Page 52 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

He resumes walking, this time in long strides, leaving me struggling to catch up to him.

Chapter twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Vaughn

The soft rain strikes the leaves above, the sound blending with the crackle of the fire we’ve been able to get going. Now, I feel the warmth of the flames, stark against the damp chill of the air. Across from me, Rachel, her face lit by the flickering light, sits, and I feel calm for the first time since we crashed.

I look over at her, watching as she pokes a stick into the fire, and the fiery sparks shoot into the air. It’s oddly endearing how her brows furrow in concentration. This whole ordeal has really brought us to the brink, yet here we are, sharing moments that feel almost . . . normal.

“What’s up with your family?” Rachel suddenly asks. She leans back against a log with her arms crossed over her knees. Her gaze is open, willing to pry, and it makes me uneasy.

I shrug and stare into the flames. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?” Her eyes dance with a playful challenge. “You can’t avoid that forever, Vaughn. You’re not playing soccer here. You’re stuck on an island.”

In spite of myself, I laugh, and the sound escapes before I can stop it. “You think I’m avoiding it? I don’t have anything to say.”

“Come on,” she pushes, her tone teasing but insistent. “You’re not that macho. We’re stuck here. You can’t keep pretending to be the tough guy.”

Instinctively, my jaw tightens. I snap, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “This is who I am. What do you want me to say? That my family is a mess? That we don’t get along?”

I am surprised when she lets out a small laugh. “So you admit it. You really are a dismissive robot with mean red eyes.”

Her words take me aback, and I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Red eyes,” she repeats, grinning. “The way you glare at people when you’re in a mood, you know. You think you’re some kind of robot programmed to be angry all the time.”

The laughter bursts uncontrollably between us. I can’t help but laugh, too. It’s foreign, but it’s refreshing. “Maybe I have my moments. But you always listen to my tantrums without complaining.”

She tilts her head to one side and looks at me. “Vaughn, maybe that’s because I’m just trying to survive out here. That’s not me throwing fits.”

“Is that so?” A smirk tugs at my lips, and I challenge her. “You’re as stubborn as I am. Think about how you demanded I follow you earlier.”

“I had to!” she protests, laughter still dancing in her eyes. “You were leaving me alone with a snake!”

“Right. Can’t argue with that logic.” The warmth of the fire wraps around us like a blanket. I shake my head. The rain gets a little harder, but it doesn’t matter. We’re safe here together.

The laughter dims, and I think of my family. The truth is that it’s complicated. I’ve been vulnerable for so long, building walls around myself, convinced that vulnerability is a weakness. This is Rachel, and Rachel is different. She chisels away at those walls, and I want to let them fall to reveal something deeper, rawer.

“Fine,” I say, my voice quieter now. “My family is complicated if you really want to know. I was young when my parents divorced. My dad was all about his work, and my mom . . . I’ll say this much: she had her issues. We never really talked about anything that mattered.”

Rachel listens, and her eyes are open wide with understanding. It’s kind of weird to let someone in, but something about the way she’s looking at me makes it easier. “That sounds rough,” she says gently. “Is that why you’re so . . . I don’t know, closed off?”

The fire crackled, and I slowly nodded and gather my thoughts. “Yeah. Early on, I found out that showing emotion meant I was being vulnerable. I thought being tough was the way to get through it. But it just made me . . . angry. And alone.”

“I get that,” she replies, her voice soft. “At least you aren’t alone anymore, Vaughn. We’re in this together.”

Her words are hanging above heavily. Then, I know this island of danger and uncertainty has become a place of connection for us. It’s taken away the roles we played and shown something real underneath.

The rain falls, and I no longer feel the chill. A voice in my head tells me that this vulnerability doesn’t have to be a weakness. At this moment, with Rachel by my side, I realize that thingsare starting to change. It can be a bridge—between us in ways I never thought possible.

The fire crackles, and the rain trickles softly around us. I take a breath and feel the weight of my walls begin to break. Perhaps—just perhaps—I can show her who I really am.

We share a look, and for a moment, the world outside freezes, fades. The flames of the candles are flickering and casting dancing shadows across Rachel’s face, illuminating the uncertainty she’s feeling and something more, something deeper. I can feel it, too—an electric tension starts to buzz between us with each heartbeat.

Finally, she breaks the connection, looking away as if being forced to look into my eyes is too much to ask. A part of me wants to extend a hand, to yank her back into this moment, but I don’t. I look at the rain, how it sounds gently on the leaves, and the heat of the fire, seemingly keeping us out of the world beyond.

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