Page 59 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

Vaughn looks at me, his face serious. “I can’t miss this opportunity, Rachel. The team is counting on me. I need to get back to work.”

“But what about us?” My heart sinks. I thought we were going back together. Suddenly, the joy of our rescue seems overshadowed by the reality of our lives apart.

“I know,” he says, his voice softening. “But you have to take care of yourself first. You’ve been through a lot. You should go back to New York for medical attention and rest.”

I blink, absorbing his words. The logic is sound, but emotionally, it cuts me to the bone. “Are you just going to send me away? Just like that?”

Frustration flashes in his eyes. He shakes his head. “It’s not like that, Rachel. I want you to be safe. This is what’s right for you right now.”

The tension thickens between us, and I can feel my heart racing. I want to tear down the walls he’s trying to build between us. I want to argue. “But what about us?” This time, my voice trembles, and I ask again, “What happens when you get to Australia? What happens to what we have?”

His jaw tightens as though he’s struggling with his own emotions, and he looks away. He finally admits, “I don’t know. I just need to get this done. It’s important.”

The confusion and fear that have been there since we first came to the island settle heavily in my chest, mixed with disappointment. What I want to do is scream, shake him, and make him see that this isn’t just about work. It’s about us, about the connection we made during those turbulent days.

Before I can say anything, the rescuer steps in and breaks the tension. “We can arrange for a boat to take you both to the mainland,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring. “We’ll have to put her medical needs first, but . . .”

I notice the conflict in Vaughn’s eyes. He nods. He says he’ll arrange for a flight to Australia as soon as he can, and I feel a pang of frustration.

I hold my breath, trying to regain composure. This isn’t how I planned our reunion to go. “Fine,” I reply, my voice cold and distant. “You do what you need to do.”

“Rachel . . .” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Just let me go, Vaughn. You’re right. I have to take care of myself.”

I step away, my heart catching in my chest, and I look away. I don’t want him to see me fall apart, not right now. This sudden separation makes the excitement of being rescued hollow. He’sdoing this for my health, I remind myself, but the weight of his decision presses down on my heart.

The rescue team gathers around us, ready for what’s next, and I try to bring my focus to the present. Now, I can’t let my emotions control my actions. I suck in a deep breath to help myself stay strong and face the truth of our situation.

Vaughn steps closer. “Let’s get you taken care of.” His touch warms my hand as it brushes against mine.

“Yeah,” I reply, trying to sound more composed than I feel. “Let’s do that.”

I look back at him. Our eyes meet for a moment, and then I slowly take a step away to join the rescue team. There’s so much more to say and so many questions hanging in the air.

For now, I need to get medical attention and go back to New York.

We make our way back to the mainland, the boat rocking gently with the waves lapping against the hull—a constant reminder that we’ve just escaped the ocean. I perch on the edge, staring out into the distance where the sky meets the water.

I keep seeing Vaughn’s face, serious, as he held me close in that pool. There’s a pang in my chest, a longing and confusion. What’s going on in his head? Does he wish he never shared what we had on the island? Does he already consider it a moment of weakness, a lapse of judgment?

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He’s told me time and time again that work is his highest priority, and I can’t afford to get caught up in the what-ifs. I remind myself that Vaughn does not want the mess of emotions anymore. The man I knew before we were stranded is still there, just buried under the weight of his responsibilities and career.

As the boat nears the dock, anxiety stirs in my stomach. I’m going back to my old life, which somehow feels alien after allwe’ve been through together. What do I do now that I’ve lived so close to him? After sharing something so intimate?

As soon as we dock, I step off the boat and take in the fresh air of the mainland, the smell of salt and freedom filling my lungs. As I head to the car, I try to shake the lingering thoughts of Vaughn. The bittersweet ache in my heart for the island behind me remains, but I can’t help feeling a little excited that I’m going home.

The drive is dull, and the scenery is blown past me as I concentrate on the road. I replay the moments from the island in my mind—the laughter, the fear, the connection. Of course, I can’t stop thinking that I want to talk to Vaughn and figure out what it all means. I know he’s busy. He has responsibilities before anything, and with every passing mile, I remind myself of that.

The relief washes over me as I pull into my driveway and see my home. I immediately call out for my cat, Archie, as I step inside. “Hey, buddy! I’m home!”

Almost instantly, he races out from under the couch and runs toward me. I scoop him up into my arms, bending down. He purrs softly in the space between us, and I smile. “I missed you so much,” I murmur, burying my face in his fur.

His little body is warm against mine, and it comforts me after the whirlwind of emotions over the past few days. I sit down on the couch with Archie still in my arms and take a deep breath. I let the routine of home soothe me as I pet him, trying to push thoughts of Vaughn from my mind.

But it’s difficult. I remember every moment we spent together, and I cannot stop wondering if something has changed inside me. I don’t know—everything seems different now. I can’t help but wonder if Vaughn feels the same way, too.

I look out the window, watching the evening sky turn pink and orange as the sun sets.

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