Chapter Twenty-eight
Aksel
“With the show coming to an end and only one elimination to go until the finale, how has your experience with the show been. Or even better, how has your life and marriage been affected by this competition?
Aksel looks as if he hasn’t slept in days.
Dark circles bruise the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes, the whites threaded with red.
A deep purple mark stains the right side of his cheekbone just above his square jaw, stark against his lightly tanned skin.
His normally clean-shaven face is scruffy with unshaved facial hair.
His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders rigid, as if holding himself together takes conscious effort. For once, there’s no easy grin. No charm. No carefully curated confidence.
“I think,” he says, voice low and worn raw, “You can guess how the competition has affected everything in my life.”
“Yes,” Cammie murmurs, her voice gentle with practiced concern. “We all saw exactly what Hale and Eric thought of that little stunt, didn’t we?” She pauses, then presses, “Have you spoken to Hale since then?”
Aksel’s jaw tightens. He swallows once before answering, not with words, but with a single, clipped shake of his head. The movement is stiff, like even that small admission cost him dearly.
Cammie softens her tone further, sensing blood in the water. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Hale? An apology, maybe?”
Aksel exhales through his nose. His eyes flick briefly toward the floor, then back up. His gaze is clear now, resolute with his resolve to fix things.
“I wouldn’t do Hale the disservice of talking to you before him,” he says firmly.