“What do you think, Archie?” I ask my feline companion, voicing my inner turmoil. He just blinks up at me. “Do you think he’ll call?”

I know I shouldn’t expect anything. After all, I had made it clear that I was going to focus on my own life. Yet, I still hold onto the hope that this isn’t the end of our story. A part of me wonders: weren’t we real to each other on the island?

I shake my head again, frustrated with myself. “Rachel, stop it,” I whisper, setting Archie down and standing up. “You need to be practical. He’s got a career, and you’ve got your own life to get back to.”

I find it hard to concentrate as I move around the house, unloading my things and trying to settle back into my routine. Even the smallest sound brings my mind back to Vaughn—his laughter, the way he looked at me when we kissed. And it makes me a little mad. I can’t seem to escape the memories.

A while later, I curl up on the couch with Archie at my side, turning on the television to try to drown out the feeling. Even the show’s mindless chatter can’t drown out the thoughts running through my head.

What if I reach out to him? Would that be so wrong? I hope we can work it out. I hope we can navigate whatever it is we feel for each other. I also know that it’s really hard for him to let anyone in.

I lean back against the cushions and close my eyes as the night wears on, finally succumbing to tiredness. Archie curls up next to me, and I start to drift off, hoping that when I wake, I’ll have some clarity. Deep down, however, I know that clarity may not come easily, especially when it comes to Vaughn. The questions of love, connection, and what it truly means to let someone in, hover in the air. But the real world is waiting, and I need to move forward.

Chapter twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Vaughn

The engine hums below me, Sydney’s bustling streets speeding past as I sit in the back of the car. The sun is out, but it feels a little cold; the weight on my shoulders isn’t in the least bit light. Every media outlet and headline is filled with news of our time on the island.

“Vaughn Graham,” one headline reads, “A Picture of Resilience.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at how truly absurd it all is.Resilience?That word feels hollow—a label that doesn’t even come close to defining the insanity of the past few days or the mental anguish I am still in the midst of trying to overcome.

I look out the window, and the city looks blurry. The storm is brewing inside me, but people go about their day, walking along the sidewalks, not giving a damn. They don’t know what it is liketo be stranded on that island, scared out of your mind as the hours tick away. The polished image of a soccer star does not include the man who lost himself in the chaos of emotion and vulnerability.

And now, I can’t think about that. I have a mission to focus on—my “Save the Ocean” campaign. I’m here to stand up for something I care about, and I know I’ve got to show up with a good front and be who I’ve always been.

As we pull up at the venue, I exhale, square my shoulders, and shake off the frustrations of the past week. I can see the banners being set up and the atmosphere buzzing with activity. I can feel the energy of it. It’s infectious, and my competitive spirit kicks in. That’s where I excel—on the field, in the limelight, where I can focus on something bigger than myself.

I step out of the car, and I am immediately bombarded with camera flashes and reporters shouting my name. I feel overwhelmed but put on my game face—the one I’ve used so many times in public. I smile and wave at the crowd as they want, but inside, I’m fighting the thoughts of Rachel.

Snippets of conversation trickle over me as excitement hums in the air while I make my way inside.

“Did you hear about his time on the island?”

“He’s such a hero for keeping it together.”

“What a dedicated athlete!”

I steel myself, not letting their perceptions shake me. I know that public opinion is fickle and how fast things can turn. For now, I lean into it, letting their admiration push me forward.

Once inside, I’m led to the stage and positioned at the podium. The crowd settles, and I can feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. I clear my throat and start to talk. The words flow about ocean conservation and what we can do together.

“This mission is about more than just me,” I say, my voice steady and strong. “It’s about all of us protecting our planet. We can make a difference.”

I get a rush of adrenaline as the crowd claps.

This moment is where I can channel all of what I’m feeling—pressure, uncertainty, the chaos of the island—into passion and purpose. As I speak, I feel the connection with the audience growing. I will talk about the initiatives we’re pushing forward and the partnerships we’re forming.

Yet, I can’t shake the thought of Rachel. As I glanced out over the sea of faces, I ask myself again,How is she? Has she settled back into her life in New York? What does she think of it all?

Something inside me has shifted. My time on the island unearthed emotions I had buried for so long, and I can’t help but feel the loss now that I’m apart from her.

As the event ends, handshakes and congratulations pour in from all angles, but my mind is elsewhere. I wander around the venue, shaking hands and posing for photos, but it feels a bit flat. The cheers and applause turn to a distant hum as I look for something—or someone—familiar.

Finally, I step outside to breathe in some fresh air. The sun has fallen lower in the sky, casting gray shadows across the pavement. I close my eyes, letting the heat wash over me, and lean against a railing.