Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
JADE
I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again.
Not real happiness—the kind that seeps into your bones when you’re not looking, and makes you hum without knowing it.
The kind that hits you in the middle of nowhere—brushing your teeth, doing your homework, running across the field—when you suddenly realize: I’m okay. I’m more than okay. I’m… good.
Somehow, I’d built a new life out of broken pieces.
At Royal Oaks, I wore my varsity letter like armor. Game days became my sacred ground. I flew down the field like it was mine, played like I had nothing to lose—because I’d already lost everything once. I wasn’t just holding my own. I was killing it.
And Leo?
He was always there.
Back row of the bleachers with Tristan and Xavier, decked out in Royal Oaks gear like it was designer. Aviators on. Hoodies half-zipped. Phones off, eyes on me. The golden trio watching their new girl turn into something fierce. Something untouchable.
“Are you sure this isn’t weird?” Leo asked, smoothing his hand through his hair as we walked up the stone path to my aunt’s little beach shack.
“She put on lipstick for the first time since 1998,” I said. “Trust me. You’re her royal guest.”
He laughed, and it was this deep, warm sound that made my insides feel like melted chocolate. The fall sun was fading, streaking the sky in amber and rose. The salty wind tugged at my curls. His hand found mine.
Inside, Aunt Susan had pulled out the good china. The cracked ones with the bluebells on the rim and a tiny chip in the corner that she said “added character.” She roasted chicken. Lit candles. Even the cats behaved, lounging like little royal guards on the sofa.
Leo was charming—too charming.
By the time dessert rolled around, Aunt Susan was asking him if he had any interest in a career in politics. He claimed he’d rather run a speakeasy than a senate seat, and she roared with laughter.
We cleaned the dishes together. Leo drying, me rinsing. Elbows bumping. Secrets passed with glances and grins.
When we stepped out onto the back deck, the moon hung low over the water and his arms circled my waist from behind.
“I like it here,” he murmured into my hair. “It feels real.”
Some nights, we’d escape.
Just the two of us and the cliffs, wrapped in the scent of salt and wind and woodsmoke from some far-off chimney. His car parked in the dirt. The stars overhead, blinding and bright.
We’d talk for hours. About everything. About nothing.
My fears. His secrets.
Our pasts. Our maybe futures.
He’d hold me like I was breakable. Kiss me like I wasn’t.
Sometimes it would get… heated.
Hands under shirts. Breathless moans. My thighs tangled in his lap. His mouth on my collarbone. But we’d always stop. Always pull back.
“I want to earn you,” he’d say.
And somehow, that wrecked me more than anything else.
The email came after last period. My school account pinged with a notification, and I almost deleted it without reading. Just another school announcement, I thought.
Except it wasn’t.
It was from a D1 school in Boston. The coach had seen my game footage. “Explosive speed, tactical vision, exceptional field presence.” They wanted me to visit campus. Tour the locker room. Talk scholarships.
I stared at the screen like it might burst into flames.
My hands were shaking.
Then came another.
And another.
Three schools. One day. Real ones. Not just “dream big” posters in a guidance counselor's office. These were the kind of offers girls trained their whole lives for.
I looked up. Shani had seen my face.
“What is it?” she whispered.
I turned the screen.
Her eyes widened. “Holy—”
“Shhh!”
I ran to the courtyard, fingers numb. Dialed Leo. He was at his private basketball coach’s gym.
“You good?” he answered, voice low and amused.
“Can you meet me? Soon? Maybe tonight?”
“I’m almost done here. Then I’ll shower. Pick you up at seven?”
“I’ll be ready.”
I jumped in his car, slammed the door, turned the screen to him and whispered, “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
He read the email. Then another. And another.
Then looked at me.
“Baby,” he said. “You’re a fucking rocket ship.”
I laughed through the tears. “You think?”
“I know. And I get a front-row seat. Best damn view in the world.”
He drove us to our spot. High above the ocean where the waves crashed against jagged rocks.
No words. Just stars and open water.
We opened the back gate of his car again. Pulled out the blanket. Curled up like spoons. His breath in my hair. My head on his chest.
“Do you think this is real?” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head. “I think this is the realest thing I’ve ever had.”
And for the first time in forever, I let myself believe it.
Let myself hope.
Because I wasn’t the ghost girl anymore.
I wasn’t the cyberbullied scandal or the scholarship pity case.
I was Jade.
Varsity starter.
College prospect.
The girl with the hot boyfriend, the bright future, and maybe—just maybe—a second chance at everything.
The night sky stretched out above us, endless and velvet black, littered with stars like someone had spilled glitter across the heavens.
Leo’s truck was parked in our usual spot on the cliff, the back gate dropped down, blankets piled beneath us, the ocean far below whispering secrets to the rocks. The salty wind teased my hair, but I didn’t shiver.
Not with Leo beside me.
We lay on our backs, side by side, shoulders brushing. His fingers found mine, threading between them like it was second nature now.
And maybe it was.
"You're quiet," he murmured, turning to look at me, his face shadowed in starlight.
I smiled, cheeks warm. "Just… thinking."
"Good things or bad things?"
I rolled onto my side, propped on one elbow. “Good. Weirdly good. Like… is this really my life? I go from hiding behind hedges to starting varsity, straight As, emails from D1 schools, and—” My voice caught. “You.”
He propped up too, facing me now, eyes soft. “Me?”
“You’re… part of it. A big part.”
Something flickered in his gaze. “You know I’d burn this town down for you, right?”
The words landed deep in my chest. “I don’t want fire, Leo.”
He leaned in, brushing my cheek with his knuckles. “Then I’ll build you a home.”
That did it. My heart stuttered.
I didn’t think. I didn’t need to.
I leaned in and kissed him.
This kiss wasn’t the playful kind we’d shared behind buildings or in his car. It was slow. Deep. The kind that undoes you one heartbeat at a time.
When his arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer, I didn’t resist. I sank into him like I belonged there—because maybe I did.
His hoodie slipped from my shoulders. My fingers found the edge of his T-shirt. Neither of us rushed.
There was no pressure. No fear.
Just firelight eyes and the gentle tremble of his breath against mine.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.
I nodded, brushing his lips again. “Yes.”
Blankets shifted. His hands were warm and reverent. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word like poetry in a language only we spoke.
There was only us.
Time blurred. Skin met skin. Hearts collided.
And when it was over, we didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
He pulled me into his chest and I curled there, limbs tangled, the scent of salt and cedar and him wrapping around me like a promise.
His breath tickled my hair.
“I love you, Gitanilla.”
My chest ached at the sweetness of it.
I whispered it back.
And meant it with everything I had.