for it,” I say. “Every piece. Every item. They’ll cover the repairs, replace everything. I’ll make sure of it.”

“We will,” Liam says. “No excuses. We’ll fix it.”

There’s a long beat of silence. Elsie crosses her arms, jaw tight. “I don’t forgive you. Not yet. But I appreciate the apology.”

They nod, accepting that.

“And I’m not thanking you for fixing what you destroyed,” she adds. “You don’t get points for cleaning up your own mess.”

“We know,” Josh mutters. “But we’re going to do it anyway.”

Jenny stands too now, squaring her shoulders. “And next time you feel like playing vigilante, maybe get the full story first.”

No one argues. They just nod, looking like they’ve been properly slapped. Eventually, they start heading for the door, one by one. Liam lingers a little longer.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says to Elsie, voice low. “And I’m sorry we didn’t listen.”

Then he’s gone.

I shut the door behind them and lock it.

Elsie lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been stuck in her chest all day. She leans back against the counter, head tilted toward the ceiling.

“That was… a lot.”

I walk over and slide my arms around her waist. “Yeah.”

Her hands find the hem of my shirt and twist in the fabric.

“They meant it,” she says. “Did you hear it? They actually meant it.”

“I know,” I murmur against her hair. “Still doesn’t make it okay. But it’s a start.”

Jenny looks at Cal and stretches. “I need a nap and something stronger than coffee.”

Cal raises a brow. “Pick one.”

“I’ll start with the nap,” she mutters, grabbing her blanket and curling up on the couch.

Elsie presses closer to me. “What now?”

I press a kiss to her temple. “Now? You eat. You rest. You stay here. And we figure the rest out together.”

She nods. And for the first time in days, she looks like she believes it.

Chapter 40

Alex POV

The air in the room is heavy. Not tense exactly, just… off. I glance between Cal and Elsie as they sit in silence, neither saying much beyond the occasional comment about coffee or the state of the couch. Jenny’s off somewhere down the hall, I can hear her on the phone talking.

After nearly an hour of this, I can’t sit still any longer.

“I’m gonna make a call,” I say, pushing up from the sofa.

Cal looks over, brow raised. “Who to?”

“Just need to check in with someone,” I mutter, already moving.

I slip into the bedroom and close the door behind me. Pulling out my phone, I open the app and add the group chat call with the guys. It rings for a few moments before connecting.

Their faces pop up one by one on screen, Sam, Liam, Josh, and a few others. They’re waiting, clearly expecting something dramatic. I don’t disappoint.

“No,” I say bluntly.

There’s a beat of silence before Josh groans. “Did you actually ask him, Alex? Like, really ask?”

I say nothing.

Sam laughs. “You tiptoed around it. I can tell.”

“I didn’t tiptoe,” I mutter, even though we all know I did.

“Yes, you fucking did,” Liam cuts in. “You always do when it’s Cal.”

“I’m not gonna walk in and burst the little bubble he’s living in,” I snap.

Sam grins. “What bubble? The one where he thinks everything’s totally fine while he spirals in slow motion?”

I rub my hand down my face, jaw tight.

“He slept with someone, kissed Elsie when he was drunk, and he’s drinking more than usual. Sounds fine to me,” Liam says, voice dry.

“Okay, what did he actually say?” Sam asks.

“He said she went to visit her parents. That things have been tense,” I reply, leaning back against the wall.

Liam exhales hard. “So she’s been gone for over a month then. That’s what I’m hearing.”

“She took the kid,” I add. “He’s not seen either of them since.”

“Then he needs to say it out loud,” Sam mutters.

“Just get him drunk and make him admit it,” Josh says casually, like it’s the obvious solution.

“I’m not getting him drunk just to drag out a confession,” I argue. “That’s not the way to handle it.”

“Then ask him why he’s cheating,” Liam says, like it’s no big deal. “He’ll probably snap and tell you it’s not cheating if they’re not together anymore.”

I press my fingers to my temple, trying to hold the headache back.

“I have enough on my plate without having to babysit Cal’s emotional breakdown,” I say, quieter this time.

There’s a pause on the other end.

“We’re coming,” Sam says flatly.

“No,” I cut in fast. “No way. If anything, one of you can come pick him up and take him back to yours. I don’t need everyone turning up and making it worse.”

“I agree with Sam,” Liam replies, ignoring me. “We’ve let him sit in it too long. If you won’t get him to face it, we will.”

I close my eyes and take a breath. “Leave it alone. We already know the truth even if he won’t say it. Let him have his lie if it’s keeping him afloat.”

But it’s too late. Sam’s already grinning.

“I’m already in my car,” he says. “See you soon.”

He hangs up.

“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath and end the call.

I push the phone into my pocket and head back out into the living room.

“The guys are coming,” I say, walking toward the kitchen.

Cal’s head jerks up. “You called them?”

“No,” I lie. “They called me.”

