“My mate Cormac handles most of the academy. He runs everything by me, but he’s the one truly keeping it going day to day. His wife, Aisling, was the one who started the social media accounts ages ago, but I’ve no clue who’s running them now, to tell you the truth.”
“I’d love to help,” she says, eyes bright. “They’re doing great, but I could give them a few tips. I’ve got a strategy I think could really grow your audience, if that’s okay of course.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” I say with a small smile, glancing down, unsure what to do with the sudden warmth rising in my chest.
“Rogue…” She places her hand on my arm. Her touch is light but steady, and it pulls my eyes back to hers. “What you’re doing isincredible.I’d love to be a part of it… if you’ll let me.”
And only God knows I’d let her be a part ofanythingshe ever wanted.
She doesn’t pull her hand away right away, and I don’t move either. For a moment, it’s just us, the low hum of the engines, the faint clink of glass somewhere down the aisle, the scent of champagne and vanilla hanging between us.
Her fingers rest against my arm, warm, steady. A small touch, but it undoes me in ways I don’t care to name.
She’s looking at me like she seespastthe noise, past the stories, past the headlines that turned me into something I’m not. It’s unsettling how easy it feels. How much I want to stay here, in this tiny pocket of calm, 30,000 feet in the air.
When she finally pulls her hand back, my skin feels colder for it. She leans against her seat, eyes heavy, the champagne catching up with her. There’s a half-eaten macaron in her hand, and I have the sudden, ridiculous urge to take it from her before it falls.
“Hey,” I murmur, nodding toward it. “You planning on finishing that or just holding it hostage?”
She laughs softly, eyes fluttering open again. “I’m pacing myself.”
“Right,” I say, fighting a smile. “Wouldn’t want to overdo it.”
Her laugh fades into a sleepy grin, and she turns toward the window. The cabin lights dim to a soft amber glow, painting her face in gold.
I watch her for a moment longer than I should. She’s wearing a faint smile, her lashes brushing her cheeks, her breaths steady. I tell myself to look away but can’t.
Something stirs in my chest, quiet but certain. A knowing.
I’ve spent years keeping my world neat, controlled, predictable. But sitting here, with her asleep beside me, the hum of the plane beneath my feet and the taste of champagne still on my tongue, I know nothing’s ever going to be the same again.
Chapter 16
Iwake up to sunlight spilling across my sheets, warm and too bright for how late I must’ve slept in. My body feels heavy, but my mind won’t stop replaying the last twenty-four hours—Houston, the flight,him.
Rogue Gallagher.
The name alone twists my stomach in ways I’m not ready to admit. I’m not supposed to be thinking about him first thing in the morning, but here we are.
He opened up to me last night. Really opened up. I still can’t believe it. He told me about his mom, about the academy, about things I never imagined he’d share, and each word carried a little piece of him with it.
I stretch, groaning softly, and pull the blanket over my face for a second. “You really had to drink champagne, didn’t you?”I mutter to myself. Should I have? Probably not. Should I have laughed so much? Definitely not.
And yet… I can’t bring myself to regret it.
What happened on that flight felt different. Like we weren’t just coworkers anymore. The line I’ve been so carefully toeing suddenly blurred, and I didn’t stop it.
When we landed, he grabbed my bag before I could protest. Just… took it from my hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. Walked beside me the entire way through the terminal, his stride matched to mine. When he offered to take me home, I told him Bri was picking me up, but that didn’t stop him from walking me all the way to the parking lot.
People stared, phones came out, a few shouted his name, but he didn’t care. He stayed close, quiet, protective in that unassuming way of his. “It’s late,” he’d said.“Wouldn’t sit right letting you walk out on your own.”
And then there was Bri.God, Bri.
The way her eyes went wide when she saw us approaching, how she climbed out of the car, trying to be casual but failing miserably.
“Holy shit, is that Rogue Gallagher?” she’d whispered, loud enough for half the lot to hear.
By the time we were driving away, she was grinning at me like the cat that got the cream. “Youandthe Irish wall, huh? Should I start planning the wedding or the scandal headline first?”
