Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kaden
The Hail Mary Call
With a sigh, I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over her contact. Admitting I need help feels like a blow to my pride, but even the best players need a strong team behind them. The phone rings, and I hope to hell she answers.
I hate asking for anything, and the thought of practically begging her for help tastes like acid. But it’s better than sitting here stewing over my colossal fuck-up. The interview replays in my mind, every word cutting deeper. It wasn’t her fault that reporter decided to drag my parents into it. She didn’t deserve my outburst—or the threat to her career.
But it’s more than that. I miss her. Not just her sharp wit or the way she challenged me every damn day, but her—everything about her. Her laugh, her relentless drive, the way she somehow made even the worst days tolerable. And her lips. God, those lips. The way they felt against mine—soft, warm, and addictive—still haunts me.
I can’t stop replaying the memory of our kisses. The way she tasted, the little sounds she made when I deepened the kiss, the way her body pressed against mine like she couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t just physical—it was magnetic, consuming.
Not being able to see her, text her, or hear her voice daily has been torture. But not being able to feel those lips again? It’s driving me insane.
In the month we worked together, I got to know her—really know her—and somehow, she became a part of me. Her biting humor, her passion, the way she pushed me to be better, even when I didn’t want to be. I didn’t just want her around for work—I wanted her around for everything.
And now, after another month without her, it’s been unbearable. The silence between us feels heavier than anything I’ve carried before, and if I don’t fix this now, I’m afraid I’ll lose her for good.
To my surprise, she picks up just before voicemail kicks in.
“Yeah?” Her voice is clipped, a hard edge to it.
“Hey, Valentina, it’s Kaden.”
“I know. What do you want?” she replies, the weariness in her tone softening some of the sharpness.
I hesitate, trying to find the right words. “First, I wanted to say thanks for agreeing to talk. And, uh, thanks for not blocking me again.”
She exhales, and I swear I hear the faintest trace of a sigh. “You don’t need to butter me up, Crawford. Just get to the point. What do you want?”
“I also wanted to thank you for, uh, letting me send those baskets. I know it wasn’t exactly subtle, but I needed you to know I was sorry.”
“Well, Mom liked the wine, and the rocky road truffles weren’t bad,” she admits grudgingly. “But sending gifts to my entire family was overkill.”
“Noted,” I say quickly, latching onto her softened tone. “No more unsolicited deliveries. Just . . . can we go someplace and talk? I’d like to run some things by you.” The words feel like sandpaper in my throat, but I force them out.
“Nope,” she shoots back immediately. “The last thing I need is for someone to see me with you.”
“Fair,” I say, keeping my tone calm. “What if we meet at my place?”
“So you can be an asshole to me in private? No, thanks.”
“No, Val,” I plead, softening my voice. “I have an offer and a big apology. I swear yesterday was . . . Look, using my parents was crossing a line for me. I have hard limits, and they hit one of them. Please, just let me explain.”
There’s a pause, and I can practically hear her debating whether or not to hang up.
“Fine,” she finally says, her irritation clear in her voice. “You get ten minutes to present your case. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
The line goes dead before I can say anything else. She’s pissed, and she has every right to be.
I toss my phone onto the couch and run a hand through my hair. Missing her was hard enough before, but now that I have a shot to fix this, the thought of blowing it is unbearable. This is going to be an uphill fucking battle.