He pulls out his phone and stares at it like it’s personally betrayed him. “Really? What did you say to them?”

I shrug. “Nothing. Apparently we’re overdue a night in.”

His eyes narrow, and I can tell he doesn’t believe a word of it. Not that I blame him.

Still, I turn away and open my messages, pulling up Leah’s contact. If the team is crashing here and Cal’s about to be cornered by his own denial, I’d rather Elsie and Jenny not be surrounded by a wall of testosterone.

Alex: You might wanna come by. The guys are showing up. If Cal snaps, I need backup. Bring snacks.

I hit send and toss the phone on the counter.

Behind me, Cal mutters something under his breath and takes a sip of coffee like it’s suddenly stronger than it is.

The door bursts open with the kind of drama only my teammates are capable of, and suddenly the apartment is filled with noise. Voices overlap, jackets are thrown over chairs, and someone is already complaining about the traffic before the front door even finishes swinging shut.

“Hope you stocked the fridge,” Sam says, dropping a six-pack on the counter like it’s a peace offering.

“I brought snacks,” Liam adds, holding up a suspicious-looking plastic bag. “Mostly sugar and regret.”

Josh is already eyeing the layout of the apartment like he’s looking for somewhere to nap or cause chaos. Possibly both.

“Nice place,” Deano mutters, walking straight to the balcony. “Looks less depressing than your last one, Wolfe.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, “Maybe this time you will remember you’ve been here before, seeing as you arrived sober,” grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top. I don’t even like the taste tonight, but my hand needs something to do.

We all settle around the open-plan living room area. Jenny and Elsie are perched on the opposite end of the couch, talking in low voices and laughing at something on Jenny’s phone. Every few seconds, Elsie’s head tips back with a soft laugh, and that sound cuts through all the noise like it’s the only thing I actually hear.

She’s relaxed. Almost glowing. And I can’t stop watching her.

“Stop staring,” Cal mutters beside me, cracking his own drink open.

“I’m not—”

“You are. You’ve barely blinked.”

I grunt and take a swig from the bottle. “She’s just… different when she laughs.”

“She’s different when she feels safe,” he replies, and that shuts me up for a while.

Across the room, Sam throws a pillow at Josh for leaning back too far in the chair. “You break it, you buy it.”

“It’s not even yours,” Josh fires back. “And since when do you enforce house rules?”

“Since now. I’m a guest with standards.”

“Since when?”

“I have high expectations when I’m drunk.”

“Like the time you ate expired hummus off a skate guard?” Liam adds, grinning into his beer.

“That was cultural exploration,” Sam says with mock dignity. “And mildly traumatic.”

Everyone laughs. Even Jenny, who shakes her head like she regrets every life choice that led her here.

“I swear, it’s like babysitting toddlers with drinking problems,” she mutters.

“Hey,” Josh says, pointing his beer at her, “we’re elite-level athletes with drinking problems.”

Jenny doesn’t even blink. “So, toddlers with good cardio. Got it.”

Elsie snorts into her drink, shoulders shaking as she tries not to laugh too hard. I catch it, this tiny flicker of happiness, and it presses something painful into my chest.

She looks up, catches me watching.

For a moment, neither of us says a thing.

She smiles, small and soft, before turning back to Jenny. I swear, that one smile is more sobering than the beer in my hand.

“Alright,” Sam says, clearly bored of domestic harmony. “Let’s do something stupid.”

“No,” I say instantly.

“We didn’t drive all this way to sit quietly,” Liam agrees.

“You drove twenty minutes,” Cal mutters.

“Time is relative,” Sam fires back. “So. Who’s got cards?”

“Why do I feel like this ends with someone shirtless?” Jenny asks, already retreating to the safety of her corner.

“Because that’s always the plan,” Josh says.

Deano has produced a deck from some mystery bag, and before I can object, a game of cards is happening. It’s mostly bluffing and trash talk, nothing serious, but the volume rises quickly. Elsie’s still watching, occasionally leaning in to whisper something to Jenny, and every time she glances my way, my chest gets tighter.

I don’t know how to feel about it. Part of me wants to drag her away from all of this and just talk, actually talk, without everyone watching. The other part is terrified that once I get her alone, I’ll say something else I regret.

“What’s the bet, Wolfe?” Sam asks, nudging me with his elbow. “You in or out?”

I blink. “What?”

“Strip poker,” Josh offers helpfully, then immediately ducks as Jenny throws a coaster at him.

“It’s blackjack,” Cal explains, rolling his eyes. “But Josh thinks any game can become strip poker if he wishes hard enough.”

“Still not wrong,” Josh mumbles.

“I’m out,” I say, pushing back from the table slightly. “I’m good just watching.”

“Shocking,” Sam deadpans. “Because you’ve only been watching one thing all night.”

Cal chokes on his drink. Jenny makes a noise like she’s swallowed her own laughter. Even Elsie blushes.

“You’re hilarious,” I mutter, glaring at Sam.

