Chapter 21 #2
When I shatter around him, it’s with his name on my lips, a desperate plea and a declaration all at once. And as he follows me over the edge, slamming into me one last time, his forehead crashes against mine, both of us breathless, both of us lost.
For a long moment, we just stay there, pressed against the wall, clinging to each other like we’ve barely survived a storm. His arms cage me against the wall, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us gulping for air. For a man who’s built walls so high, I can feel one of them cracking now.
He exhales, heavy and uneven, then mutters so softly I almost miss it. “Stay with me tonight.”
I blink at him, heart hammering.
“Yes,” I whisper before my brain can interfere.
His lips brush mine again, slower this time, and when we finally move to the bedroom, it isn’t rough or punishing anymore. He wraps himself around me like he’s terrified I’ll vanish if he lets go and I love it.
The next morning, I’m the first to wake up and my first instinct is to roll over and find an empty space beside me. But he’s still there.
Cameron Gray, the notorious runner, is still lying in bed with me, one arm thrown over my waist like I’m his anchor.
My chest swells, warmth blooming inside me. Maybe it’s silly, but this… this means something, right?
When his eyes flicker open, he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he smirks, voice rough from sleep.
“Hi,” he says and pull me close to him.
“Hi,” I say and snuggle up to him.
“You’re not going to work today right?”
“Nope, it’s a Sunday.”
“Good, get dressed. We’re going out.”
“Wha—"
When Cameron said we were going out, I definitely did not think that we would go shopping.
Two hours later, I’m in a boutique, standing in front of him in a ridiculous sequined dress, hands on my hips. “You dragged me out of bed for this?”
He leans back in his chair, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. “Play dress-up for me, Sparks. You know what I like.”
I roll my eyes, but the heat in his gaze makes me twirl anyway.
The salesgirl hovers nearby, clearly trying not to squeal at the sight of Cameron Gray in her store.
I’m hyperaware of the way people’s phones lift, the whispers following us, but Cameron doesn’t care.
He’s grinning like he owns the place, like he owns me and I’m just realizing that I actually do not care.
By the time we leave, hand in hand, I know the media will eat it up. And sure enough, by lunch my phone is blowing up with notifications—photos of us laughing, him holding a dozen shopping bags, me leaning into him like a real couple.
Hockey Star’s Wife Charms in Designer Dresses.
Sports gossip headlines everywhere.
However the good mood from the weekend doesn’t last. Because at work, my arch nemesis made a pact with the gods of hell to frustrate my life.
We’re halfway through the presentation when Miranda’s voice slices through the air.
“Excuse me, Brie.” She leans forward with that polished smile that makes me want to throw something. “Are you sure those numbers are correct? Because…” she lets out a dainty laugh, “I’d hate for us to embarrass ourselves in front of the executives with miscalculated figures.”
My pen stills in my hand. I can feel the eyes of the room shift to me, waiting for a stumble. I look right at her and smile sweetly. “Yes, Miranda. I’m sure. Unlike some people, I check my work thoroughly.”
A low chuckle ripples around the table. Miranda’s smile flickers, then tightens again like she’s stapling it to her face.
“Oh, well,” she says airily, flipping her hair back. “I only ask because, you know, last quarter you—”
I cut her off before she can drag out one of her little anecdotes.
“Last quarter you submitted a report with the decimal point in the wrong place. It took me half a day to fix your mess before it went out to clients. I didn’t mention it then, because I didn’t think embarrassing you in public was productive. ”
Gasps echo softly across the table. One of the execs actually raises his eyebrows, biting back a grin.
Miranda’s face flushes pink. “That’s not what happened,” she snaps, voice tight.
I lean forward, still smiling. “Isn’t it? Should I pull up the file?”
Her mouth opens, then snaps shut. She darts a glance at the boss, then back at me, trying to recover.
“This is really unprofessional. You’re making it personal when all I care about is the company’s reputation.”
