Chapter 63
SIXTY-THREE
JAXON WILDE
Everything shifts the second I see her.
The pain in my leg, the fractured fibula, the weeks of recovery ahead—they all fade, if only a little. She's here. And that’s what matters.
“No.” Roger’s hand presses against my chest to stop me from moving. “We’re going back up.”
I push past him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
While I lay in the hospital bed earlier, waiting for confirmation on the injury, I had time to think.
To retrace how I went from the peace of being with Zara before we left for Florida to feeling like I was unraveling on the field.
Everything had changed too quickly. Too quietly. And now I know why.
Ashley showing up at both games. Sitting in prime seats—the kind that cost tens of thousands… or are arranged by someone with power. That didn’t happen by accident.
Then Roger walked into my room, pretending to be surprised that Ashley was around.
He showed me the tabloid photos of Zara and Toby.
Said maybe I should lean into the story, let people think I was moving on too.
He had comments printed out—actual fan commentary, like their opinions were enough to steer my life.
According to him, Zara and I were a sinking ship, and Ashley was the obvious next chapter.
That’s when I knew for certain that it was all planned. All of it orchestrated by him.
I kept my jaw clenched, trying to keep my temper in check. “I want my phone,” I told him.
He didn’t deny anything. Just reached into his pocket and handed it to me like we were swapping business cards. The battery was drained—completely dead.
He knew what he was doing.
“Here’s the deal,” he said calmly. “Ashley’s here, and so is the media. You’re going to do a press conference. Tell them it’s over with Zara. Say you and Ashley are figuring things out. That’s all. Then we’re done with her, and with that agent of hers.”
I stared daggers at him. That was the real issue. Anne Park. He couldn’t stand the fact that someone outsmarted him. That she had won.
I told him I didn’t want to see Ashley until we got back to San Diego.
He didn’t respond, but I could see it in his face—he was already planning his next move.
I had plans too. A press conference wasn’t going to go how he thought it would.
But none of that compares to what just happened.
“Hi,” Zara says. Her voice is quiet, uncertain. She lifts her hand slightly, like she’s not sure if she should even be here.
I make my way toward her, trying not to move too fast on the crutches. Every step hurts, but I don’t care. She’s here.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “About everything.”
She frowns, surprised.
“I know Anne didn’t pass along your message. And I don’t know if you saw the photos of me and Toby, but none of that was real. I’ll explain later.”
I release a sigh of relief that I didn’t know I was holding.
Roger’s voice cuts through behind us. “Let’s go.”
He’s already heading down the hall with the press following him. They’re snapping photos of us now, like this is part of the story too.
I glance at him briefly, then turn back to Zara. I don’t want to waste another second.
“It feels like it’s been forever,” I say.
She nods, her eyes soft. “I feel the same way. It’s been... hard.” Her voice wavers, just enough to crack.
Her skin looks impossibly soft. Every nerve in my body remembers her—how she felt wrapped around me, bare skin to bare skin, the heat of her, the way she pulled me deeper and deeper inside her.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my voice low, the words catching in my throat as I swallow—bracing for whatever comes next.
She doesn’t answer—she just leans in.
Our lips meet, and something in me settles. Her hands on my face, my hands at her waist. The crutches fall to the floor, and I don’t even care. The pain in my leg pulses, but it barely registers.
All I feel is her.
Her mouth. Her breath. The warmth of her body leaning into mine. The moment we lost, the weeks of silence, all of it disappears.
She’s here now.
And so am I.