“I try.”

He doesn’t push it though. None of them do. It’s all harmless, loud, and stupid. Exactly what I needed and didn’t realise.

I catch Elsie watching me again. Her gaze is steady now, a little softer than before. Not forgiving. Not fully. But curious. Hopeful, maybe.

I set my beer down and stand.

“Right. Enough chaos for one night.”

“You kicking us out?” Liam asks, grabbing another handful of sweets from the bowl on the table.

“Not yet,” I say. “Just need some air.”

“God, you and your balcony,” Josh mutters. “It’s your emotional support ledge.”

Elsie’s already rising.

“I’ll join him,” she says simply.

And just like that, the noise fades a little. The guys pretend they’re not all watching as we step outside, but I can feel the weight of their eyes even as the door clicks shut behind us.

I lean on the railing, and she stands beside me, arms folded.

“I forget how quiet it can get,” I say eventually, keeping my voice low.

She glances over, not quite smiling, but something flickers across her face. “Not that quiet. You snuck out here to get away from Liam arguing with Sam over who gets the last cinnamon bun.”

Fair point.

I exhale slowly. “Okay, maybe I needed air more than silence.”

She leans against the railing, closer now. Her shoulder brushes mine. It’s soft, casual, but it makes the tight knot in my chest ease a little more.

“They’ve calmed down, though,” she says. “Jenny’s threatened to take the PlayStation hostage if they don’t behave.”

I snort. “She could take the whole apartment hostage and they’d still try to sneak around her.”

We fall quiet again. But not because we’ve run out of things to say. It just feels good, not forcing it.

“I missed this,” I admit.

She looks up at me. “What part?”

“This,” I say, gesturing between us. “Just… talking. Without it being some massive thing. No edge. No tension.”

Elsie nods slowly. “It’s the first time in a while it hasn’t felt like we’re one word away from blowing it up.”

“Yeah.”

I rest my arms on the rail, watching the glow of traffic in the distance. Her hair’s catching the wind again, falling across her cheek. She doesn’t tuck it behind her ear, and I don’t reach to do it for her. That kind of thing feels too easy, too much like the version of us from before.

“I didn’t know if we’d get back here,” I say quietly.

“Neither did I.”

Another gust of wind moves through us. Cold, but not harsh.

“Did you ever think about just… not trying again?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer right away. I feel her shift her weight, her fingers tapping lightly against the metal.

“I did,” she says finally. “Not because I didn’t want to. But because I didn’t think you would.”

That hits harder than I expect.

I look at her. She’s not being cruel. Just honest.

“I almost didn’t,” I admit. “I wanted to protect myself. Pretend I didn’t care as much as I did.”

She exhales, steady. “And now?”

“Now I know I was lying.”

Her head tilts slightly, eyes soft but serious. “What changed?”

I reach out and gently brush that loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You did,” I say. “Showing up. Fighting for it when you had every reason to walk away. I couldn’t ignore that.”

She steps in, closing the small gap between us. Her hand rests lightly against my chest, and I cover it with mine.

She doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t try to. She just stands there, watching me like she’s still figuring out if this is real.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says.

“Good,” I murmur. “Because I’m not letting go this time.”

She smiles at me, and I glance back into the apartment.

“Okay, come on, drama time,” I say. She looks at me confused, but doesn’t ask, and I walk back in and sit down facing Cal.

Everyone else is doing what they always do. Drinking too much. Pushing too hard. Pretending like nothing’s falling apart. But Cal? He hasn’t even looked at anyone. Just sitting there, hunched over his beer, jaw clenched so tight it looks like it hurts. I’ve been watching him all night. The fake smiles. The quiet. The way he keeps checking his phone even though we both know no one’s going to text him.

I lean forward slowly, locking eyes with him.

“What’s really going on in your marriage?” I ask.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even pretend not to hear me. His fingers curl tighter around the bottle, and for a second I think he won’t answer. Then his voice comes, low and cracked.

“She needed a break.”

It’s a weak excuse. One that doesn’t explain why he hasn’t left my place in days. Why his temper’s shot. Why he’s been walking around like there’s a goddamn storm cloud tied to his back.

From the couch, Liam laughs, a quick, dry sound that cuts through the tension like a blade. “Yeah,” he mutters, “some break.”

Cal’s eyes flash. He turns slowly, glares like he’s one comment away from starting a fight. “Leave it the fuck alone.”

But I don’t. I can’t.

“No,” I say firmly. “You slept with someone else, Cal. You kissed Elsie. So what is this? You cheat now? Is that who you are?”

His head drops, eyes locked on the floor like it holds the answer he doesn’t want to say out loud.

Sam exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Just admit it, man. We’ve known for months. You’ve been checked out since not long after the baby was born. Flirting with girls on nights out. Staying out too long. Drinking more. You think we didn’t see it?”

