33. Rose
Rose
Rose was brushing out her hair when Kirin walked into her room, a towel wrapped around his hips. Her attention officially shifted. He leaned down to kiss her temple, his fingers notching under her chin to press her mouth closed.
“You’re drooling,” he whispered with a quick chuckle as she snapped her mouth shut and straightened. She wrapped some hair around her fingers to help her curls take shape. “Laurel is going to hate you forever if you show up tonight with a cuter hairstyle than hers again.”
“Oh, do not talk about your sister when you’re standing naked in my room.” She wrinkled her nose, and he chuckled again as he dried himself off.
“Sorry.” Kirin pulled his briefs on and crossed her room to the drawers she’d cleared out a couple of weeks ago so he could stash clothes at her place.
She pulled one side of her hair up and twisted it around her fingers.
She grabbed a thin elastic off her vanity, her fingers working easily through the lengths of her hair to braid it until she wrapped the elastic around a few times to hold it tight.
While she smoothed the flyaways, he pulled on his joggers and yanked a shirt over his head.
It cut off her perusal of his body. She frowned as he glanced over at her and smirked at her disappointment.
“We should get going.” She checked the time and grimaced. “We’re going to be late.”
Kirin nodded and crossed the room to open her door.
Rose grabbed her shoes and jogged out to the couch, where she had dumped her jacket last night.
She alternated between scrolling through the latest sports news and tugging at her shoes when an alert flashed across the top of her screen.
Her hands froze for a second, then she watched her shaking thumb open it.
She read and reread the headline, waiting for her brain to catch up with the words on the screen.
UPDATE: Westmont University Scandal: QB Arrested, Past Allegations Vanished Under Family Influence—A Pattern Emerges, Multiple Inquiries Opened
Iron Cove, MI — The arrest of Preston Goodwin for multiple counts of serious bodily harm has reignited scrutiny over a history of disturbing allegations, including aggravated assault, domestic abuse, stalking, and violations of protective orders, many of which reportedly vanished from university and court records.
Sources suggest his family may have intervened, raising serious questions about how county authorities and the courts allowed these incidents to go unchecked and what role institutional favoritism may have played in shielding him from accountability.
Rose blinked, tugging on her second shoe before the meaning registered.
She grabbed her bag, moving on autopilot as she drifted into the kitchen, her phone still in her hand.
She knew the warrant was coming—had even sat through the tense legal calls leading up to it—but she hadn’t expected it to unfold this fast.
Her legal team had prepped her for the aftermath of the warrant: she’d have to field a mountain of calls, the press would be all over it, and she, Margot, and anyone linked to the situation would be under intense pressure.
They’d reviewed every charge and every potential complication that came with reopening past allegations long buried by influence and wealth.
Margot’s legal team, stacked with high-profile litigators, had gone all in.
“Full scorched earth,” the lead counsel had said during one of the joint calls, and they meant it.
Their team had filed motions, traced old reports that disappeared from records, and tracked connections between campus officials, law enforcement, and the Goodwins’ attorneys.
What started as an investigation into Preston and his patterns of abuse had expanded into something much larger—years of silenced complaints that finally had names, files, and sworn affidavits to back them.
Rose had done her part—statements, interviews, providing every record she’d saved—and then she stayed quiet, answering only when asked.
Margot carried most of the conversations, messaging her through each call to explain the legal shorthand and reassure her when things got tense.
For once, Rose didn’t resent her. Margot understood the language and the pressure, and she made the impossible feel manageable.
By the time the last video call ended, everyone knew what would happen next. Preston Goodwin wasn’t just facing fresh charges—he was the centerpiece of a criminal investigation that could implicate half a dozen others in obstruction and tampering.
When Rose blinked back into the surrounding apartment, she saw that Kirin was moving around the kitchen with purpose, throwing water and snacks into his backpack like a team mom.
Rose leaned against the island, her unseeing eyes on Kirin’s back while she blinked against the glare of the sun bouncing off the edge of the counter.
“You good?” Kirin asked as he walked around her and came into better focus. His arms were already opening to hug her when she pressed her phone into his chest.
“It’s really happening,” she whispered as Kirin’s brows furrowed, his hand closing around hers until he could pull the phone out and read the highlights of the article.
“He still looks like shit.” Kirin’s eyes lifted to hers with a lopsided smirk. “Good job.”
“He deserved worse,” she said and dropped her head to the granite countertop. She tried to breathe with the weight lifted off her shoulders, the constant fear no longer nagging at the back of her mind.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Kirin’s arms came around her waist, drawing her back against his chest. His warmth seeped into her, steadying her pulse. “This is good news.”
“I thought I knew how this would feel, but I think part of me doubted they’d be able to pull it off.” Her voice trembled, soft but sure. “It’s over…and somehow, it’s just beginning.”
“You got this, and I’ll be here to help in whatever way I can,” Kirin said, his hands framing her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead—solid, certain—and then one softer, to her lips.
Relief rolled through her in a slow, aching wave. For the first time in months, the future didn’t look like a cliff edge. She leaned into him, eyes closed, breathing in his scent and the quiet strength he carried so easily. His heartbeat against her temple steadied the thrum of her nerves.
When she’d left home for Montgomery, she thought she was running from the wreckage. Instead, she’d rebuilt something new—piece by piece. The last year had broken and remade her in ways she was still learning to understand.
Preston’s family had buried the truth for years, but now it was clawing its way into the light. She couldn’t undo the pain, but she could make sure it meant something. Stopping him from hurting anyone else—helping Margot do the same—that was her closure.
She hugged Kirin tightly, pressing her face into his neck, ignoring the dull ache in her wrist. His laugh rumbled against her lips when she kissed his skin—a small, startled sound that made her heart lift. He’d become her anchor without ever demanding to be.
He leaned back just enough to meet her gaze. “You good?”
The light in his gray eyes shimmered like mercury, patient and open. For a heartbeat, she wanted to tell him everything—how much she loved him, how terrified she was of losing him, how grateful she was for his calm when her world spun apart.
“I’m good,” she breathed at last.
He smiled, slinging her duffel over his shoulder before she could protest. “Good. But you’re gonna be late.”
“Coach will understand. The team’s been incredible—I think they’re just happy to have me back.” She locked the door and followed him down the stairs.
“Amazing what happens when your captain actually gets to know the transfer student,” Kirin teased.
She pinched his side, laughing when he swatted her hand away. By the time they reached her Bronco, the air between them had softened into something easy and bright. He twirled her keys around his finger before unlocking the door and tossing both their bags inside.
She was halfway in when his voice stopped her. “Rose.”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“I love you too.” He grinned, kissed the tip of her nose, and stepped back with that easy confidence that always undid her.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Her heart stuttered. She opened her mouth—then closed it again as he jogged around the front, laughter trailing behind him.
He climbed in and started the Bronco, just as she was settling herself. He brushed a finger under her chin to close her still-parted lips, smiling softly before stealing another quick kiss.
“Take your time,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As they pulled away from the curb, Rose turned to the window. The campus blurred past, burnished gold in the morning sun. For the first time in what felt like forever, her chest felt light. The long night was ending—and in its wake came something blinding, and beautiful, and new.