10. The Moment Everything Changed
Chapter ten
The Moment Everything Changed
T here is seventy-three paces between the edge of the coffee table and the front door, and I’m familiar with every single one of them. I’ve worn them in with my own restless footprints. It’s still not enough to get Jaxon out of my head.
I’ve tried wine. I’ve tried working.
The glass is sitting on the counter, half-empty, and the papers are scattered like dead leaves around the living room. I try taking my shoes off, but that doesn’t help either. Nothing does. Not while my phone’s sitting there dark, nothing but a black, blank screen and my own hopes reflects off it. I look at it again, expecting nothing, and—there’s the doorbell instead. My stomach knots up. I pause, barefoot and breathless, but somehow still manage to cross the room. The sight of him through the peephole makes my heart stop. It’s Jaxon. He looks nervous. Not a trace of his usual smile. I hesitate with my hand on the knob.
How long has it been since I’ve worked a case this hard? PR is a strange animal, and a big account usually means round-the-clock scrambling to control someone’s image. But it’s Jaxon who has me tripping over my own feet, not the case. This is different. It’s been a day since our last encounter, and now I’m a wreck. The old, dispassionate Tori would have stuck to a schedule. She would have worked out exactly when and how he’d get in touch. She’d have known exactly what he’d say, what she’d say back. The old Tori wouldn’t be glancing at her phone every other second, desperate, full of dread and nerves, watching the minutes drag on without a single message.
He’s in my head, in every shadow of this room. The quiet here is a constant reminder of how loud my thoughts are. There’s the muffled thud of my shoes where I’ve left them kicked off by the door. There’s the rustle of paper every time I brush past the table. And the phone. Sitting silently like it’s judging me. Not ringing, not lighting up. The old Tori would have done something about it, some sort of controlled, decisive thing. This version? She’s just pacing in her bare feet, trying not to trip on her own jumbled mess of an apartment, a mess she doesn’t even remember making.
I’m a woman who likes order, damn it. Control. I’m not the one who waits around for someone else to make the first move. My pulse races, and I know I’ve got to pull myself together. Be the person who sees this as part of the job and nothing more. So why does my heart keep skipping like it’s trying to wear itself out? Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. One thing’s for sure: I can’t focus on anything but Jaxon. Not a chance in hell.
Maybe I should talk to someone. God knows the gossip rags are dying for this kind of juice. They’d love the idea of the woman who handles athletes losing her cool over the biggest star of them all. Who wouldn’t? Jaxon Reid, notorious playboy quarterback, shakes up smart PR specialist. It’s got a nice ring to it, if you’re into that sort of thing. It’s definitely selling. Me? I can’t decide. And that’s the problem.
The doorbell’s ringing cuts through everything, clear and sudden like a shot in the dark. I jump, physically jump, and my first thought is this: I can’t believe it’s really him. My second thought is worse. It is him. And it scares the hell out of me.
Maybe if I don’t move, it’ll just be another unsolved mystery in a long list of things I haven’t quite figured out. Or maybe it’ll just stop, and I’ll be back to worrying my way through the night alone. But I’m curious. More than that, I’m desperate. So I cross the room, pulse thudding, steps light and fast and feeling entirely unsure. I get to the door and press my eye to the peephole.
He’s right there. Jaxon. No trace of his charming smirk, no swagger in his step. Just him, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders tense like he’s unsure if I’ll let him in.
He’s the last thing I expect to see.
The world narrows down to the single point of him standing at my door. This is all happening way too fast. This is all happening way too slowly. My feet are rooted to the spot, but my brain’s already opened the door a hundred times, played out every possible scenario. I can see all of it—the way he’ll smile that confident smile of his, the way I’ll cross my arms and tell him this doesn’t change a thing, the way he’ll make me eat my words with another kiss that wrecks my world all over again.
The hesitation on his face, the tension in his body. Is he worried? I’ve never seen that look on him, not in a hundred press conferences or events. I don’t even know if I trust my eyes. But I can’t look away.
And still, I’m holding onto that doorknob like it’s a life preserver.
His weight shifts. He’s not going anywhere. He’s not the type to back down, even if it kills him. But he doesn’t look impatient. He doesn’t look confident.
The door is a hundred times heavier than I expect, or maybe it’s just my hand that’s unsteady. I open it anyway, the rush of my own pulse loud in my ears.
“Hey,” he says. His voice is quiet. Almost timid.
I nod and step back, let him in without saying a word.
He walks past me. Slow, careful. There’s no fire in my apartment, but the air is just as thick and hot, like we’re both afraid it’ll catch any second. He stands near the window. I lean against the wall. Neither of us looks the other way.
“So,” I start. “About last night—”
“Yeah,” he says, cutting me off.
We both go quiet again, our sentences unfinished. They join the rest of the unsaid things between us, adding more weight to the space neither of us can cross.
Jaxon’s never been shy so this version of him is foreign to me. There’s a flicker of something almost sweet in the way he watches me like I might be more than he bargained for. But I’m just as unsure. I’m just as cautious.
A minute goes by. Another. They add up until I lose count. His mouth opens and closes. So does mine. I give up on finding words and hug the wall instead, making myself small like that might make this any easier.
We’ve never been this quiet before.
