Chapter 28
Jefferson
I’ve been in big arenas, staring down an opponent twice my size, sweating so hard it stung my eyes, but walking up the marble steps to Ingrid Flockton’s mansion in Miami is a whole different kind of pressure.
The Flock Foundation Ball. The place is glowing like it’s alive with floodlights cutting across the manicured lawns, cameras flashing from behind the velvet ropes, valets in white gloves opening doors for athletes, actors, models, the kind of people I used to see on TV.
I can feel the eyes on me before I even tell the woman at the door my name.
“Good evening,” she says, drinking me in. At least I look the part.
“Jefferson Parks, Surge Hockey,” My name is on the list, I want to add, but hold back, just giving her a small grin. I still can’t believe Lila pulled it off, greasing wheels and sliding my name onto the guest list like it belonged there.
Clean suit. Pressed shirt. Tie I redid three times before I got in the Uber.
I’m not unfamiliar with dressing up. I’ve escorted women to all kinds of team and sorority events.
I’m a good-looking guy, that’s a fact, and maybe I should feel out of place, but I don’t.
This is where a career in hockey will take me, and I’m ready for it.
I’m okay with the spotlight. The only problem is that, for this specific event, I’m not sure I’m welcome.
I’m waved through with a quick grin, and inside the air-conditioning hits me with a rush of chilled air, carrying perfume, champagne, and money.
Everything is polished to perfection–the chandeliers, the white and gold floral arrangements, the endless champagne flutes balanced on silver trays.
My heart hammers against my ribs, because I know she’s here.
And then I see her.
Ingrid Flockton, center of the universe.
The metallic gown clings to her like it was poured over her body, molten steel that shifts under the lights with every move she makes.
Her hair is pulled back sleek, exposing the line of her neck.
It’s dyed a shade darker than the last time I saw her.
More violet than lavender. Just seeing her is electric.
Like sticking a fork in a socket. Every nerve in me sparks alive, screaming that this–her–is what I’ve been starving for. She’s who had me spun out.
And now that I’m here, there’s no doubt in my mind: This is it. This is the chance. My boom box moment.
“Good evening, Mr. Parks.”
Fuck.
Marv appears from nowhere, solid as a wall, doing his best to be an obstacle between me and Ingrid.
“Hey, Marv. Long time.”
Ingrid’s security guard is good. Way too good.
“You know you can’t be here.” His tone isn’t angry, just flat, like I’m already one wrong move away from being tossed out on my ass.
I wince. “I have a ticket. I swear. Ask the lady at the front.”
“Just because you have a ticket doesn’t mean you’re welcome.”
True. Dead true. My mouth goes dry. “Look, man, I just–I want to talk to her. Just for a minute. I’m not here to cause problems.”
“No can do.” Marv clamps a hand around my elbow. Not rough, but firm enough that the message is clear: walk, or I’ll make you. My pulse kicks up.
“Marv, wait.”
We both turn at the voice and my savior isn’t who I expect. Madison sweeps up in a floor length beaded blue gown, hair piled on her head like a beauty queen. Her eyes narrowing the moment they land on me.
“I have no idea how you pulled this off,” she mutters under her breath.
“I swear. I’m not here to—”
“Save it.” She cuts me off, crossing her arms. For a second, I brace for her to tell Marv to haul me out by the collar. Instead, she sighs, heavy and frustrated. “Let him go.”
Marv raises a brow. “You sure?”
“I’ll take responsibility.”
I stare at her, blindsided. “You will?”
Marv’s expression asks the same question, but he releases me and says, “Okay. Call me if there’s trouble.”
He takes a step back, but I feel his eyes still on me. I turn to Madison. “Why are you doing this?”
Her jaw tightens. “Because I already fucked up once, and my friendship with Ingrid means more to me than anything else. If I can give her the chance to get closure, I’m going to take it.” Her eyes bore into mine. “Just don’t hurt her. She can’t go through any more heartbreak.”
I nod. “I don’t plan on it.”
She studies me one last time before jerking her head toward the French doors. “Out there. Patio. Five minutes. That’s all you get.”
The doors open, and cool night air rushes over me, salt curling in with the sound of the ocean. The waves crash steady against the beach, a rhythm that seems to sync with my pulse. I pace once, twice, trying to catch my breath, when the door clicks again.
