Page 72 of Wrong Score

“Thank you,” I choke out as the delivery team offers a polite nod and exits, leaving me alone in the silent room with Leo still on the line.

“Rowan?” His voice pulls me back, soft and kind. “Think about my offer, alright? Whether something happens between you and my brother or not, you’re what this magazine needs. You could work remotely to start, but ultimately, we’ll want you here to manage your own team in Liverpool. Your own staff.”

I wipe my face, trying to pull myself together. “My own staff?” I murmur, the prospect is almost too big to process.

“Yes. Your talent is bigger than anythingThe Seattle Sunrisecould ever deserve,” Leo says, sounding confident. “And I spoke with Harper. We’re going to do some big things in the years to come. We need you on board for this. I’ll send over a complete benefits package and a sign-on bonus I think might persuade you.”

A part of me swells with excitement, and I feel the temptation tugging me in, drawing me toward this incredible opportunity, one I’ve only dreamed of. But another part of me feels trapped, torn between my future and the growing secret that I’m carrying Bex’s child. I can’t just take a job halfway across the world without telling him about the baby.

But what if he doesn’t want this child? Or worse, what if he thinks this is just another angle, I’ve taken to trap him? There’s no easy answer, no simple solution, and I feel the weight of it pressing down on me, heavy and unrelenting.

“I’ll… think about it,” I finally whisper to Leo, my voice shaky.

“Good,” he replies, clearly pleased. “I’ll send over everything to your email, and you can take a look when you’re ready.”

We say our goodbyes, and as I hang up, the room feels quiet, almost hollow. The painting catches my eye again, and I stare at it, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the gray uncertainty clouding my mind.

I press a hand to my stomach, the weight of the baby inside me more real now than ever. How can I bring a child into this? How can I leave Bex, take this job, and move halfway across the world without giving him the chance to know? And yet, how can I stay here, jobless and directionless, when I have a chance to build a life for myself and this child?

The offer is everything I’ve wanted professionally… but now my life feels more complicated than ever. The idea of working for Leo, managing a team, building something entirely my own—it’s thrilling. But it’s not just about me anymore.

My heart aches as I gaze back at the painting, its brushstrokes capturing more than just a beautiful image. It holds a piece of Bex too, of the man he is beneath the walls and gruff exterior. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance he’d understand. Maybe he’d even want to be part of this, part of us.

But there’s only one way to find out. And whatever comes next, I owe it to both of us—and to this tiny life growing inside me—to tell him the truth.

I have to shake this off because I need to head to my OBGYN appointment.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Bex

I can hear it in Leo's voice over the phone. He's been dying to give me hell since he heard about the painting I bought for Rowan and what I paid. I believed it when Harper said that she doesn’t share the buyer information of purchased pieces, but the art world is tight knit and not shocking to find out that the information got back to Leo.

“Word around town is that some rich hockey bloke bought the Effervescent Embrace for three times what it sold for only a few hours before, yeah? Can you believe that?” I can hear the smug sound in his voice and the chair in his study groaning as he leans back into it.

“Don’t start, Leo.” I say, scooping protein shake powder into a plastic tumbler to take with me to the stadium gym.

Leo doesn’t heed my warning, a throaty chuckle escapes instead. “Just admit that you have it bad for this girl. She’s special, I already know that. So when are you bringing her home to meet Mum?”

The question hits me harder than I’d like to admit. “There’s nothing to bring home, alright?” I growl, the words tasting bitter. “It’s done. Finished.” The pain of it still throbs, like a chunk of my heart got ripped out and left to freeze over on the rink.

His voice turns serious. “Done?” he asks, as if annoyed by my answer. ”And all because of that story she ran about you onThe Seattle Sunrise’ssocial media page? Just a clean cut then?”

I exhale sharply while twisting the lid on my tumbler. “More like a jagged one,” I mutter. “She didn’t just write a story, Leo. She laid out my life, like she was peeling it open for the world to see. Lily, Dad, every goddamn private moment she could dig up. And for what? A promotion for a job she didn’t even want?”

“Now hold on, that doesn’t sound like Rowan at all,” he says, the sound of concern in his voice.

I snap back, frustration bubbling up. “How do you know what ‘sounds like Rowan’?”

I hear his chair move again like he is preparing for battle. “She’s been helping me get the magazine fully online. I offered her a full-time job, thinking she’d jump at it. I also know that her talents are wasted in sports media—no offense. But she turned it down. Wouldn’t take it, and now I think I understand why.”

“How is that supposed to mean anything to me?” I ask, trying not to let him needle me. “You’re telling me that makes her a saint? I gave her everything, Leo. Every part of me she wanted, she got.”

Leo shakes his head, undeterred. “What journalist, who supposedly sabotaged her personal life to get ahead, would turn down the job she’s always dreamed of—one that pays double, includes a living stipend, and her own bloody corner office—just to avoid stepping on your toes?”

He has a point and it has me questioning her motives. If Rowan was hell-bent on advancing her career at any cost, she would’ve taken that job with Leo in a heartbeat. But she didn’t. She turned it down, and there’s a crack in the certainty I had before.

I clench my jaw. “You’re right, none of it makes sense. But the article had her name on it. She must’ve done it. And she’s one of the only people that knows over half that stuff in the article.”

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