Two days later,I'm standing in the ballroom of the Plaza, watching the gala come to life around me. Every detail is perfect. The lighting, the flowers, and the table settings. My team has executed flawlessly, and I can see the impressed looks on guests' faces as they take in the elegance of the space.
This is my goodbye to the Renegades. After tonight, our contract will be complete, and I'll probably never see Cole again except in passing at public events.
The thought should bring relief. Instead, it feels like a death.
I spot Cole across the room, and my legs weaken. He's socializing, playing his role as captain perfectly, but even from this distance, he looks tired. My chest constricts.
I force myself to look away and focus on the event. The dinner service goes smoothly, and the awards presentations run on schedule.
Then it's time for Cole's captain's speech.
I position myself at the back of the ballroom, near the exit, ready to slip away once he's finished. I know what to expect. The usual diplomatic thanks to sponsors, fans, and the organization. Professional and polished, just like everything else about Cole Maddox.
But when he takes the stage, something in his demeanor is different. He looks out over the crowd, his eyes scanning until they find mine in the back of the room. For a moment, time stops.
“Good evening,” he begins, his voice carrying easily through the sound system. “This has been an incredible season for the Renegades organization.”
He talks about the team's success, the playoff berth, and the support of the fans. Standard captain speech material. But then his tone shifts.
“Before I finish, I need to address something personal.” The room goes quiet. “Over the past few weeks, there's been speculation about the professional relationship between the Renegades and Hayes & Company Events.”
My blood runs cold.What is he doing?
“I want to set the record straight,” Cole continues, his eyes finding mine again. “Harper Hayes earned her position with us through merit, talent, and an extraordinary work ethic. She's also the woman I'm in love with, and I'm not ashamed to say it.”
Gasps ripple through the crowd. My hands fly to my mouth, tears blurring my vision.
“I made the mistake of letting my career concerns overshadow what really matters,” Cole says, his voice clear. “I let fear dictate my actions instead of following my heart. Harper, if you're listening, I'm sorry. I choose you. I choose us. I choose love over everything else.”
The ballroom erupts in surprised murmurs and scattered applause. I'm frozen at the back of the room, tears streaming down my face, unable to process what just happened.
Cole just claimed me publicly. He risked his image, his privacy, his carefully controlled public persona to restore my reputation and declare his love.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur. Guests approach me with congratulations and support, many admitting they'd suspected there was something between Cole and me.
My team handles the breakdown while I float through the motions, still in shock. Cole and I haven’t spoken privately, but we’ll have time when this is over. Besides, it’s giving me time to actually believe what just happened.
Cole chose me.
By the time the last guest leaves, it's nearly midnight and pouring rain outside. I'm gathering my things when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Harper.”
I turn to find Cole standing in the empty ballroom, his bow tie undone, jacket slung over his arm. He looks vulnerable, uncertain, and so different from the confident captain who just declared his love to three hundred people.
“That was quite a speech,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I meant every word.” He takes a step closer. “I'm sorry, Harper. For the press conference, for choosing the safe path, for making you feel invisible. I was wrong.”
“Oh, Cole.” I’m afraid I’m going to do something stupid like burst into tears.
“I'd rather fail at hockey with you than succeed without you,” he says, his voice raw. “I love you. I want to build a life with you, support your dreams, be your partner in everything.”
The walls I've built around my heart finally crumble. “I love you too,” I say, the words torn from somewhere deep inside. “I was so scared of being vulnerable, of losing myself. I used my independence as a shield against getting hurt.”
“We don't have to lose ourselves to love each other,” Cole says, reaching for my hands. “We can be stronger together.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
