Chapter One #2
“I’m fine,” she lies. I can tell by the way her voice cracked in the middle of fine, betraying her completely.
“I just…I have that appointment with the OB-GYN at four o’clock.
They’re doing the blood panel, and I think an initial confirmation scan.
Yeah…no, he’s not coming. I told you he’s done.
He made it very clear, and honestly, Bry, I don’t want to talk about Dylan right now.
I just need to get through this appointment. ”
My heart flips in my chest.
Is she pregnant?
Dylan.
My mind spins as I connect the pieces. Dylan Boone.
The douchebag starting defenseman for the New Jersey Reds hockey team.
The guy who also has a contract with Overtime Sports.
I’ve seen them out together, sure, and I know they’re dating, but I never got the impression that it was this serious. Baby serious.
And based on what she just said…the bastard bailed on her. He’s leaving her to carry the weight of this life-changing reality, while he’s probably already in bed with someone new.
Ellis lets out a shaky exhale that sounds like a sob trying to escape. “I really need to go, Bry. Traffic is going to be rough this time of day. I’ll call you as soon as I leave the doctor’s office.”
She ends the call, lowering the phone from her ear with a visibly trembling hand.
Ellis leans her head against the wall behind her, closing her eyes tightly.
Then a single tear slips from under her dark lashes, tracing a slow path down her cheek.
Seeing Ellis Renwick—one of the strongest, smartest, most untouchable women in every room—stand alone in an industrial studio hallway, silently breaking down … hits me straight in the chest like a blindside tackle.
I don’t think about professional boundaries. I don’t think about my brand, my reputation, or the fact that we’re casual friends and business associates. I don’t think about the complications of the words I’m about to say.
I’m thinking about my mom, sitting at a kitchen table, crying over broken promises while my sister and I were in the next room, carrying every single burden in the universe alone because the man who was supposed to stand by her had walked away when life got real and hard.
I promised myself a long time ago that I would be a better man than my father, that I wouldn’t turn my back to keep things easy for myself.
My legs move before my brain can second-guess my decision. The rubber on my sneakers thuds loudly against the floor as I walk toward her.
Ellis hears me approach. Her eyes snap open, and in a fraction of a second, her armor tries to slam back into place. She hurries to swipe the tear off her cheek with the back of her hand, and stands tall as I approach the alcove.
“Brody,” she says, her voice dropping into a calm, polished tone, though her eyes are slightly bloodshot. “I…didn’t realize you were still here. The shoot was amazing. The director mentioned—”
“Ellis,” I cut in, stopping two feet in front of her.
At my height, I tower over her, but I deliberately keep my shoulders loose and let my hands fall to my sides. I keep my tone lowered, stripped of my usual teasing charm.
She blinks at me, caught off guard. “Yes?”
“I heard you,” I say plainly. I don’t see any reason to play dumb. “I was walking toward the exit and heard what you said on the phone, and put two and two together.”
A flare of defensiveness crosses her face, and her posture goes rigid. “Brody, my personal life is really none of your business, and if you think just because we have mutual friends that you can pry into my—”
“Your appointment is at four o’clock?” I ask quietly, looking her in the eye and keeping my voice steady.
Ellis freezes.
I can tell there’s a sharp, angry response ready to rumble out.
She stares at me, her chest rising and falling under her shirt, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.
And for three long seconds, the strong executive I usually see vanishes, leaving an exhausted and overwhelmed woman standing in front of me.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough for me to hear over the hum of the warm air flowing in the vents in the ceiling.
I drop my duffel bag onto the floor between us. I don’t ask about Dylan Boone. I don’t ask why she’s going to her appointment alone, or what kind of narcissistic asshole walks away from a woman like her. I don’t need the details to know what matters right now.
But I also know I’m not letting her walk out of this building alone.
I take one step closer, closing the distance between us, and reach down. Slowly, giving her the chance to pull away, I take her cold, trembling hand in my big, warm one.
Ellis looks down at our hands, then back up at me. Her eyes widen with surprise.
“I’m taking you,” I say softly. It’s not a question. It’s not a polite or casual offer she can decline to preserve her pride. It’s a firm declaration.
“Brody…no,” she says, her voice unsteady as she tries to pull her hand away weakly.
“You really don’t need to do that. You don’t need to get involved in my personal mess.
And I really don’t want any of my friends finding out right now.
Not until I have a plan for how I want to handle this publicly. ”
“My truck is parked in the loading bay,” I continue, ignoring her protest, tightening my fingers around hers. “It’s three-fifteen now. Traffic will be a mess, and I’m not letting you drive across town when you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I have a driv—”
“I’m taking you, Ellis,” I repeat, keeping my tone soft, but backing it with absolute refusal to fold. “I’ll sit in the car, or the waiting room. I won’t ask questions, and I won’t tell a single soul; then I’ll take you home whenever you’re done. But you’re not going to this appointment alone.”
Ellis stares up at me, searching my face for any sign of a joke or other motive, I’m sure. But all she’ll find is sincerity.
Her lip trembles. The fierce, independent resistance in her shoulders finally gives way, as she lets out a shuddering breath, her fingers relaxing in my grip.
“Okay,” she whispers, leaning her head back against the wall for a second, as unexpected relief crosses her face. “Okay.”
I give her hand a squeeze, letting her know I’ve got her, before picking up my duffel bag with my free hand.
“Come on, princess,” I say, guiding her down the hallway toward the other exit.
“Princess? I’m not a princess.”
I look down at her and smirk. “Let’s go take care of you.”