Chapter 27
Kennedy
I curled deeper into the couch, eyes locked on the TV like it held the answer to something—anything—other than the dread swirling in my stomach. The second the front door opened, my pulse stuttered.
Nick walked in without knocking, hoodie damp with sweat, jaw tight, eyes sharper than I’d ever seen them. He didn’t say a word, but the air shifted, heavy with everything we hadn’t said. I could smell the ice on him, the rink still clinging to his skin like frost.
He stood there for a beat too long.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice low. Controlled. But I heard the storm underneath it.
I blinked up at him, trying to keep my face neutral, like I hadn’t been waiting for this exact moment since the second he left. “Tell you what?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me.”
The way he looked at me—like he could see everything I was trying to hide—made it hard to breathe.
“I’m fine, Nick.” My voice sounded too light, too rehearsed.
He moved closer, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t trust himself not to explode. “You’re not okay.”
I looked back at the screen. The sitcom laugh track felt cruel. “It’s just noise. The press being the press.”
He crossed his arms, blocking my view completely. “This isn’t just noise. They’re coming after you.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant. I’d seen the headlines. The comments. The photos. The whispers.
“Gary’s name shouldn’t even be in our mouths anymore,” I said quietly.
“Then why is he in your nightmares?” Nick’s voice cracked, not with volume—but with something worse. Hurt.
I stood, heart pounding. “Because I didn’t want you to get dragged into this. You have enough to deal with. Your game against him is everything, and I wasn’t going to screw that up because I couldn’t get my shit together.”
“You think I care about the damn game more than I care about you?”
My breath caught. “No—I think you deserve something normal. Something safe. Not… this.”
He stepped closer, and I saw it in his eyes—rage, fear, something that looked a hell of a lot like love dressed up as frustration. “You are not something I survive, Kennedy. You’re the whole reason I fight.”
I looked away, throat burning. “You weren’t supposed to have to protect me.”
His voice dropped. “Too late for that. You’re mine.”
My heart cracked open, wide and exposed. “I hate that he still has this much power. That he can still make me feel this small.”
Nick didn’t hesitate. “Then let me take it back from him.”
“I just wanted…” My voice cracked. The words tangled in my throat, and I could feel the burn behind my eyes, the tears that refused to stay buried anymore.
Nick stepped forward, not charging this time—just moving like he couldn’t stand to be far. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t faded, but there was something gentler in the way he looked at me now. Like he was trying not to scare me away.
“You wanted what?” he asked, quieter now, but no less firm. “To protect me? From what? Because all you’re doing is pushing me out.”
I swallowed hard, chest rising with emotion I didn’t know how to name. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” he said, and God, he said it like he meant it. “I’m here for you, Kennedy. Whether you let me be or not.”
Those words—simple, unshakable—hit harder than anything else tonight. No threat. No ultimatum. Just… truth.
I broke.
The wall I’d built—the one I thought was holding us both up—crumbled with a single look from him. And suddenly I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry or fall into his arms or both.
“Then why does it feel like I’m drowning?” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Nick didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. “Because you’ve been swimming alone.”
The walls of the penthouse felt too tight.
Like they were pressing in on me, stealing the air from my lungs with every breath I tried to take.
Nick stood across from me, jaw tight, eyes burning with unspoken fury—and underneath it all, something rawer.
Something that made my skin tingle with awareness.
I took a step back, instinctively trying to create space between us, but he followed. Of course he did.
“You’re bulldozing your way into something you don’t understand!” The words ripped out of me before I could stop them, sharp and wild with panic.
His eyes narrowed, hurt flashing quick and brutal. “And you’re treating me like a temporary fling,” he snapped. “Like this whole thing doesn’t mean a damn thing to you.”
“That’s not fair.” My voice rose with it—the emotion, the exhaustion, the fear. “It’s not just a game. I just… I wanted you to have something normal. Something safe.”
His laugh was low, humorless. “I don’t want safe,” he said, stepping closer. “I want you. Even when you’re a goddamn hurricane.”
I froze, those words crashing into me like a wave. I could feel the tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to fall apart in front of him. Again.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, voice cracking as I tried to turn away—because that was the only thing that had ever kept me safe: distance.
