Page 97 of Unleashed

I pressed my thumb to my wrist. Inhale. One, two, three. Release. “Thank you. For what you did today. You didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I did.” He stepped closer, shrinking the space between us. Damp cotton. Clean skin. The faint trace of rain and effort. The scent reached me before his words did—pulling up memories I fought daily to suppress. “I saw the Little League piece. Puppy pulled it up on his phone, practically shoved it in my face. You didn’t oversell it. No dramatic soundtrack. No fake tears. Just a bunch of kids chasing the puck, falling over their own skates, grinning like they owned the ice. You made the story feel like it came from here.” He rested his hand on his chest, over his heart.

His gaze flicked to the bulletin board behind me—where our storyboard still hung, curling at the edges.

“He didn’t stop there. Boy’s been on a mission. The Rec Center campaign. The firefighter piece. You and Adele aren’t chasing clients—you’re showing up for people. Listening. Taking the time to make them feel seen. I’ve heard how folks talk about you now. Quiet respect. That doesn’t come easy in a town like this. You even cracked the Pendleton bubble today.”

Another step. Closer still.

“You reminded me what this was supposed to be about.” The words spilled out before I could catch them. My voice thickened. I didn’t try to clear it. “The way you played out your last season… how you kept showing up, even when your body couldn’t. Even when only my cameras were watching. That stuck with me. It made me look at what I’d been doing—and what I gave up when I let the work become about winning instead of telling the truth.”

I met his eyes, my chest tight.

“You didn’t just make me want to getyourstory right. You made me want to getmineright too. To stop running toward noise and start choosing work I could be proud of. Even if it’s small. Even if it never makes it past this town.”

I licked my lips, my heart pounding in my ears. “The tribute episode. You watched it.”

“Not at first.” Another step closer. My heart thundered in time with the storm. “Took me a while to be ready. To understand why you left it.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “I needed you to know. Even if you never watched it. Even if you hated me forever. I needed to mark the moment I finally got it right.”

His brows pulled slightly, something flickering behind his eyes. “Got what right?”

“Your story.” My voice cracked. “Not the clickbait Malone wanted. Not the drama that would trend on social media. Just... you. The man who made everyone around him better. Who led by example even when it cost him everything.”

Lightning flashed. For a second, I could see every line in his face. The weight he’d carried. The emotion he didn’t hide. “Not everything.”

Silence pressed between us. Heavy with all the things I hadn’t said. More than three months of distance and regret. Three months of imagining how different things could’ve been if I’d been brave enough to choose him sooner.

“It was torture, working the playoffs,” I whispered. The admission scraped my throat raw. “Watching you power through it. Through the drama. Through the pain I knew you had to be feeling every minute of every day.” I rolled my lips. “Adele and I did most of the work in the end. Traver had turned Team Malone and I just couldn’t trust anyone to get it right. And it was so important to me toget it right.”

“I wanted to call. After every game. After every hit you took, every shift you skated through when I knew your knee had to be on fire. I wanted to tell you I was sorry. That I—”

Jack’s gaze sharpened. “That you what?”

Another step closed the space between us. His nearness set every nerve buzzing.

“That I fell in love with you.”

The words fell from my lips, raspy and trembling, too raw to take back.

“That I missed you every damn day. That I should’ve said it when it still mattered. And that you were—God, Jack—you werebrilliantin that series. Strong. Focused. So determined I couldn’t breathe watching you fight through it. After Game Seven, I just wanted to find you. Hold you. Be the place where you could crash, be safe.” I winced at the irony of my words. I’d done everything but make a safe place for him. And I’d regret that until the day I died.

His jaw shifted—tight, then loose, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to clench or speak. “Instead, you left.”

“Because I’d already done enough damage.” My voice caught and my eyes burned. “Because you made it clear I was a distraction. And I knew you were right. I couldn’t stay in Austin. Not after what I did. Not with Malone breathing down my neck. I pushed that last episode through behind his back, packed up our gear, and left with Adele the next morning.”

My fingers drifted to my wrist. The old habit. But before I could press down, his hand covered mine—warm, solid, and grounding. The contact lit up everything inside me, electric and aching.

“I didn’t expect forgiveness,” I whispered. “But I had to figure out who I was without the noise. Without the pressure. I needed to remember why I started doing this in the first place. And I never would’ve gotten there if it weren’t for you.” I sucked in a breath. “You were done with me. Wouldn’t even look at me after that episode. I figured I’d already ruined everything—so when the season wrapped up, I disappeared.”

“Shouldn’t that have been my choice?” His hand tightened around mine—not hard, just enough to hold me in place.

“You were drowning, and I didn’t see it. Not really.” His thumb pressed gently against my wrist, grounding. Not comforting. Just steady. “I knew you were trying to get your career back. Knew about Sydney and the mess she left behind. You explained it, and I thought I got it. But I didn’t see how deep it went—how much Malone had you cornered. All those promises, all that pressure... you were boxed in so tight you stopped looking for doors.”

He exhaled, slow and even, his gaze warm on mine. “I’ve made hard calls, Lily. Plenty. But even when the options sucked, I held the line. Did what I thought was right—even if no one else understood it.”

I shut my eyes, too tight, like darkness might hold me together. My fingers twitched in his grip, trying to pull free. He didn’t let go.

---