Chapter Twenty-Five
RETREAT
Tori
Imake it home on autopilot.
Keys in the door, shoes kicked off, I head straight to the couch where I curl up in a ball and stare at the wall as if it might tell me what to do. My phone buzzes in my pocket every few minutes with texts I can’t bring myself to read.
Dana’s words echo in my mind: Him or your career. You can’t have both.
The truth is, I already know what I’m going to do.
I’ve known since I walked out of her office with my heart in my throat and my future in pieces on the floor.
I’m going to end it. I’m going to tell Zayden we can’t do this anymore, that it was a mistake, that I need to focus on my career and he needs to focus on Maisie. We should just... stop.
It’s the smart choice. The safe choice. The choice that protects everyone.
So why does it feel like I’m about to rip out my own heart?
A knock on my door makes me jump.
I know who it is before I even look through the peephole.
I mentioned my building once—complained about the fourth-floor walkup after a long shift—and apparently that was enough for him to find me.
Zayden stands in the hallway, still in his workout clothes, looking like he drove straight here from the gym.
His jaw is tight, his eyes worried, and he’s so unfairly beautiful it makes my chest ache.
I open the door.
“Hey.” His voice is rough. “You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I know. I just...” I step back to let him in because I don’t know what else to do. “It’s been a day.”
“Yeah. I heard.” He moves past me into my apartment, taking it all in—the tiny galley kitchen, the bookshelf overflowing with anatomy textbooks and romance novels I’d die before admitting to, the plants on the windowsill that I somehow keep alive despite everything.
His eyes land on the fuzzy blanket bunched up on my couch, where I planned to curl up and die tonight.
It’s nothing compared to his place with the big windows, the chef’s kitchen, and the room for Maisie to run around. But it’s mine.
He turns to face me. “Banks told me about the rumors. About Dana pulling you in.”
“Of course he did.”
“Don’t be mad at him. He was trying to help.” Zayden’s eyes lift to mine and his expression hits me right in the chest. “Are you okay?”
“Just peachy.”
“Tori.” He takes a step closer. “Please. Talk to me.” His voice is steady, but the rest of him isn’t. There’s a crease between his eyebrows that I want to smooth away with my thumb.
“Dana gave me an ultimatum. You or my career.” I force myself to meet his eyes, but the rehearsed words get tangled on the way out. “I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how to do the right thing. For both of us.”
“The right thing.” He repeats it flatly.
“The smart thing. The responsible thing.” I wrap my arms tighter around myself. “Maybe we should just... stop. Before this gets any harder. You go back to your life, I go back to mine, and we pretend—”
“No.”
“Zayden—”
“I said no.” He closes the distance between us, and suddenly he’s right there, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes. “You don’t get to make this decision for both of us.”
“Someone has to be rational here.”
“This isn’t rational. This is you running scared.”
“I’m trying to protect—”
“I don’t need protection. I need you to stop shutting me out.” His voice cracks on the last word, and something in my chest cracks with it. “I’m not willing to walk away from this without seeing where it could go. Are you?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“Tori.” He takes my hands, and his are shaking slightly. Or maybe mine are. “Let me fix this. Let me talk to Dana. The team leadership. Whoever I need to talk to. I need to know your job is safe before we make any decisions.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can try.” His grip tightens on my fingers. “I’m not asking you to choose me over your career. I’m asking you to let me fight for a world where you don’t have to choose at all.”
I sway, resolve loosening. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then at least we’ll know we tried.” He brings one hand up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “But I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t give up on me. Not yet.” His eyes search mine, desperate, hopeful, and terrified all at once. “Can you do that? Can you give me a chance to make this right?”
I should say no. I should tell him it’s too risky, too complicated, too much. I should protect myself the way I always have.
But I’m so tired of protecting myself.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?”
“Okay. I won’t give up on you.” A tear slips down my cheek. “Not yet.”
Something in his expression breaks open—relief, maybe, or hope—and then he’s kissing me. Soft at first, almost tentative, like he’s asking permission. I respond by pulling him closer, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and the kiss deepens into something desperate, aching, and real.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“I have to go,” he murmurs against my lips, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m going to figure this out.” He sounds more confident than I feel.
“Okay.”
One more kiss—quick, fierce, a promise—and then he’s stepping back, letting go of my hands like it physically hurts him to do it.
He pauses at the threshold, looking back at me with an expression that makes my heart stutter.
“Goodnight, Tori.”
“Goodnight.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and I lean against it, pressing my palm flat against the wood as if I can still feel him on the other side.
I don’t know if he can fix this. I don’t know if anyone can.
But for the first time today, I have something I didn’t have before.
Hope.
· · ·
I don’t sleep that night.
The next morning, there’s a knock on my door at 7 AM. When I open it—still in my pajamas, hair unwashed, looking like a cautionary tale about poor life choices—my mother stands there with a bag of bagels and an expression that says she’s not leaving until she gets answers.
“Mom. What are you—”
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” She pushes past me into the apartment. “The last time you ignored my calls, you’d failed organic chemistry and were convinced your life was over.”
“I didn’t fail. I got a C-minus.”
“Same thing, in your mind.” She sets the bagels on my counter and turns to face me. “So. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Victoria.”
I hate when she uses my full name. It makes me feel twelve years old again, unable to lie under that steady maternal gaze.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad.” She pulls out a chair and sits. “I drove two hours. You’re going to talk about it.”
So I do. I tell her everything—Zayden, Maisie, the rumors, Dana’s ultimatum—and by the time I finish, my cheeks are wet and she’s holding both my hands across the table.
“So that’s it,” I say. “I either choose him and lose my career or choose my career and lose him. There’s no option where I get both.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Zayden said he’d talk to team leadership, that he’d... go to bat for me. The thought is both sweet and mortifying. I never wanted to be that girl. The one who caused a rift and needed a man to clean up her mess. The one people whispered about in the break room.
“Okay. So let me ask you something else.” My mom tilts her head. “This job—does it make you happy?”
“Of course it does.” I nod. “I’m good at it, and it makes me feel accomplished,” I say carefully. “Helping athletes.”
She nods, like it’s the answer she expected. “And Zayden? How does he make you feel?”
“Terrified,” I whisper. “Out of control. Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.”
“That’s not all, though. Is it?”
“No.” I swallow hard. “He also makes me feel... seen. Like I don’t have to be perfect to be enough.”
“And Maisie?”
The mention of her name sends warmth through me. “She’s the sweetest little girl, Mom. And I want it. Not just kids in general, but that life. With them.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Because what if I ruin it? What if I give up everything and it still falls apart?”
My mom cups my face in her hands. “Victoria. Listen to me. You’ve spent your entire adult life building walls. After what happened with Jason, you decided you’d never let anyone have that kind of power over you again. But at some point, the walls that protect you become the prison that traps you.”
She wipes a tear from my cheek.
“This man isn’t trying to break down your walls. He’s standing outside them, knocking gently, asking if you might want to let him in.”
“What if I let him in and he hurts me?”
“He might. Love is a risk.” She says it simply. “But it’s also the greatest, most beautiful thing in the world.”
Her words unlock something inside me.
“I need to call him,” I say.
“Probably.” She stands, pressing a kiss to my head. “But first, shower. You smell like regret and dry shampoo.”
“Mom.”
“And eat a bagel.” She’s already pulling plates from my cabinet. “You’re going to need your strength for whatever comes next.”
I pick up a bagel and give her a grateful look. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“I’m always here, love.”