Cal bolts up from the chair like he’s been hit, shoving the bottle onto the table hard enough that it tips over. He doesn’t care. He just stares at us like we’ve cornered him and taken away every excuse he has left.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want the truth? She left. She fucking left, alright?”

The words explode out of him, loud and bitter and so full of something raw it silences the whole room.

“She threw her ring at me. Screamed that I ruined everything. And then she left. Packed her shit. Took Ayla. Gone.”

He stands there, breathing hard, eyes red, voice shredded.

“I didn’t tell anyone because the second I say it out loud, it’s real. And if it’s real, it means I couldn’t fix it. That I let her down. That I let my daughter down. That I let myself down.”

His hands are trembling now. He looks like he’s going to punch a wall or break down or both. No one moves. No one breathes.

“You think I meant to sleep with someone else?” he continues. “You think I wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t her? I didn’t even realise how lonely I was until I wasn’t anymore. Until someone actually looked at me like I mattered. She stopped looking at me a long fucking time ago.”

He sits down again, burying his face in his hands. His whole body is shaking. The room feels too small. Too full of truth.

“I haven’t heard her voice in weeks. She sends updates through her mum. Medical stuff. Appointments. But she doesn’t talk to me. She’s just… gone. And I don’t even know when I stopped fighting to bring her back.”

I look around. Every single one of the guys who thought tonight was a good time to push him to admit the fucking truth, looks gutted.

Cal’s never been like this. Never this unguarded. This broken.

Maybe we should have done it weeks ago?

“How long ago, Cal?” I ask, needing to know.

“It’s been two months since she threw the ring at me and demanded a divorce, a month since she packed up and moved to her parents. I didn’t lie, it was over her never been at home, never been with Ayla.”

“And Ayla?” Sam asks.

“I’ve got a court date coming up to try and get custody so I can at least see her as she’s refusing me access.”

Staring at him, my head shakes. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“The guys are assholes,” he mutters.

“You could have told me Cal, everytime I ask you fucking say they are doing great. Every fucking time and you hadn’t even seen them!”

He doesn’t answer, just stares back down again. He’s still wearing his ring, like it makes a difference, it doesn’t.

Chapter 41

Elsie POV

The night started fine. It really did. There was food, laughter, and drinks passed around, and the guys stumbling over apologies with red faces and half-meant jokes. It felt like the worst of the mess was behind us. But now?

Now it’s tense.

I’m sitting on the arm of the couch, sipping a lukewarm drink, watching the way no one’s really laughing anymore. Their voices have dropped, especially on the other side of the room where Alex and the others are huddled, clearly in some kind of deep conversation.

And Cal… He’s sitting stiffly, his expression drawn tight, like someone pulled the life out of him and left the shell behind.

“I didn’t even know he was married,” I murmur, watching him.

Jenny nudges me gently with her knee, and I turn toward her.

“Leave it,” she whispers, eyes flicking toward the tension radiating from across the room.

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I just…” I lower my voice. “I feel bad for him. Did no one know? Like, none of the guys?”

“Apparently not.” Jenny leans closer, keeping her voice soft. “He told me last night.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You?”

She nods slowly, like she’s only now realizing how strange that sounds. “Yeah. We were talking. I mentioned my dad helping with your case, how it’s been a legal mess… and something in him just cracked. Said he’s going through a divorce. Said he might have to fight for time with his kid.”

So he had said it. It wasn’t all denial then.

But Jenny shakes her head like she knows what I’m thinking. “Oh, no. He’s still in denial. Trust me.”

“How?” I whisper, glancing at him again. His whole body is hunched forward, hands clasped between his knees.

“Because when he first spoke to me, he said he had a wife and kid. That he’d be heading back to them soon.” Jenny pauses, brows lifting. “And it wasn’t until I pointed out he kissed you that he hesitated. Then he finally admitted they’d split up.”

I stare down at my drink, suddenly uncomfortable. That kiss, what was a messy, confusing moment of grief and chaos for him clearly, was something I’ve tried not to think too hard about. I thought it was a one-off. I didn’t know he was walking around pretending to still be married.

Jenny watches my face, then sighs and leans back.

“I think he’s struggling,” she says gently. “Not just with admitting it’s over, but with the fact that he’s not seeing his kid. That’s what’s tearing him apart.”

I nod, my throat tight.

“I think,” she continues, voice softer now, “he never thought she’d actually leave. Like he was daring her to. Testing the line. Then one day, she didn’t come back.”

That hits harder than I want it to. Because it reminds me of how close Alex came to walking away from me. How easy it is to keep pushing people, thinking they’ll always stay, until they don’t.

I glance over at Cal again, the way he’s sitting surrounded by people, but still somehow looks completely alone.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, “I don’t think he’s really accepted it yet. Not deep down.”

And I wonder what happens when he finally does.

The air hasn’t cleared. If anything, it’s heavier now. Cal’s words are still hanging there, clinging to the walls like smoke no one wants to acknowledge. She left. He finally said it. The ring, the silence, the weight of it all, it’s out now, and no one seems to know what to do with the truth.

