Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Her eyes sharpen a fraction. “And now?”
I hesitate, because these are such personal questions, but the words come anyway. “Now… he’s been incredible through all of this. Stepped up without being asked. He’s steady and present, and he does everything with this quiet intensity. So many of the same qualities I loved and respected in Gray, I see in him.” My voice wavers, and I bite down on the edge of it.
Brienne studies me for a beat, then says gently, “It sounds like you’ve developed feelings for him.”
The rush of heat to my cheeks is immediate, hot enough I want to fan myself. “No,” I blurt, too sharp. Then, more honest. “Well. Maybe… a little.”
The truth is, I’m falling for him as my walls continue to crumble. This is nowhere more evident than by the fact that he successfully talked me into staying in his bed all night after we had sex. It had been getting harder to leave it, and when he once again asked me to stay last night, I relented.
Brienne’s smile holds no judgment, just patience. “So what’s keeping you from exploring more than a co-parenting arrangement?”
I stare at the ice below, at the blur of players skating lazy arcs during warm-ups. “Trust,” I say finally, because although I’m in his bed all night now, I’m still keeping pieces of myself locked away.
Her brows lift, inviting me to go on. I study her expression, analyze her posture. I look closely for some sort of ulterior motive, and apparently, I’m wearing that suspicion on my face.
Brienne nods as if she understands everything. “You don’t have to tell me a thing, Maddie. I’m a safe space, but I also understand you don’t know me.”
I’m not sure what it is about this entire scenario—so very weird sitting in a luxury suite with a billionaire woman asking me to spill my heart, and oddly, I seem to trust her.
I swallow hard. “I grew up in foster care.” The confession feels like it echoes too loudly, even over the arena noise. “Trust is… complicated for me and I learned to never expect anything from anyone. It’s hard never having anyone to depend on. You shield yourself from possibility.”
For a moment, I brace myself for pity. But Brienne doesn’t flinch or look away. She nods, slow and thoughtful, like she’s cataloguing every word. “And Atlas?” she asks.
I let out a shaky breath. “He feels… different. Safe, but also risky. I imagine it feels a lot like lacing up skates and stepping onto the ice for the very first time. I don’t trust the feeling and I’m pretty sure it’s going to hurt when I fall.” My laugh is hollow. “It’s easier to tell myself not to risk it than to brace for when it cracks.”
Brienne leans forward, her tone low and certain. “First, love the ice-skating analogy. Second, trust doesn’t mean you know the ending, Maddie. It just means you’re willing to give someone the chance to prove you wrong about the worst you expect.”
Her words settle into me, heavy and frightening and hopeful all at once. Before I can respond, the lights dim. The announcer’s voice booms through the arena, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
Brienne touches my arm again. “We’ll talk more, but right now, let’s go cheer our boys on.”
She guides me from the high-top to the cushioned seats at the very front of the suite. Three tiers down and it feels like we’re hanging over the ice with the most amazing views.
The national anthem begins and we stand. I press a hand to my chest, surrounded by twenty thousand voices hushed to a reverent quiet.
My breath catches.
Below, Atlas stands at the blue line, helmet tucked under his arm, head bowed. He looks immovable, carved into the ice itself. Pride swells in me so sharp it’s almost painful. Then the final note hits, and the arena explodes in sound—cheers colliding in one furious storm.
Atlas skates to the bench, takes a seat as the first line gathers at center ice.
I don’t know what I am to him. Co-parent. Hookup. Something in between. Maybe nothing more than tonight.
But right now, with the crowd thundering and the anthem echoing in my chest, I am proud. Nervous, overwhelmed, half out of place—but proud.
For tonight, I accept it and if I’m lucky, I will learn to enjoy it.
♦
The family lounge buzzes with leftover energy from the win—kids weaving through legs, half-eaten sandwiches on the catering table, highlight reels looping on the mounted flat-screens. I stand in a corner, hands tucked in my pockets, trying not to look like I don’t belong.
It’s painful, being the outsider, but I’m saved almost instantly by Winnie edging through the crowd. “There you are!” she exclaims.
I accept her hug, squeezing back with true affection.
“So, what did you think about the game from the owner’s suite?” she asks.