Page 74 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

Hey, Vaughn. I wanted to apologize for the way it went down. I never intended to keep anything from you. I’m here for you.

I hit Send, my heart racing.

I can only hope he’ll respond. I understand it’s a risk, but I can’t allow our relationship to fall apart based on misunderstandings. He must know that I care.

Waiting for a reply, I decided to stop thinking about the heavy stuff for a second. I scroll through social media, hoping that something will lift my mood, and that’s when I find Collins’s Instagram. He’s been posting more often these days, and I feel an urge to peek.

I click his profile to scroll through recent posts. Most are lighthearted, featuring him training with his team and going on trips. But then I see it—a picture that makes my heart drop.

It’s a picture of Collins in a bar, and in the background is Jenna, the woman from the gym wear brand. She is having drinks with Vaughn, and her laughter is spilling over the edge of the frame as she leans into Vaughn, who has a drink in his hand. He looks disheveled and clearly intoxicated. Seeing him like that makes me uneasy.

“Is this what Vaughn is doing?” My heart sinks as I murmur to myself. Vaughn wouldn’t even get involved in something like this, especially with everything else he’s going through.

I swipe through the photos, and my stomach turns as I see more of the same. In one, Jenna is practically draped over Vaughn with her hand on his arm and her eyes all flirtatious. Another shows her whispering in his ear while Vaughn’s face shows a mixture of drunken amusement.

Betrayal, frustration, and anger surge through me. How could he let this happen? Doesn’t he understand that he can’t be seenwasted like this with the accusations hanging over him? I didn’t think he was as bad as this.

My heart is beating like mad. I tossed my iPad onto the couch. I feel a wave of emotions hit me—hurt, anger, but also an emotion of protectiveness for Vaughn. I can’t help but wonder where I could have stood by him, only for him to get tangled up in this mess now.

I try to take a breath and calm the anger seething inside me. I don’t have the right to tell him what to do. He’s a grown man; he can make his own choices. It’s a slap in the face to see him with Jenna after everything we went through.

I pick up my phone once more, about to text Vaughn and ask what the hell I just saw. But then I hesitated. Shouldn’t I wait to hear his side before jumping to conclusions? He may not even remember what went down. Maybe his judgment had been clouded by the alcohol, and I know how quickly things can get out of hand.

I take a deep breath and tell myself to be calm about this. I can’t let my emotions rule me; I have to be rational. Rather than sending him a message, I chose to wait for him to respond to my earlier one. Because if he’s really in trouble, I need to be there for him, not alienate him.

I sit on the couch, and my mind runs with thoughts. I can’t get the image of Vaughn laughing with Jenna out of my head. It stings with jealousy, but I know I must put my emotions under control. I want to talk to him about the bribery incident and how he’s dealing with all of this, but I also need to let him come to me.

An hour later—and still no response. I scroll through the comments on the post, going back to Collins’s Instagram. Fans are speculating about the dynamics between Collins, Jenna, and Vaughn, and I see a mix of admiration and confusion. My heart sinks further.

Jealousy doesn’t take long to rear its ugly head, and I can feel the anger rising anew. Seeing him with Jenna cuts in a different way. It’s one thing for Vaughn to flirt with other women.

I decided to just throw caution to the wind and tackle him physically. I quickly get dressed, grab my car keys, and exit the house.

The emotions inside me are just too much as I drive to Vaughn’s house. The idea of being the bigger person and the concern to begin with has escalated into simmering jealousy that I can’t shake. I can’t erase from my mind the image of him laughing with Jenna—how she leaned into him. It’s consuming me.

The further I move toward his mansion, the faster my heart beats, but not with excitement. Anger and hurt are about to bubble over. How could he get into that? How could he throw away everything we’ve made together? I was convinced he cared about our connection, but now, I’m beginning to wonder if I am simply a convenience, a role to fill until something or someone better comes along.

I pull into his driveway and steady myself for what’s going to happen. I’ve had enough tiptoeing around my feelings. But if he wants to act like it doesn’t matter, he’ll have to face me. No more playing nice. I need answers, and I need to know where I am with him.

I got out of the car and walked right up to the front door, heart pounding. I knock hard, and it seems to echo through the quiet. In moments, Vaughn opens the door, and I watch the surprise flicker across his face. He looks a little disheveled, with his hair slightly messy, and I can smell the faint scent of alcohol on him.

“Rachel,” he says, his voice a mix of confusion and something else—maybe guilt? “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk,” I say, my tone sharper than I intended. “What we need to talk about is what’s going on between us.”

He pauses, and I can read his contemplation. He responds cautiously, but I can’t be sure he heard me. “I’m not sure this is a good time,” he says.

“Not a good time?” I step inside without an invitation, scoffing. “While I’m being accused of something I didn’t do, you’re out drinking with Jenna. Now would be the time to talk if there ever was one.”

His expression shifts, irritation appearing in his eyes. “You don’t have the full picture, Rachel. You don’t need to come in here making assumptions.”

“Assumptions?” My frustration is boiling over. “I saw the pictures, Vaughn. You looked cozy with her, and now, you’re telling me you’ve got everything in hand? Why do you push me away? It feels like you’re pushing me away, and I want to know why.”

He runs his hand through his hair to process my words, and then he takes a step back. “It’s complicated,” he finally says, but I can see the defensiveness creeping into the way he stands.

“Complicated?” The jealousy makes my anger burn, and I laugh bitterly. “Is that what you call it? I’m out here trying to support you, and you’re letting yourself be seen with her? Do you even care how that looks?”

He snaps, frustrated: “I care about what’s happening with the team and this stupid investigation. I have no time for this right now.”

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