Sam shifts in his seat, suddenly looking like he regrets ever pushing. “Cal, man—”

“Don’t.” Cal’s voice is tired now. Not angry. Just frayed.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I said don’t.” He rakes a hand down his face, then grabs the bottle in front of him and pours another drink. The liquid sloshes over the rim a little, but he doesn’t care. “You got what you wanted. You all knew. I’ve just confirmed it. End of story.”

Alex watches him for a long second, eyes unreadable. Then he leans back and drags a hand through his hair. “It’s not the end of the story, Cal.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Cal laughs bitterly. “I’ve got a daughter who doesn’t understand why I’m not there. A woman I’ve loved since I was a teenager who looks at me now like I’m a stranger. And yeah, I kissed Elsie, which makes me a bigger prick than I thought possible. So no, it’s not the end of the story. But it’s the part where I don’t know how to fix anything anymore.”

Jenny doesn’t say a word. I don’t either. This version of Cal, the stripped back, not-joking, not-deflecting Cal, it’s uncomfortable to witness. Like we’re all intruding on something too private to watch, but too painful to look away from.

Alex’s voice comes quieter now. “You don’t need to fix everything at once. But you need to stop pretending it’s not broken.”

That lands. I see it in the way Cal exhales, in the way his shoulders finally drop a fraction.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “That’d be a start.”

No one speaks after that. Not for a while.

Eventually, the others start talking again. Not about Cal. About anything but. Someone makes a joke about Liam’s haircut, and the tension cracks just slightly. It’s like watching a room full of people desperately trying to glue something back together without knowing where to start.

I glance toward Alex, who meets my eyes from across the room. His expression is softer now. A little tired, but no longer haunted. He gives me a small nod, the kind that says not everything is fixed, but it’s not falling apart anymore either.

Chapter 42

Alex POV

I’m done for the night. My sister’s here now, sitting with Jenny and Elsie, and I’ve had enough. They don’t need me around. Not anymore. Not tonight. My body’s aching from lack of sleep, my brain’s fried, and all I want is a moment that doesn’t require being switched on.

Standing, I walk over to Elsie and slide my arms around her. She looks up, startled for a second, but she doesn’t protest when I lift her against me.

“Seriously?” Cal grumbles from his seat, half-laughing, half-exhausted. “You’re going to bail?”

Normally I’d shoot something back. A cheap dig about single guys and cold beds. But that would land all kinds of wrong tonight, and we both know it.

“I haven’t slept,” I say instead. “And I want some peace. So you have two options. Stay, clean up after yourselves, and let me sleep… or I throw you all out and still go to bed.”

They grumble, but don’t push it. Sam throws a cushion in my direction and mutters something about being old and boring, but I ignore it. My focus is on her. Only her.

As I carry her through the apartment, her fingers stroke the back of my neck slowly, teasing. So light it makes my whole body tighten.

I kick the bedroom door shut behind us and walk her to the bed, setting her down gently. I don’t let go. Not right away.

“Finally,” I breathe. “Some peace and quiet.”

She leans back on the mattress, looking up at me with a sly tilt to her smile. “So now you can kiss me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“You’ve barely touched me today,” she says, voice soft but full of heat. “I want a real kiss. No distractions. No interruptions.”

I’ve kept my distance. I wanted to give her room to breathe, to feel safe again after everything. But the way she looks at me now? There’s nothing uncertain in her eyes.

I reach for her, hand sliding behind her neck, pulling her toward me. My mouth crashes against hers, all restraint gone.

She gasps, then moans, pressing into me with full force. Her hands move quickly, tugging at the hem of my shirt, desperate to get it off. I let her. I need it too. Her touch, her skin, her warmth.

The shirt hits the floor, and her fingers are already at my belt, yanking it loose.

“Elsie,” I groan, trying to catch my breath.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she whispers against my lips.

That’s all it takes. Every bit of patience I’ve been clinging to snaps.

I push her back on the bed like I’ve been starved for her. Because I have. Every inch of her skin makes my breath catch, and when I finally press my body over hers, it’s like the rest of the world disappears.

She arches into me, legs wrapping around my hips, hands in my hair. Her mouth finds mine again, and this time there’s no pause. No second guessing. Just us. Raw and desperate and real.

My hands roam her body like I’m rediscovering something sacred. Every curve, every inch of skin beneath my palms sparks a hunger I’ve been keeping on a leash for too long. I kiss her slowly at first, letting it build, letting her feel every ounce of the restraint I’ve been holding back. But she doesn’t want restraint. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me closer, her thighs parting beneath me like an invitation she’s daring me not to answer.

I groan low in my throat, the sound lost against her mouth. My hand skims up her side, over her ribs, dragging her shirt with it until I feel the bare skin beneath. She’s warm, soft, already trembling. I pull back just enough to yank her top over her head, then toss it aside without a second glance. Her bra follows, unclipped and dropped between us, and then she’s bare to me, her chest rising and falling with each breath like she’s waiting for me to take what she’s offering.

