Chapter 28 #2
Because whatever’s between Nolan and me—whatever storm we are—I still have my own thunder. And I don’t need a handout. I don’t need a man stepping aside like he’s doing me a favor. I never have. If Nolan “White Knight Complex” Rhodes thought I needed saving, he never really understood me at all.
My chin lifts, that stubborn, wild part of me—the part that never has learned how to back down—burns hotter than ever.
Let them all underestimate me. Let them hand me losses, or pity, or a victory they think I didn’t bleed for. I don’t want the easy win.
I want the fight.
I always have.
And the next time someone tries to clear the path for me, they better pray I don’t bulldoze right through them anyway.
After my meeting with Laurel, I make my way back to my office to look up Nolan’s email and give him a piece of my mind. I am not a charity chase.
I cross the threshold of my office ad stop short at the sight of a sleek black box on my desk.
Not large. Not flashy. But it is deliberate.
Perfectly centered. Tied with a midnight-blue satin ribbon. A small, gold metallic card sits on top like the final, knowing touch. The navy-embossed script reads:
Tell me you’re still thinking
about that sink.
Because I sure as hell am.
My pulse skyrockets.
Not because I don’t know who it’s from.
But because I do.
I stare at it for a solid minute, heart hammering. It’s about to break through my ribcage.
My palms tingle with anticipation and something close to dread.
Is this a post-hookup gesture?
If so, it’s… intentional. A line being drawn in a place I swore I wouldn’t let it be.
I drop into my chair and immediately send a text to our group chat.
Emergency meeting. My office.
Now!
Two minutes later, Jeremy bursts in like he’s been launched from a cannon. “What’s wrong?”
Maya follows, far more composed, holding her phone. “This better be an actual fire or I swear to God—”
I point to the box.
They both freeze, look down at it.
“Who’s it from?” Maya asks slowly.
“Nolan.”
“Girl,” Jeremy starts. “If he gives this for a glorified dry hump, and finger fuck, I shudder to imagine what happens after full-on dick penetration.”
“There will be no dick penetration.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, circling the desk as though he’s casing the joint for clues. “So, are we opening it? Or are we just gonna admire the sexy packaging?”
Maya perches on the edge of the desk. “You’ve got that I’m pretending to be mad but also weirdly giddy and freaking out internally look. Very on-brand for you.”
I cross my arms. “It was a mistake. A lapse. We had too many cocktails and a moment of weakness. I’ve rebooted. I’m fine.”
Jeremy throws his arms out. “Oh dear Lord, open it.”
I sigh, untie the ribbon, and lift the lid.
Inside is a delicate glass orb swirling with flecks of indigo, violet, and silver. It’s a bottled night sky.
There’s a tag attached:
Our stars will never fade.
Maya snatches the accompanying card and unfolds it. Her eyes skim it. “Oh. Ohhh.”
“What?” Jeremy leans in.
Maya reads the card aloud. “March fifth. Five forty-seven p.m. This was the night sky the moment everything splintered. When the universe cracked open and let light slip through. We were tangled in other lives, but sometimes things fall apart to make space for the unexpected. For someone worth the break.”
Silence.
Total, stunned silence. Because that day burns through my veins like acid.
Maya’s brows lift. “It’s very Mr. Darcy meets NASA.”
I blink, trying to find words that don’t exist.
Jeremy swallows then says, “If that’s not emotional terrorism, I don’t know what is.”
“Yeah but what’s the date?” Maya asks.
I open my mouth.
Then close it.
Open it again, heat crawling up my neck. “It’s the day my dad died.”
Maya’s head snaps toward me. “Wait. What?”
They stare at me.
“I had just bombed the Stanfield pitch,” I say softly. “I ran into Nolan that day. It was the first time we’d ever seen each other.”
Jeremy stares at the print, reverent. “Okay, I take back every slanderous thing I’ve ever said about straight men. This is the shit.”
Maya clutches her chest.
“So this a first met star map?” Jeremy asks. “Not a post-dry-hump star map?”
“Apparently,” I mutter.
“Oh no, that’s actually worse,” Maya says.
“So much worse,” Jeremy agrees, eyes wide. “That’s not just romantic. That’s soul-bond-level.”
I can’t breathe. They’re right. He marked it in the stars. And suddenly the orb isn’t just sweet or sentimental. It’s staggering. It’s terrifying. It’s a reminder of every moment I haven’t stopped thinking about, but definitely haven’t been ready to feel.
Until now.
And maybe not even now.
My hands are trembling as I close the box, like shutting it will somehow muffle the roaring in my chest.
This is more than I bargained for. And way more than I know how to handle.
Our stars will never fade.
The phrase drifts through my mind, soft and echoing.
But this time, it’s not Nolan I see, it’s my dad. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, pointing up at the night sky with that quiet certainty only he carried.
“Some stars are stubborn, Rorie-girl,” he used to say. “They hold on. Even when everything else fades.”
Swallowing hard, I blink against the sting. Nolan has no idea what kind of connection this gift touches. No idea what those words mean to me.
He was only trying to be sweet. Romantic. But this cracked something open. And I don’t know if I’m ready for what’s on the other side.
I slide the box aside, careful not to look at it, because if I do, I’ll start spiraling all over again.
My fingers hover over the small business card tucked beneath the lid. Nolan Rhodes, Big Stream Marketing. His number printed beneath in elegant black font.
“You going to text him?” Maya asks.
I shake my head no, and slip the card into my wallet, behind my ID. The place where I keep the things I’m not ready to let go of.
Jeremy watches with interest. “I can’t believe this man gave you a galaxy?”
Hands planted firmly on my hips, I level him with a look.
“So like… what does his cock get you? A personalized comet? A minor planet? The deed to the moon?”
Maya still hasn’t spoken. Which, frankly, is alarming.
Her eyes track the box. She’s still trying to compute what just happened.
So am I.
She shakes her head, disbelieving. “I’m literally a professional at this and even I don’t know what to say.”
My throat is tight. Because I don’t either. Not when part of me wants to rip this connection out by the root before it becomes something more…
…and the other part is already watering it like a lunatic.
Maya tilts her head, studying me. “You’ve got some soul-searching to do, friend.”
Yeah.
No kidding.
And somehow, Nolan Rhodes has become the one thing I didn’t plan for—
A complication I want.
And that might be the most terrifying part of all.