4. Jeremiah
Jeremiah
This has got to be some kind of sick joke.
The star quarterback. Golden boy of Richmond high.
The last human I thought I’d see when walking into that damn meeting. Shocked me so badly, my heart nearly stopped.
Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes, but I don’t blink. I plant my feet, fists clenched so tight my knuckles ache beneath my wraps.
Then—thud.
My fist slams into the heavy bag, the impact rattling back into my arm.
Thud.
Mother-fucking Chase Rutherford.
Thud. Another. Hard punch. Faster.
One look at his face, and I’m stumbling all the way back down the same dark tunnel I’ve tried so hard to crawl my way out of.
Thud.
Thud. Thud.
My breath is sharp and ragged, but I keep going, driving my fists into the bag like I can beat the frustration out of my body.
High school feels like a lifetime ago, but that frail, shy, quiet boy is right below the surface.
I shift my weight and snap my leg up—bam—a roundhouse kick sends the bag swinging, the chain above groaning from the force. It comes back at me, and I meet it with another kick, harder this time, my shin connecting with the leather so fiercely that pain shoots up my leg.
“Shit!” I hiss, limping away.
Fuck it. I can keep going. Just have to shake it off for a second.
I turn back and prepare to begin again.
“Whoa, there.“ Coach Reggie steps over to me, grabbing the bag in his hands, disrupting my flow. “Keep going like that and you’ll hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I pant, hands on my hips as I pace.
His lips thin as he scoops up my water bottle from the ground before holding it out for me to take.
“You’re in your head,” he mutters.
I huff out a laugh at the irony of it all.
After high school, I took up jiu-jitsu, if nothing else, as a way to get out of my head.
“Yeah, I guess I am.” I nod, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. My hair falls over my forehead, dripping down my nose, reminding me way too much of how I kept it back in high school. I thread my fingers through my hair, pushing the strands off my face.
He huffs out a laugh, placing his hands on his hips. “Is it something or someone?”
Both, I think.
But I only shrug before squirting some water into my mouth.
Taking my silence as an answer, he continues. “Well, if they’re worth the thought, use it to fuel your power. Work with it, not against it.”
My brow arches. That’s a little spot-on for this situation. “What if… it’s less about them and more about me?”
Seeing Chase’s face reminds me a little too much of who I used to be. I’ve come way too far to slide back now.
I’d rather we just pretend what happened never existed. But something about the way he looked at me tells me he’s not going to let that happen.
Coach Reggie holds his strong stance, puffing out his chest. “Then, I’d say don’t be an idiot.”
This makes me bark out a laugh.
He points to me, eyes low. “Don’t let anyone make you forget who you are. They don’t get to have that power over you.”
I nod, placing my water bottle at the side of my area. “Got it, Coach.”
It’s best to distance myself from Chase. I’ll be damned if I let a cocky, self-entitled brat mess with me or my new position.
“Keep your head up, kid,” he pushes the sack toward me, and I greet it with a punch of a fist. “And for what it’s worth, you never know. Sometimes people can change.”
A smile filters on my lip as I give the bag another hard kick, this time landing it perfectly.
“And some don’t,” I breathe.
***
I flip through the stack of executive agreements, NDAs, and code of conduct documents laid out in front of me. It feels like I’ve read these onboarding packages a hundred times in my life.
Every new position starts the same way. Stacks of paperwork, signatures, and legal jargon that slowly begins to blur together.
Usually, I can push through it.
But right now, it’s becoming harder and harder not to get distracted.
Especially when one very agitating fact keeps pulling at my thoughts.
Chase Rutherford is the Marketing Manager. Of course he is. Always climbing to the top of the ladder.
“Morning, Mr. Blackwood.” The young woman, Bailey—I believe her name is, from the front desk—beams at me.
I smile and nod, waving her in.
“Please, call me Jeremiah. Blackwood sounds…” I cringe, giving a pretend chill, which makes her giggle.
I could see a slight blush of pink creep up her face. “Like your father?”
My lips purse as I nod.
“Understood.” She smiles, sliding a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. “I was wondering what time you’d like me to notify everyone about your meeting this morning?”
I sigh, slipping off my glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose.
Dammit. I forgot I was supposed to do that.
“Could you please notify everyone in ten minutes? I just need a moment to get through some of these documents.”
First day on the job, and I’m already drowning in heaps of paperwork? The legal team probably gets off on making this as convoluted as possible.
“Sounds great,” she says, opening the door. Before she leaves, she glances back at me over her shoulder, giving me a sheepish smile before heading to her desk. Is she interested in me?
