Helping her didn’t change who I was. Didn’t change where this was going.
At least, that was what I told myself.
Then I caught myself smiling—barely, but real.
Yeah. I was screwed.
Chapter 13
Ellery
For once, the office was quiet — the good kind of quiet. The after-hours hum of the copy machine, the low chatter from the volunteers finishing up, the smell of coffee that had gone lukewarm but still felt like comfort.
I sat at my desk, the last bit of sunlight spilling across the new sponsorship agreements — the ones Beckett had somehow pulled together out of thin air. Every document was perfect. Clean signatures. Confirmed deposits. No loopholes. No maybes. It should’ve been impossible, and yet… there it was.
I took another sip of coffee, pretending my pulse hadn’t just eased for the first time all week.
Naomi strolled in, leaning against the doorway with her usual grin. “You look like someone who just got rescued by the human equivalent of a storm warning.”
I groaned. “Don’t call him that.”
She smirked. “Then what should I call him? Knight in slightly dented armor?”
I shook my head, fighting a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Hey, I’m not the one he keeps coming back for,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes and looked back down at the contracts, mostly to hide my face. The truth was, I didn’t know what to do with him. Beckett Mason was a contradiction I couldn’t quite file away — all sharp edges and unexpected gestures, like he didn’t know how to be kind without pretending it wasn’t.
“He drives me crazy,” I muttered, signing the last page.
Naomi tilted her head. “But?”
“But nothing.”
She snorted, unconvinced, and left me to my thoughts.
I stared at the stack of papers, tracing the embossed logo with my fingertip. He drives me crazy. But he keeps showing up. That was the problem. He didn’t owe me anything. The sponsorships, the late-night repairs, the small things no one asked him to do — they weren’t obligations. They were choices. And every time he chose to help, it chipped away at the neat little boundaries I’d built between us.
I glanced at my phone. No new messages from Kyle. He was still away with the team, probably celebrating their win or preparing for another match. A part of me wanted to tell him about the new sponsors, the miracle Beckett had pulled off — but the words wouldn’t come. Kyle would congratulate me, sure, but it wouldn’t feel the same. He’d mean well, but he’d miss the weight of it — the relief, the gratitude, the quiet awe.
Beckett hadn’t just filled a financial gap. He’d reminded me what it felt like to be seen.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, my mind unwilling to stop circling the same thought, He keeps showing up.
Even when it wasn’t convenient. Even when I didn’t ask. Especially when I didn’t ask.
Outside, the streetlights flickered on one by one, their glow softening through the window. The day was almost over, but for the first time in weeks, the knot in my chest felt looser. The gala might actually happen. The kids would get their scholarships.
And Beckett Mason — the storm I hadn’t seen coming — had somehow helped steady everything.
I exhaled, a small laugh escaping before I could catch it. “You’re ridiculous,” I told myself.
But the smile stayed anyway.
Later that day, Beckett showed up for the follow-up meeting with the same backwards cap, same half-bored expression, and the same kind of energy that filled a room without trying.
“Tell me this one’s shorter than last time,” he said, dropping into the chair across from me like it owed him something.