But before I could take a single step, his hand wrapped around my wrist—not harsh, but sure. Possessive. Like he knew I’d run and was already two steps ahead.
“You can’t walk away from this,” he growled. “Not from me.”
My breath caught, and I looked up at him—really looked. Not the superstar forward or the viral boyfriend. Just Nick. The man who knew every fracture inside me and still wanted to stay.
“I hate that Gary still has this hold over me,” I choked out. “That he gets to be a shadow in every room I walk into. That he’s still part of us.”
Nick’s jaw flexed, but his voice was steady. Fierce. “And I have every intention of changing it.”
The words landed like a promise. One I didn’t know if I was brave enough to believe in.
“How?” My voice was barely audible, trembling with fear and hope.
His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist—soft, reverent, the contrast making my heart ache.
“By standing beside you. By showing up every time you try to push me away. You think running makes you strong?” His voice dropped lower.
“You think giving him more space in your head keeps me safe? I’m already in this, Kennedy.
I’m already yours. Whether you want to admit it or not. ”
The anger surged again—sharp and hot—curling in my chest like a flame I couldn’t control.
Anger at Gary for always finding a way to crawl back into my life, even when he wasn’t supposed to be part of it anymore.
Anger at myself for letting him get this far, for letting his presence color everything I felt for Nick. Everything I wanted with Nick.
“I didn’t ask for any of this!” The words cracked out of me, trembling with everything I hadn’t said—everything I was still too scared to feel.
Nick didn’t flinch. He just stood there, grounded and solid, like the eye in the middle of the chaos swirling inside me.
“No one ever does.” His voice was low but calm, and he slowly let go of my wrist—like he was giving me space without letting go completely. His gaze held mine with such unwavering focus it was hard to breathe. “But it’s ours now—yours and mine.”
That hit somewhere deep. Somewhere I’d locked down long before Nick ever stepped into my world.
The way he looked at me… it wasn’t pity. It wasn’t obligation. It was fierce. Steady. Like he was planting his flag right there in the middle of my wreckage, refusing to let the storm push him out.
“You’re right about one thing,” he said, quieter now but still with that razor-sharp conviction. “It’s messy. It’s ugly. And yeah—sometimes it’s terrifying.” He stepped closer again, and this time, I didn’t move away. “But we’ll face it together.”
It wasn’t a plea. It was a promise.
I stared at him—really stared—and felt the weight in my chest shift. Lighten. The fear didn’t vanish, but it wasn’t so all-consuming anymore. Because he saw the worst of me and still stood his ground. He didn’t flinch at the jagged edges. He reached for them.
I exhaled shakily, chest rising and falling like I’d just surfaced from drowning. Then I nodded—just once. “Okay,” I whispered.
It was all I had.
But it was enough.
In that second, the world outside the walls faded. The headlines. The whispers. Gary. All of it blurred out. And what was left… was us.
Just us, standing in the middle of a war neither of us started but both of us were damn sure ready to fight.
He kissed me—hard. Not asking. Just taking. And for the first time, I didn’t fight it. I melted into him, grabbed fistfuls of his hoodie, and let everything I’d been holding in pour out through the way my mouth crashed against his. It was raw, angry, and hungry.
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, my feet leaving the ground as the world blurred around us. All that mattered was the fire crackling between us. He carried me to the bedroom like it was a mission—like he’d already decided exactly where this was going.
Clothes came off in rushed, desperate motions. Fingers fumbled. Breathing turned ragged. My heart pounded as skin met skin, every touch sending shockwaves through me. I tried to speak—“Nick, wait—” but he pressed his hand over my mouth, his breath hot against my cheek.
“No more running,” he whispered, voice fierce and low. “No more lying. You’re mine.”
The words struck something deep inside me—a declaration, a demand, a promise. My pulse roared in my ears. There was no backing down now.
“Say it,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine, full of fire and something far more dangerous than lust.
“I’m yours,” I breathed, the truth trembling on my tongue and igniting in my chest the second it left my lips.
He kissed me again—rougher this time. Wilder. Like something inside him had finally snapped free. Like he was done pretending he didn’t already own every piece of me.