I don’t even blink. “And yet you’ve interrupted me three times today alone. If you truly cared about the company, Miranda, you’d let me finish so we could all get on with actual work.”
A few people murmur their agreement. The smugness drains from her face, replaced with something uglier—anger.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she hisses, though her voice carries enough for the table to hear. “Just because you’ve been given some tiny little project doesn’t mean you suddenly matter. You’ll crash and burn like you always do.”
That does it. I set my pen down, deliberately calm. “If I crash, at least I’ll be standing on my own two feet. Not clinging to other people’s work and passing it off as mine.”
The room goes dead silent. Miranda’s jaw works like she’s chewing glass.
And then Mrs. Randolph slams her folder shut. The sound makes everyone flinch.
“Enough.” Her voice is clipped, commanding, final. She looks right at Miranda. “Brie will handle this project, as assigned. You will not interfere. And you—” her eyes narrow, sharp as a blade, “need to learn some grace. Try acting like a lady in this office instead of a playground bully.”
Miranda’s face goes scarlet. She drops her gaze to the table, lips pressed so tight they’re almost white.
I resist the urge to grin, but I can’t stop the flicker of satisfaction that curls in my chest. Finally.
But the victory tastes sour that evening.
On my way out, I freeze by the glass doors of the lobby. There’s Miranda—pressed against Cameron’s teammate, the one they call Jack, their mouths locked together like they’re starving.
My stomach drops in surprise and dread and a lot of questions run through my head.
How the hell do they know each other? Does anyone else know about this?
I duck back before they notice me, heart racing, questions piling up. Are they working together? Is this some twisted game? Knowing Miranda, it probably is and knowing Jack and everything he’s said and done to Cameron, I have a very bad feeling about this sudden relationship.
Cameron comes home just after sunset, tossing his keys onto the counter with that careless flick of his wrist. He looks tired, but there’s still a sharpness in his eyes, the kind of edge that says he’s been thinking too much.
I should probably let it go, but the image has been gnawing at me all day, and I can’t keep it in any longer.
He raises a brow at me. “You look like you’re about to tell me that the world is about to end. What’s up?”
“I need to tell you something,” I say, my voice tight.
He raises a brow, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the table. “That sounds serious.”
“It is.” I fold my arms, grounding myself. “After work today… I saw Jack…your teammate…I saw him with Miranda.”
He pauses mid-light, glancing at me. “With Miranda?”
“Yes. Together. In the parking lot. They were—” I bite my lip, forcing the word out. “Kissing in the parking lot.”
For a second, there’s nothing but the scratch of the lighter as he flicks it open and lights the cigarette. He takes a drag, exhales a thin stream of smoke, and leans back. “So what?”
My chest tightens. “So what? Cameron, I just told you that I saw the guy who was weirdly staring at me with the devil’s spawn together and you don’t think that’s fishy?”
He shrugs.
“Well, my gut has never been wrong about people, and I’m telling you—those two are up to something. I don’t know what, but it’s not any good.”
He smirks faintly, like he’s already made up his mind. “Brie, you’re overanalyzing. Jack’s dumb enough to get tangled with someone like Miranda, and Miranda—well, she looks like she’ll grab on to anyone who gives her the time of day. It’s pathetic, but it’s not some grand conspiracy.”
“I can’t believe you right now. You don’t get it.” I shake my head, frustration simmering under my skin. “This is not normal. This isn’t good! Something’s going on. Something doesn’t add up. It’s really weird that they’re together.”
“Brie.” His voice drops, calm, almost dismissive. “You’re stressing yourself over nothing.”
I stare at him, searching his face for any flicker of concern, any hint that he might take me seriously. But all I see is his indifference, his confidence that it’ll all blow over. The dismissal stings more than I expect.
“Fine,” I say, my voice flat. “Forget I mentioned it.”
I turn away before he can reply. If he won’t listen, then I won’t waste my breath. For the rest of the evening, I keep my words to myself, leaving his questions to hang unanswered in the air.