Page 116 of Jett

“He’s also driven you absolutely mad,” she quips. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten all the times you’ve ranted about him.”

“That’s true.” I laugh despite myself. “But right now? I’m happy, El.Reallyhappy.”

“That’s all I want for you. But, you know, I still need details. The nitty-gritty. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I'm not going to give you the nitty-gritty,” I reply, but can't help adding, “but I think you would be impressed.”

“Impressed?What the hell did you do, Car? Give him a blow job?”

The silence stretches just long enough for her to cackle on the other end.

“Oh my God, Car, you did!” she teases.

I open my mouth to deny it, but just then, the door to my room creaks open, and Brooke’s little face pops in. “I have to go,” I blurt, my voice higher than usual. “Talk soon!” I hang up before Eliana can say another word.

Brooke steps closer, her curls bouncing as she tilts her head. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just my best friend, back home,” I say, smiling down at her as I quickly toss my phone onto the bed. But my cheeks are still burning, and I swear Brooke’s sharp little eyes notice everything.

Chapter 41

JETT

When I finally arrive back in Bermuda, it’s well past midnight. So much for tying up loose ends quickly.

Just as I was about to head home, the whistleblower decided to backtrack, claiming he’d been coerced into making the allegations. It set off alarm bells with the SEC, throwing everything into chaos. I spent the entire day in damage-control mode—mediating between lawyers, regulators, and the whistleblower’s team. It was a delicate balancing act, and every second felt like walking a tightrope over open flames.

By the time we wrapped things up, it was late—too late—but I was determined to get back. I chartered a flight and land on the island in the early hours of Tuesday morning.

The house is quiet, bathed in moonlight. As I pass Brooke’s room, I peek inside. She’s curled up under her blanket, her tiny hand resting on her cheek. Peaceful. Innocent. My heart softens as I lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.

The door to Cari’s room is open, the bed visible from where she keeps an eye on Brooke. I hesitate, my body itching to go to her, but the long day clings to me like a second skin. I need a shower first.

I head to my room, stripping off my suit and stepping into the hot spray of water. The tension begins to melt away, but it doesn’t dull the ache in my chest. It’s been days since I’ve seen her, touched her. And now, our days here are numbered. The sinking feeling stays with me, weighted with grim foreboding.

I don’t know how I’m going to manage without Cari in my life.

When I return to my room, the bed feels empty—too empty. I can’t stay here.

I find myself standing in the doorway of her room, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She’s lying on her side, her breathing soft and steady, her hair fanned across the pillow. Without a second thought, I slide into bed beside her, putting my arm around her waist.

Her familiar scent washes over me—vanilla, apples, fresh-cut flowers—and my chest tightens. She stirs, turning onto her back, her eyes fluttering open just enough to register me.

“You’re back,” she murmurs sleepily.

I press a kiss to her lips, unable to resist. “I missed you.”

She sighs, her exhaustion evident. “What time is it?”

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her eyes drift shut again. “But what time is it?”

“One in the morning.”

“What day is it?”

I chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re exhausted.”

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