Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
MIRANDA
As much as I try to follow Miles’s advice—to relax, to breathe, to distract myself—it’s impossible.
I’ve done nothing but think, and pace…and think some more.
I’ve worn a path into the living room rug, back and forth, so many times that my feet actually hurt.
My mind refuses to slow down. Every horrific scenario loops on repeat, my pulse tripping over itself every time my imagination gets too loud.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and my head whips toward the sound. My stomach drops. I force myself to stand, walk over, and pull it open.
Anna stands there, holding a grocery bag.
“Hey,” she says gently.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” I stammer, praying Miles didn’t call her.
She steps inside without answering, sets the bag on the foyer table, and wraps her arms around me in a hug. The second her chin touches my shoulder, I know.
Miles definitely called her.
A part of me wants to push her away, to beg her to stop taking care of me like I’m still that broken girl she once rescued. But I don’t. I hold her tight and let the quiet settle between us.
Just love. Which somehow makes my chest ache even more.
When she finally pulls back, she gives me a sad, soft smile. “Miles called me.”
I nod. “Of course he did.”
She squeezes my hand, grabs the grocery bag with her other hand, and says, “Come on. We have ice cream to eat.”
In the kitchen, she scoops the ice cream she brought into two bowls. We sit across from each other at the table like we’ve done a thousand times.
“So,” I ask, bracing myself, “what do you know?”
“Pretty much everything, I think. Miles filled me in.”
My throat tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I really didn’t want to burden you with this.”
She shakes her head instantly. “Miranda, if I had a problem—or if I was sad or scared or needed help—and I didn’t tell you… how would you feel?”
“Horrible,” I admit.
“Exactly.” She reaches across the table, taking my hand. “I want to help you. I want to be here for you. Because I love you.”
A humorless laugh escapes me. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”
“Well, first of all,” Anna says pointedly, “Miles wanted me to tell you not to worry, and that he’s handling everything.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s what he says. He seems pretty confident, but I just don’t see how.”
She shrugs lightly. “Even if he doesn’t fix it… so what? We don’t need to give our energy to entertainment gossip.”
“They’re going to talk about you,” I whisper. “About you being my friend.”
“Let them,” she says simply. “I stopped listening to the tabloids a long time ago. They can say whatever they want. It doesn’t affect me. And it doesn’t have to affect you. We can’t control other people, Miranda. We can only control our own lives. And we’re happy in this life, right?”
“Until yesterday… yeah.”
She gives me a sad, knowing smile. “You’ll be happy again. This will blow over.”
Then she mutters under her breath, “I’ve always hated that Tracey bitch.”
A genuine laugh escapes me. “Yeah. Me too.”
We slip into normal conversation—movies, work, anything that isn’t drama. And for a while, it feels almost normal.
Eventually, Anna glances at the clock and sighs. “I have that interview with Entertainment Tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“I can cancel,” she offers.
“No. Don’t cancel it.”
She nods. “All right. I’ll call you tonight. But please—don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
She hugs me tight, kisses my cheek, and then she’s gone.
Leaving me in the quiet, alone with my thoughts.
I go back to pacing. Anna was a great distraction, and I’m glad she came over. Now, I wait.
When the front door finally opens, my heart jolts. Miles steps inside, and for a single, fragile second, I feel relief—real, visceral relief—just because he’s here. But then my brain snaps me back to reality. Good intentions or not, there is no universe where this can be fixed.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey.” My response comes out small, quiet, because that’s all I have left.
Then he does something that completely disarms me.
He smiles. A real one. Warm and steady and heartbreakingly genuine—like he knows something I don’t.
“Let’s chat,” he says gently.
Before I can overthink, he takes my hand and guides me to the couch.
“Everything is taken care of,” he says.
I blink at him, brows pulling tight. “What do you mean, everything is taken care of?”
“Well,” he says, settling back into the cushions, “I talked with Penny this morning. You know Penny—she’s basically a magician when it comes to scrubbing the internet.
She did a lot of work. Pulled strings. Contacted lawyers.
And while it’s not all gone yet, it will be soon.
And Tracey won’t be starting any more problems.”
My head shakes automatically. “I don’t understand.”