I don’t wait.

I drop my head, mouth closing around her nipple, sucking hard enough to make her gasp and arch beneath me. Her back lifts off the mattress, her hands clutching my shoulders like she’s anchoring herself. I give her the same treatment on the other side, teeth grazing just enough to make her squirm, then slide lower, trailing kisses down the center of her body until I’m on my knees at the edge of the bed.

She watches me, wide-eyed, chest flushed, lips parted.

“Lift your hips,” I say, voice rough, and she obeys without a word.

I hook my fingers into her waistband and tug both her leggings and panties down in one motion, dragging them down her legs slowly enough to make her writhe. I let my fingers linger as I peel the last of the fabric from her ankles, then toss the bundle away before rising back over her.

She’s spread out across the bed, flushed and breathless and looking at me like I’m the only thing that makes sense in her world. And maybe I am. Maybe she is in mine too.

I drop my mouth to her thigh, kiss the soft skin there, then higher. She lets out a choked sound when I part her with my fingers and run my tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate. She tastes like everything I’ve missed. Everything I’ve needed.

“Alex,” she gasps, hands flying to my hair.

I don’t stop. I pin her hips to the mattress and work her slowly, building her up with deep strokes and soft sucks until her thighs are shaking around my head and her breathing turns ragged.

“I can’t—fuck, I’m close—”

I pull back. Just a breath away from tipping her over. I blow softly on her soaked skin, smirking at the noise she makes.

“You think I’m letting you come that easy?” I murmur. “Not a chance.”

She stares at me, dazed and wrecked, pupils blown wide. “You’re a bastard.”

“You knew that already.”

I move back up her body, letting my weight press her into the mattress as I kiss her again. She tastes like desperation and frustration and heat. She kisses me like she wants to devour me. Her hands are on my belt again, this time ripping it open with no finesse, just urgency. I help her, unbuttoning and unzipping, shoving my jeans and boxers down far enough to free myself.

Her gaze drops, her breath catching as I grip myself, stroking once before lining up between her thighs.

“You ready?” I ask, low.

She grabs my face in both hands and kisses me hard. “I’ve been ready for days.”

That’s all the answer I need.

I push into her slowly, inch by inch, feeling the way she stretches to take me, the way she clings. Her mouth drops open, her body trembling under mine as I fill her completely.

“Fuck,” I groan, burying my face in her neck.

There’s no rush now. Just the burn, the stretch, the way her breath hitches with every inch. I don’t move right away. I just stay there, buried to the hilt, letting her get used to the fullness, to the weight of me.

She shifts beneath me, hips tilting. “Move, Alex. Please.”

I start to thrust. Deep, slow, grinding into her with precision. Not fast. Not yet. Just enough to make her feel every stroke, every drag of skin against skin.

She clutches at me, her fingers raking down my spine, her thighs locking tighter around my hips. I kiss her again, rougher this time, then move to her jaw, her throat, nipping and sucking my way down to her collarbone.

“Say it,” I growl, thrusting harder. “Tell me who’s inside you.”

“You,” she gasps. “Only you.”

“That’s right.”

I shift her leg higher, changing the angle, and she cries out, the sound unfiltered and raw. I keep going, grinding deeper, fucking her harder until the bed rocks beneath us and the headboard thuds a rhythm against the wall.

Her moans get higher, faster, more frantic. She’s right there again, teetering on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” she begs, voice wrecked. “Don’t stop—don’t—”

But I stop.

She lets out a strangled whimper, trying to chase the friction, but I hold her still.

“Alex,” she cries. “You’re killing me.”

I kiss her again, slower this time. “You’ll come when I say. Not before.”

“You’re such an arsehole.”

I grin against her skin. “You love it.”

I start moving again, faster now, harder. The sound of skin on skin fills the room. Her gasps dissolve into sobs of pleasure as I pound into her, relentless now, every thrust a promise, a claim, a goddamn brand. She’s mine. And I want her to feel it for days.

Her body tightens, her nails dig in, and when I know she’s seconds from coming again, I give her what she needs. I press against her clit, hard, and slam into her once more.

“Come for me,” I demand. “Now.”

She shatters beneath me, her whole body convulsing around my cock as she screams my name. I follow her over seconds later, thrusting through the aftershocks as I spill inside her, burying myself so deep she won’t forget this. Won’t forget me.

We collapse together, sweat-slicked and trembling, her arms winding around me as I breathe through the high.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, voice barely there.

I don’t answer. I just hold her, heart racing, my face buried in her hair. There’s nothing else I need right now. Just this. Just her.

Eventually, I roll onto my side, dragging her with me so she’s curled against my chest. She doesn’t let go. And I don’t want her to.

I kiss the top of her head.

“You’re staying here forever,” I murmur. “No arguments.”

