Chapter 64
SIXTY-FOUR
Ihelp Jaxon steady himself on his crutches.
“Stay by my side,” he says in that bossy tone I used to hate—but now it makes me hot.
As we head toward the press room, a breathy but unmistakable, “Jaxon?” floats after us. We both turn. Ashley is trotting toward him.
“Grab my shirt,” Jaxon murmurs to me. “Don’t let go.”
He turns away from her without hesitation, walking forward even as she flanks him, clinging like this is her last shot at claiming the man she thinks belongs to her.
I glance at her keeping pace, determined, unwilling to let go.
Inside the press room, cameras start flashing immediately—capturing the three of us like we’re in some warped love triangle finale.
A staff member reaches for my arm. “Please, have a seat…”
“She’s with me,” Jaxon says without breaking stride. Then, thumbing behind him, adds, “She’s not.”
We continue down the center aisle between two packed rows of reporters. At the front, Roger leaps to block us.
“Move,” Jaxon says, low and commanding.
“No.” Roger folds his arms, puffing up like he’s ready for a showdown.
It happens fast—Jaxon stiff-arms him, sending him tumbling over the front row. As Roger scrambles to regain his footing, Jaxon is already at the table, pulling out the lone chair behind the mic setup.
“We need another chair up here,” he tells someone nearby.
“No, this is not happening!” Roger barks.
But Coach Tibbey steps between them. “Sit down, Roger.”
The tension spikes. They lock eyes. But Roger obeys, slumping into a seat with visible resentment.
Camera clicks fill the room, capturing every moment. Jaxon slides his hand under the table and takes mine.
When I glance at him, seeking reassurance, he leans over and kisses me—a quick, decisive kiss—and every camera shifts focus.
He leans into the microphone.
“You all know Zara Morgan, right?” he says.
A few scattered voices respond: “Yes.”
“Well… Zara Morgan is the woman I chose. I’m her Prince Charming. Isn’t that what the show was all about?”
He flashes that smile I’ve tried to pretend I didn’t love. That dimple? It’s deadly. I once swore it annoyed me. But when we made love, I kissed his face so much my lips should’ve left a permanent imprint.
“And I figured something out while we were on the road,” Jaxon continues. “I was playing like—well, not great. And it’s because we hadn’t made this real. Official. Locked in.” He turns to me. I’m already smiling.
“I love you,” he says. “Probably have since day one.”
A loud voice bursts from the back of the room.
“He’s lying!” It’s Ashley.
Heads turn.
“They’re not a real couple!” she shouts. “I have proof!”
“Get her out of here,” Jaxon says into the mic.
“I have proof!” she screams again as security begins escorting her out.
She keeps ranting as they carry her off, babbling about how he should be with her, how I’m fake—until finally, her voice fades.
Now all eyes are back on us.
“I love him too,” I say into the mic. “For real.”
“And…” Jaxon adds, “Keep watching us. If we’re lying, you’ll know.”
A surge of questions erupts.
“One at a time!” he calls out.
A reporter rises above the noise. “Jaxon, what do you say about today’s performance? What happened out there?”
Jaxon nods thoughtfully. “I played terribly. Then I got hurt. But…” He jerks his thumb toward me and grins. “She’s my lucky charm, and she knows it.”
He leans back and drops it in his Terminator voice: “I’ll be back.”
The room erupts with laughter.