He squeezes my hand. “Penny filed a petition to sue Tracy for gross misconduct and falsifying information—basically for leaking everything to those influencers.”
I stare at him. “But it’s not a lie.”
“Yeah,” he says gently, “but here’s the thing. We don’t actually need to win the lawsuit. We just need the threat of it. Because we have the backing and the money to make it so long and so grueling that we’d bankrupt Tracey before she ever saw a courtroom. And she knows it.”
I inhale sharply.
“She’s already agreed to put out a statement,” he continues. “And she’s contacting everyone she sent the story to, asking them to retract it.”
My mouth falls open. “She agreed to that?”
Miles nods. “She didn’t really have a choice.”
I sit there, stunned, barely able to process as he keeps going.
“Penny didn’t stop there. She submitted cease-and-desist letters to every influencer, gossip page, and news station even considering picking up the story.
We can’t legally stop people from talking, but usually the threat of lawyers and financial ruin makes them realize that an old scandal isn’t worth the clicks. ”
He brushes my knuckles with his thumb. “Plus, Penny’s got long-standing relationships with most of the big media outlets. She’s helped them out a ton over the years. As a favor to her, they’ve already removed most of the videos—took them down for ‘violating community guidelines’.” He air quotes.
I swallow hard, emotion pressing into my throat.
“It’s not perfect,” he admits. “Maybe it won’t erase everything forever, but it’ll make it so unbelievably unpleasant for anyone who wants to run with this story that they’ll back off.”
“How?” I whisper.
“Simple,” he says. “If any of those stations want firsthand access to our team or our players, they won’t touch this.
Penny made it clear… run this old, irrelevant story, and the organization will cut them off completely.
No interviews. No exclusives. Nothing. At the end of the day,” Miles says softly, “everyone’s out for themselves.
A twelve-year-old story that went nowhere?
It’s not worth risking their credibility or their relationship with the organization.
Besides the couple of bucks they’d make off clicks, they gain nothing from it. ”
I stare at him—really stare at him—trying to grasp the reality that he’s sitting here telling me the nightmare I’ve been living with for half my life might actually be fading. He did this all for me.
“I’m still in shock,” I whisper. “I’ve been hiding from this for twelve years, and you and Penny have it figured out in a day?”
He lifts a shoulder modestly. “Well, it was mainly Penny, to be fair. We should probably bake her some cookies or something to thank her.”
I raise a brow. “Or buy her some cookies.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Fair point.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed. “Sorry. I know I should be really happy, but… it just doesn’t seem real.”
He squeezes my hand. “Trust me—it’s real.”
My throat tightens. The question rises before I can stop it, raw and terrified. “And what about us?”
His expression shifts immediately, concern softening his features. “What about us?”
“Are we still…?”
“Together?” he finishes gently. “Of course, we’re still together. Why wouldn’t we be?”
I swallow hard. “Well, doesn’t the recent information… change how you see me?”
“Not in the negative,” he says firmly. “If anything, I love you more for everything you’ve survived and everything you’ve overcome. You are an incredibly strong person, Miranda, and I’m proud—so damn proud—to be dating you.”
Tears sting my eyes. “But you always call me Sunshine… like I’m light and happy and bubbly. And the truth is… part of that is a mask. A way to hide everything I never wanted you to find out. Everything I never wanted the world to find out. Am I even the person you thought you loved?”
“Of course you are.”
His voice is steady, unwavering, full of truth.
“You’re still all those things,” he continues. “But now? Now you get to be your whole self. Sunshine isn’t what you are on the outside. You’re my Sunshine because you’re my light. You make my world brighter. You make me see things clearly. You bring a spotlight to the love I feel for you.”
He lifts my chin until my gaze meets his.
“I love all the parts of you,” he says softly. “The happy ones and the dark ones. The past doesn’t change how I feel about you. Nothing could. Someday, I hope you believe that. I hope you trust it with your whole heart.”
I look at him—this man who has held me through storms I never let anyone else see—and I can’t believe how lucky I am.
“I will,” I whisper. “I promise I’ll get there. I’ll learn to trust what we have.”
He threads his fingers through mine, squeezing gently. “Take your time, Sunshine. I’m not going anywhere.”