She laughs softly, eyes already drifting shut. “Wasn’t planning to leave.”

Good. Because I’m not letting her go. Not tonight. Not ever.

Chapter 43

Elsie POV

I watch Alex fly across the ice, skates slicing clean through the surface as he moves like it’s second nature. Every pass and every shift of weight is so smooth that it looks effortless. But I know better. He’s all precision and control, honed through years of pressure and scrutiny most people would crack under.

The arena hums around me, filled with the noise of fans and the dull rumble of commentary. But I barely hear it. It’s been six months since everything blew up, and somehow, here we are. Still standing and now thriving

My apartment’s back to normal. Furniture replaced. Walls patched. Locks reinforced. But I’m barely ever there. I spend more time at Alex’s or traveling with him for games. At this point, it’s more Jenny’s apartment than mine, and she doesn’t seem to mind. She even redecorated the living room without asking.

My ex-boss hasn’t come near me since. I didn’t know why at first. Then I found out Alex handled it. Whatever he said or did, it was enough. There was no apology, followed by silence. And honestly, that was more than I expected. It’s over. That part, at least.

I still write. Still chase the stories. But now I do it for a sports channel that actually gives a damn about the game. About the athletes. The good they do. Not the scandals they’re forced into. No exposés. No sensational headlines. Just real stories, real people, real sport.

It’s refreshing. And it feels right.

Because after what happened, I couldn’t go back to the kind of journalism that tried to ruin Alex. That nearly ruined me.

My eyes follow him as he cuts left, makes a sharp pass to Cal, and doubles back. There’s something steady about watching him play. Something grounding. I love him, fully, and fiercely. Somehow, through all the damage and mistakes, one good thing came out of that story being leaked.

The people who were watching him—whoever they were, mafia or not, they backed off. Alex doesn’t think it’s over. He’s probably right. He said the silence is too clean, too well-timed. That if they let go so easily, it means they’re hiding something. Maybe another player on his team. Maybe something worse.

But for now, the threat is quiet. And the team is playing better than ever.

A body drops into the seat beside me and I turn to see Leah. She doesn’t look at me, just squints at the rink.

“How’s he doing?” she asks.

I smirk. “Who? Cal or your brother?”

She groans and gives me a playful shove. “Alex, obviously.”

“He’s doing great.” I glance back toward the rink, where he and Cal are weaving a tight play across the blue line. “Focused and strong. Like himself again.”

“Good,” she says, but I can hear the layers under it. Her eyes flick sideways toward Cal, then back. “Because he needs to be. The team needs him solid.”

I nod, but my thoughts drift elsewhere. Cal’s still complicated. Always is. He’s doing better too, but he’s not there yet. Leah and Jenny both have feelings for him, though neither of them say it out loud. Not where he can hear. Not where it would change the easy rhythm we’ve all somehow found.

But I know what it’ll come down to in the end.

It’ll be about Ayla.

Who steps up. Who handles the chaos. Who doesn’t just love Cal, but loves his daughter too.

I don’t know the full story, but I know this much. Cal’s ex hasn’t asked about her once in five months. Not a message has been sent or even a call made. She left Ayla and vanished, just like that. And maybe that’s for the best.

Because now Cal’s focused. He’s not trying to balance a one-sided marriage. He’s not being pulled in two directions. He’s here and he’s trying.

And I know Alex worries about him. Quietly. In ways he doesn’t always admit. But I see it.

Alex said he always thought Cal’s ex looked lost in motherhood. Like she never wanted it. Not really. And the longer she’s gone, the more it seems true.

Still, it’s hard. Watching someone you care about try to keep their head above water with no life jacket. Cal’s good at pretending, but the cracks show when he thinks no one’s looking.

I lean forward as Alex scores, the puck sliding into the net just past the goalie’s outstretched glove. The crowd erupts and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

Leah claps beside me, loud and proud. “He’s on fire tonight.”

“He always is when he’s pissed off about something,” I say, only half-joking.

Her brow lifts. “Pissed off?”

I shrug. “He doesn’t talk about it. But I know when something’s eating at him. The ice is the only place he can burn it off.”

Leah goes quiet, nodding like she understands that more than she wants to say out loud.

As the team skates off for a line change, I catch Alex’s eye from across the rink. He glances up, barely a flicker of movement, but his eyes find mine instantly. And in that split second, the noise of the arena fades.

Because that’s all it takes. Just that one look, it takes just one second for it to hit me. I remember exactly why I didn’t walk away.

I remember why I fought for months to ensure we stayed together, to make us better. I remember why I love him, and how complete he makes me feel.

I know though, that whatever comes next, whatever we face, we’ll face it together.

Chapter 44

Alex POV

The cold is sharp and familiar as I skate onto the ice. It cuts straight through the gear, through the heat of the stadium lights, and straight into my lungs with every breath. But I need it. I need the clarity it brings. Out here, it’s just movement. Instinct. Noise fades, thoughts quiet, and all that’s left is the game.