Finally, he looks down and his hair falls over his eyes.
“So,” I try again. The word stutters out, stops and starts like a busted engine.
“Yeah.” He jumps on it. “I know.”
I drag a breath into my lungs and gather every last ounce of courage. My heart won’t settle down. It’s as chaotic as I am.
It was just a moment of passion, but it’s managed to do this to us. To him. To me.
We are a mess.
He takes a step forward, like he’s finally decided to make his move. But he stops short. He takes it back.
“This is crazy,” I finally say.
He doesn’t deny it. “I know,” he says again.
“Then do something!”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know… something!”
“Tori, I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about you. About us and I need to know if I’m the only one losing my mind.”
The air rushes from my lungs. Maybe he’s just as tangled up as I am. Maybe this isn’t any easier for him.
We’re still not looking at each other. Our gazes cross the distance and bounce away before they ever meet.
“Tori, I need you to understand—” He stops short.
“Understand what?” I ask.
“This isn’t just physical for me anymore,” he says. His voice is stripped bare. “This isn’t about pretending.”
“Pretending?”
“That this is just PR. Just sex. Just anything less than what it really is.”
“And what is it, Jaxon?” My voice cracks. “Because I don’t know anymore. You’ve been in my head. I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe when you’re not around and I sure as hell can’t sleep without dreaming of you.” I cross my arms and armor myself with sarcasm. “I didn’t plan on this happening. Sure. Just part of the gig, right? Fake dating the girl who happens to be conveniently available.”
But he shakes his head. His jaw is tight, and there’s no doubt anywhere on his face. “No. Don’t do that. You know it’s more than that. I’m in love with you, Tori.”
The words hang there like lightning in a still sky.
He takes my hand, and his thumb grazes my palm. It’s so simple. So easy. But it sets me on fire.
“And I think you feel the same way.”
My breath catches. My shoulders rise, then fall. I look away. He’s right. God help me, he’s right.
I’ve put out PR fires so big they could be seen from space. I’m supposed to be strong. Impenetrable. I’m supposed to know exactly how to handle things like this.
“Say something,” he finally says. “Because I’m not walking away from you.”
“I…I don’t fall,” I whisper. “Not like this. I don’t let people in. I don’t risk everything for someone who could walk away and destroy me.”
“I’m not walking away. Not from you.”
I look up at him. “You could break me.”
“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I won’t.”
Tears prick my eyes. I shake my head, laughing softly through the ache in my chest. “Goddammit, Jaxon Reid.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m the worst. But you love me anyway, don’t you?”
My voice is trapped somewhere between my lungs and the tip of my tongue. My breath won’t come. My heart beats so hard I’m afraid he’ll hear it. I’m afraid it’ll stop entirely.
“Say you hate me,” he continues. “Say you want me to leave and never see you again. Just…just say something!”
The words are all there. They just have to make it past my own fear.
He closes the distance, and my fear dissolves. Everything dissolves. My own defenses. My own doubts. Jaxon cups my face with both hands like he’s scared I’ll disappear, like I’m something fragile he doesn’t want to break.
His kiss is nothing like the ones before. It’s soft. Honest. Deep with emotion instead of just desire. And when we pull apart, we laugh—quietly, shyly, like we can’t believe this is real.
He presses his forehead to mine. “I think I started falling for you the moment I first saw you.”
I close my eyes.
And finally, I stop fighting it.
“Yes,” I breathe. “I love you.”
It’s out in the open now. There’s nothing left to hide. My fear. His hope. It’s all hanging in the air, clear as crystal, bright as a new star. I’ve never felt so exposed. I’ve never felt so free.
He pulls me in like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s been waiting for this, like it’s the one pass he can’t let slip through his fingers. He closes the space, and I close my eyes, and the whole world shrinks down to nothing but this—his breath, my pulse, and the realization that I’m done pretending.
I kiss him back, with everything I have. With everything I’ve kept hidden, everything I didn’t dare admit until it all came spilling out and knocked us over.
He leans back just enough for us to catch our breath, just enough for our laughter to spill out and mingle in the space between us.
It’s a different kind of laughter than I’m used to. It’s not the dry, dismissive kind that’s meant to shield and deflect. It’s soft and hopeful and full of disbelief. It’s new.
His forehead presses to mine. “See Michaels. All you had to do was admit it.” He grins. It’s so bright, so wide, that I’m almost blinded by it.
“You don’t let up, do you?” I smile.
He pulls me even closer. “Nope.” He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. “You’re stuck with me now.”
My head rests on his shoulder, and everything about this moment feels unreal. I’ve spent the last few weeks playing by the rules. “What do we do now?” I ask, and Jaxon presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Now we stop pretending.”
“No more rules?”
“No more rules. Just us. For real.”
I trace a circle on his chest. He’s so solid and steady. “This is insane,” I say.
“No, this is perfect,” he counters, running his fingers down my back, sending sparks to all the places they shouldn’t reach.
Yet, it is sweet and honest and unpolished. And it’s enough to make me kiss him until we both forget where we are, until we both forget how much we’ve given up to get to this exact moment.
Before the night ends, we agree on one thing—tomorrow, we’ll have a real date. No cameras. No PR. Just us. Two people finally done lying to the world—and to themselves.