Even with a win like that, the kind of game that should’ve earned me sleep for a week, I tossed like a man possessed. Her name rolled through my head like a fever.Jade.Her face on that screen. Her lips parted like she didn’t breathe until I spoke her name.
And that bastard Kavanaugh walking her out like she was his.
I should’ve snapped.
But I didn’t. I played the long game.
I waited.
And when Xavier casually dropped that the girls would be out at the Royal Oaks Polo Fields early—learning to ride for that forsaken charity gala—I was already pulling on a black tee and boots before he finished the sentence.
I don’t belong out there. That’s horse territory.
But Jade?
She’s worth every step through the mud.
Chapter 15
JADE
By the timeI reach Shani’s street, my hands are still shaking.
She’s already outside waiting, pacing the driveway with her arms wrapped tight around herself like she’s cold, even though she’s wearing one of her dad’s oversized fire department hoodies.
The moment I park, she’s yanking the door open.
“Girl. Get inside. Right now.”
I follow her, still rattled. My nerves are shot, my heart won’t slow down, and everything inside me feels like it’s melting together.
Shani’s dad, stands in the hallway with a dish towel over his shoulder like he was in the middle of doing something extremely domestic before his home turned into a celebrity hideout.
He takes one look at me and sighs in that dad-way that meansI knew the world was going to hell eventually but I didn’t expect it tonight.
“Alright, Jade,” he says calmly. “Breathe. You’re safe. I texted your aunt. I’m heading to your place to grab your overnight stuff.”
“Oh no—really, I can do it later, I don’t want you dealing with?—”
He raises a hand like he’s stopping traffic.
“I’m a grown man. I can handle a few nosy neighbors and teenagers with camera phones.”
He grabs his keys. “Also, your aunt said the cats are staging a coup.”
I half-laugh, half-wince. “That sounds about right.”
As he leaves, he calls out, “You’re staying here tonight. No arguments. And no school tomorrow. Sleeping in is mandatory.”
I blink. “Right. It’s Thanksgiving break tomorrow. I forgot.”
“Of course you did,” Shani mutters, tugging me inside. “Your life is a telenovela now.”
We collapse onto her giant sectional couch.
She tosses me a fuzzy blanket, the kind that makes you feel six years old and safe.
“My parents are so going to freak when my mom gets home,” she says. “Wanna know why?”