And Ingrid steps out.
I let my gaze sweep over her curves, I can’t stop it. The dress, the armor. “Prepared for battle, Angel?”
Her lips curve, but it’s not really a smile. “It appears so.”
“Well, you look beautiful.” My fingers twitch with the urge to brush the hair off her shoulder.
“How did you get in here?” she asks, looking over my shoulder. I have no doubt Marv is nearby.
“Legally,” I confirm. “Turns out there are perks to being a professional hockey player other than fame and glory.”
She exhales, eyes flicking back toward the ballroom like she’s already planning her exit. I can feel her pulling away, and panic flares hot in my chest.
“Ingrid, wait. I need to explain.”
Her arms cross, defensive, diamonds flashing at her ears. “How do you explain that list as anything other than proof that I was just another name to screw your way through?”
Fuck. This isn’t going how I wanted, but I’m not ready to give up.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded piece of notebook paper.
The thing is battered, edges worn soft. I hold it up like evidence.
“This. Yeah, it’s real. It’s stupid and shallow and exactly what you think it is.
Freshman-year me thought it was clever to write down every girl I thought was hot, every girl I wanted to hook up with before graduation.
Models, sorority girls, puck bunnies. You name it. ”
“Classy,” she mutters, eyes sharp.
“I know.” My voice cracks. “But what you don’t know is this–your name? It’s at the top. And it’s the only one not crossed out.”
Her brows pull together, suspicion warring with confusion. “If you’re trying to impress me with something, I’m missing the point.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “The day I met you, you stopped being a name. You became real. Too real. And I couldn’t reduce you to a checkbox. Couldn’t risk losing what I felt for the sake of bragging rights.”
The silence that follows is heavier than the waves crashing against the shore. She looks at me, searching, like she wants to find a crack in the story.
“I left it on my desk that day, shoved between the pages of a history assignment,” I say, holding the page out. “And I never looked at it again. Because the list didn’t matter anymore. You did.”
Her throat works as she swallows, gaze darting from the paper to my face. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to believe me.” The words come out harsher than I want, but fuck it.
I’m going all in, because that’s what I want from her–all of it.
I step forward and take her face in my hands.
“I expect you to believe what you’ve seen when I look at you.
When I’m with you. When I’m in you.” Her eyes widen.
“I’m not perfect, Angel, but I swear to God, you were never just a name on a piece of paper. ”
Her lips press together, trembling at the edges. For the first time tonight, she doesn’t look like steel. She looks like Ingrid–the woman who took a chance on me for no real goddamn reason other than curiosity.
And I realize I’m waiting for her to decide if she’s going to walk away or let me back in.
“I want to believe you,” she whispers finally, her voice raw.
“But you don’t know what it’s like to always wonder if you’re just another conquest. Another headline for Madison to spin.
” Her throat works as she swallows. “I’ve spent years being told my value is in what I can do for others, not in being loved.
And then you–” she breaks off, shaking her head. “You were supposed to be different.”
I step closer, slow, like approaching a wild animal I don’t want to spook. “I am different.”
Her eyes flash, pained. “But then I found out about that list. And Madison…” Her jaw trembles, but she clenches it shut before tears can fall.
“Madison knew. She let me think, she let me fall for you, while keeping that in her back pocket, waiting for the moment it would hurt the most. And it worked. Because it hit the one fear I can’t shake. ”
“Which is?” I press gently.
Her gaze lifts to mine, shimmering but fierce. “That no matter how strong I pretend to be, I’ll always just be someone’s prize. Someone’s win on the way to building themselves into something more.”
The words gut me. I want to crush the list in my fist, burn it, bury it, anything to erase the proof of who I was before her. But instead I hold her gaze steady.
“I’ve got trophies, Angel. They’re shiny and the victory feels amazing, but it’s fleeting.
Once it’s over, there’s another game, another match, another championship on the horizon.
You’re not a conquest or a prize. You’re the person that I want to come home to every single day.
You’re the woman that makes life less about me and more about what I can be for you. ”
Her breath catches, shoulders rigid, and for a moment I think she’s going to bolt back inside. But she doesn’t. She just stands there, letting me see the cracks in her armor.
It’s time I showed her the cracks in mine.