Her gaze flicks over me, taking in the suit jacket, the exhaustion, the rain still dripping from my hair. “You’re supposed to be—”
“Somewhere I didn’t want to be,” I finish for her.
A thousand words live in the silence between us. The rain, the headlines, the lies, the press conference.
She finally breathes, the sound small and shaky. “I saw you on TV.”
“I figured.”
“You looked…” Her voice falters. “Trapped.”
“I was.”
Her throat works. “And now?”
“Free.”
The word lands heavy. True.
Her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to see if I mean it. “You left all of it?”
“All of it,” I say. “The sponsors. The contracts. Harris.”
Her laugh breaks, part disbelief, part heartbreak. “You really are insane.”
“Maybe.” I take a step closer, close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose. “But I’m done letting someone else own my story.”
Her lips tremble. “And what story’s that?”
“The one that ends here,” I say quietly. “With you.”
Her breath stutters. The sound of the ocean fills the space between us.
She doesn’t move when I reach up and brush a strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft. Her eyes close on a shiver.
For a heartbeat, everything in me tilts toward her—every nerve, every memory, every word I didn’t say.
Then she opens her eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I should,” I whisper. “I needed to be.”
The way she looks at me—torn between anger and relief—undoes me completely.
“You can’t just show up after all that and expect—”
“I don’t expect anything,” I cut in. “Just a chance to explain.”
She swallows. “Then explain.”
“I said things I didn’t mean because they told me to. I let them control the story because I thought it was the only way to keep everything together. But the truth is—everything I was holding on to wasn’t worth what I almost lost.”
Her eyes glisten. “And what was that?”
“You.”
She lets out a broken sound, half laugh, half sob. “You always did know how to ruin a girl’s defenses.”
“I’m not trying to ruin anything,” I say softly. “I’m trying to rebuild.”