I stay in motion, the blade of my skate catching the ice, launching me forward with power that coils down through my legs and drives me into the rhythm of the match. The puck sails across the rink. Cal’s just ahead of me. I track him automatically, my eyes locked on his stride as he pivots fast, skating wide around the opposing winger.

He’s fast tonight, but not sharp. There’s hesitation in the way he checks over his shoulder, like his head isn’t entirely here. It’s been happening more often lately. I don’t mention it. Not yet. But I see it.

I call out to him, and his name cuts through the echo of blades and distant cheering, and he turns just in time for the pass.

The puck leaves my stick with a snap, sailing clean and low. It hits Cal’s tape like we rehearsed it, and for a second, I think he’s going to fumble it. But he doesn’t. He absorbs it, controls it, and drives forward.

I follow, skating hard, watching him weave through the last two defenders like something finally clicked. He drops his shoulder, fakes left, then shifts just enough to fire off a wrist shot. The puck lifts, sharp and controlled, and buries itself in the top corner of the net.

The goal light flashes. The buzzer screams.

I throw my arms up, already coasting toward him. He turns, grin breaking across his face just as I reach him. We slam into each other, gloves colliding, a couple rough helmet bumps as the rest of the team floods around us.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter as I grip his shoulder.

He breathes hard, nodding once, but I still see it, the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something not here. Something that’s not hockey.

The buzzer marking the end of the game roars overhead and the crowd erupts. The scoreboard confirms it—4–3. We held them off. Barely.

We skate off the ice, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, the sounds of the crowd swelling behind us. But even as we file into the locker room, jerseys sticking, adrenaline buzzing under my skin, I can’t stop watching him.

He played like hell tonight.

But not for the win.

Not even for the team.

He played like he needed to prove something to himself.

And I know damn well how that feels.

Cal’s life is a mess right now, not in the way that screams disaster, but in the quieter kind that creeps in and sits heavy on your chest. I was right from the beginning. The second he mentioned taking her to court for visitation, his wife showed up. She signed the divorce papers, handed Ayla over for the night, and walked out without looking back.

She never returned.

Her parents said she’s happy and told him to leave her alone.

So now he’s here. No wife. No closure. A toddler who clings to his shirt like he’s the only stable thing in her world. And he is. But everyone can see he’s barely holding it together.

He’s got a nanny, yeah. Someone who helps during games or when he needs to breathe. But it’s not the same. He’s tired. That bone-deep kind of tired that doesn’t go away with a nap or a quiet evening. The kind that comes from watching everything you built fall apart, then trying to hold what’s left together with your bare hands.

I nudge him gently with my shoulder as we peel off gear in the locker room. He doesn’t look up.

“Not tonight,” he mutters.

“For fuck’s sake, Cal. Again?” Sam groans, ripping the tape from his stick and tossing it into his bag. “It’s been over a month since you came out with us.”

Cal just shrugs, rubbing the towel through his hair like if he keeps moving, he won’t have to answer.

I glance at him, then over to Sam. “How about this. Bring Ayla to mine. We’ll keep it low-key. Elsie’s already at the apartment, she’ll have Jenny over. I’ll text Leah too. Between us, we can manage her for a night.”

Cal glares at me, jaw tight.

“I’m not saying you need to do anything,” I add. “Just make sure you don’t fuck either one of them until you’ve made your damn mind up.”

Sam whistles low. “Or,” he says way too loudly, “you keep dragging it out and soon there won’t be any space in the bed. Leah and Jenny’ll end up in it together.”

My hand slaps over my face immediately. “Jesus Christ, don’t talk like that about my sister.”

“To be fair,” Liam adds from across the room, tossing his water bottle in the bin, “they have been getting closer. Are you sure they’re not just going to ditch him entirely and get together?”

“I’m done,” I mutter, pushing off the bench. “You lot are coming to mine. Tonight.”

I turn on Cal. “That means you. I don’t care if you bring your nanny, your kid, or a damn pet hamster. But you’re coming. No excuses. No hiding behind sleepless nights and diapers. Just one night.”

He doesn’t answer, but I see the twitch in his jaw. It’s not a no.

I leave it at that and head toward the exit. The hallway’s quieter, cooler, and waiting at the end of it, like always, is Elsie.

She leans against the wall in one of my oversized hoodies, scrolling on her phone, like she hasn’t just turned my life inside out and made herself comfortable in the wreckage. When she looks up and sees me, she smiles, and it hits me all over again.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into me without a word. Her body folds into mine like it belongs there. Her hands slide under the hem of my shirt, fingers warm against my back.

I fucking love this woman. Not just in the way people say it when they’re trying to prove something. I mean in the way it fills my chest until it aches. In the way she wormed her way under my skin and now refuses to leave. In the way I don’t want her to.

I’ll bury her deeper, again and again, if it means I get to keep her.

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The End