She’s a pretty girl, but—
My train of thought is interrupted by my eyes catching on the one person whom I hadn’t seen today yet.
Chase strides through the office floor, dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and fitted navy pants.
With dark aviators still on, and his loose curls styled to perfection, it angers me how much he still drips of arrogance.
Just like in high school, he sticks out like a beam of light.
I watch as he stops to say hi to a woman sitting at her desk.
She swivels in her chair to face him, her long, dark braids cascading down her back.
He hands her a takeout cup, and she looks up at him through impossibly long eyelashes.
A second later, she’s laughing, like whatever he said was the funniest thing she’s heard all morning.
Is that his girlfriend? She’s stunning, so I wouldn’t be surprised. Are people allowed to date here?
That question dissolves in my mind the moment I see him gaze over his shoulder as soon as Bailey passes him, on the way to her desk.
Pig.
Turning, his eyes flitter to mine, almost like he knew I was watching.
I dart my attention back to the sheets of paper on my desk.
“In the event of corporate restructuring, the undersigned agrees to—"
My eyes betray me, seeking to find him again. I only now notice he’s holding a tray of drinks as he drops off a to-go cup on the beautiful woman’s desk before he starts walking again.
Fuck, he’s heading my way.
Silently cursing myself for watching too intently, I flip through the documents again, tapping my pen on the desk. It’s not long before I hear my office door open.
“Morning, boss.”
Flicking my wrist to check the time, I shake my head. “You’re late.”
A loud thunk vibrates my desk. I look up and immediately regret it.
It’s the monstrosity of a drink request I requested yesterday.
It’s greenish-brown, for goodness sake.
“You didn’t—“
“Oh, I did.“ Chase smirks at me from across the desk, wearing that infuriating Rutherford grin.
“And after some back and forth with a very impatient barista, here is your complicated thirty-two-ounce Muscle Max Supercharged Vanilla Machine.
“ He nudges the drink closer to me. “You’d imagine my surprise when I realized JumpMax was an hour away from here.”
I can’t help but grimace as I look down at the thick sludge, reminding me a little too much of the worst day of my life.
“Thank you. But next time, I expect you to plan accordingly. I don’t respect tardiness,” I say as coolly as possible. I set the drink aside and go back to flipping my paper.
I can feel him bristle in front of me. Unfortunately, still unmoving.
“You’re not going to drink it?” Disappointment laced on his tone.
My brow arches. “Am I required to?”
“I want to know if what I got was what you wanted.”
I glance at it, my stomach already turning. “I’m sure it is.”
His lips press together. “Well, I—could you just…” He shifts on his feet. “Please?”
Holy hell. What is with him?
“You seriously—“ I drop my pen on the paper, frustrated. “Fine.”
I pop the straw in and bring the drink to my lips. Reluctantly, I slurp back some of the liquid into my mouth. It’s not terrible, but honestly I would’ve preferred a classic strawberry banana smoothie.
His eyes widen as he watches me drink it down. “Holy! I really didn’t think anyone would actually drink that.”
I remove the straw from my lips, choking down the thick substance. “Satisfied?”
His mouth ticks. “Very.”
His gaze lingers on mine a moment too long as I swallow down my sip.
“Good. Now, I’d really love to finish these before our morning meeting.” I set the drink aside, picking up the documents again.
“Oh! Right, yeah. Our morning meeting. I was just about to head there.” He nods.
My eyes narrow. “The announcement hasn’t even gone out yet.”
Chase bites down on his bottom lip, a slight blush creeping on his face. “Right.”
I roll my eyes. This guy.
“Oh, before I go.” He stuffs his hand in his front pocket and takes out a small chocolate wrapped up in golden tinfoil.
Walking over to me, he places it down on my desk.
I blink, looking at the small chocolate. “A Ferrero Rocher?”
He grins excitedly.
“Why is there a Ferrero Rocher on my desk, Mr. Rutherford?“ I ask again.
“I just thought with all your nutrients and protein powder and such, you could make a little room for something sweet.“ He tilts his chin to the chocolate.
“Well, I don’t eat sweets in the morning,” I frown, picking up my pen and using it to nudge the chocolate away from me.
“Everyone needs something sweet in the morning.“ He winks, walking backward. “See you at the meeting,” he says, tapping on the door before he leaves the room.
I look down at the chocolate on my desk, staring at me like it’s a bad omen or something. I push the chocolate as far as possible away from me. All the way until it falls off my desk and I hear it hit the bottom of the trash bin.
Frankly, I can make do with a little less sweetness in the morning. Thank you very much.
Especially when that sweetness is coming from Chase Rutherford.
I don’t need chocolate from him.
All I need is for him to stay the hell away from me.