Page 25 of Claiming My Grumpy Ex

Jake nodded, already half-asleep as he murmured, “Night, Mom. Night, Dad.”

The words hit me like lightning, and I exchanged a look with Cory, who seemed just as stunned. But Jake’s eyes were already closed, his breathing evening out as sleep took over.

Cory stood first, his expression a mixture of pride and awe. “Did he just…?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. Together, we quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind us.

As Cory drove back to the park, the air between us was thick with a mix of relief and unspoken emotion. Jake’s acceptance had been more than we could have hoped for, but the weight of the day still lingered.

When we arrived, Cory parked near my car, the lot empty and quiet under the glow of the streetlights. “I’ll follow you back, make sure you get home safe,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Thanks,” I replied, offering a tired smile.

As I slid into my car and started the engine, my phone buzzed in the cup holder. I frowned, picking it up to seeMomflashing on the screen. My stomach tightened as I answered, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”

Her voice was bright but carried an edge of guilt. “Hi, sweetie. Just wanted to let you know we’re back in Beaver Creek. Got in a little earlier than planned.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to mask my surprise. “That’s… great. Are you glad to be back in the Lone Star State?”

“Of course,” she replied. “But we’re sorry we missed Jake’s championship game. Your father feels terrible about it. How did it go?”

“They won,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. “Jake played great.”

“That’s wonderful! We’ll have to celebrate soon. Maybe dinner this week?”

“Sure, we’ll figure something out,” I said, my mind racing.

As we hung up, I sat there, gripping the steering wheel. The thought of explaining Cory’s reappearance to my parents made my stomach churn. They’d never forgiven him for leaving me, for disappearing without a word. How would they react now, knowing he was back in my life—and in Jake’s?

A tap on my window startled me, and I looked up to see Cory leaning down, concern etched on his face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing the tension out of my voice. “Just… my parents are back in town.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

I hesitated, glancing away. “It’s… complicated. Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Cory nodded, sensing I wasn’t ready to dive into it. “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything.”

As we drove back to the house, I couldn’t shake the weight of the call. Tomorrow, I’d have to figure out how to handle the inevitable clash between my past and present. But tonight, I let myself focus on the small victories—Jake’s acceptance, Cory’s presence, and the hope that, somehow, we’d find a way through.

I turned and waved as Cory’s SUV continued down the street, a part of me wishing he had stayed.

Thirteen

Cory

When I walked in, the cabin was quiet, the type of stillness that usually helped me think. Tonight, though, it felt suffocating. I kicked off my boots by the door and headed straight for the fridge. The cold beer felt good in my hand, a small comfort in the whirlwind my life had become.

Popping the tab, I sank onto the couch, trying to make sense of the day. Jake and I had really connected—and for the first time, I thought maybe I was starting to find my footing in this mess that I called my life. And Elena... God, Elena. She was there, always there in my thoughts, making me feel things I wasn’t sure I deserved anymore.

I thumbed the remote, flipping on the TV to drown out my thoughts. The first thing that hit me was the glow of flames. The screen lit up with a live shot of a building in Dallas engulfed in fire. My building.

The beer slipped from my hand, splashing onto the rug. I leaned forward, gripping my knees as the news anchor rattled off details.

“A five-alarm fire continues to rage in downtown Dallas tonight, consuming the offices of The Horizon Foundation. Firefighters struggle to contain the blaze, and there’s no word yet on injuries or the cause.”

My chest tightened. That wasn’t just a building. It was my foundation, my work, my people—the building I had inherited from Grandpa.

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