Page 28 of Unleashed

Silence stretched between us, thick with everything I hadn’t said. I pressed my lips together, mind scrambling for something—anything—to cut through the weight of it. Possibility tangled with guilt, and neither one gave me room to breathe.

This nothing conversation was getting us nowhere, but… emotion perilously close to happiness muted my apprehension and the optimist in me wanted to grab hold of even the smallest moments with him. He’d sat down at my table. He’d asked about me. He was attempting a real conversation.

As if putting the proof to my thoughts, he leaned back in the metal chair, casually sloshing the beer around in his glass. “Been thinking about dipping over to Virginia,” he said, as though he was as reluctant as me to let the conversation end. “Puppy’s uncle has a place; he’s asked me to partner up. A hockey skills training facility that’s got a good reputation. Something I might consider for retirement.”

My mouth popped open. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but not that. Getting information out of him was about as easy as getting blood from a stone. That he’d offered personal details? Revealed a hint of his future plans, something he’d not even shared with the team?

I swallowed, emotion clogging my throat. “What kind of partnership? Would you be a coach?”

He nodded. “We’d need to work out the details, but that’s the idea. It’s either that, become a commentator.” He took a long drag from his beer before adding, “Or disappear entirely.”

“I hope you don’t disappear.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, too quick, too raw. A confession dressed as casual conversation. I swallowed hard, but it was too late. My words hovered between us, delicate and shimmering in the late afternoon air, impossible to take back.

Bright popped up from his spot in his travel pack, stretched his front feet across the closed laptop before bumping against my hand. He put his head down for a scratch and I scooped him up, burying my fingers in the thick white fur at his neck, grounding myself in the warmth of his uncomplicated company.

The silence between us thickened, weighted with something unsaid, something I hadn’t meant to expose. If I looked up now, I’d see it in his eyes—I’d see that he’d heard it. That I’d revealed too much.

The moment felt like a crossroads, a thin wire stretched between two futures. Step forward, explore where this pull between us led, or retreat before the inevitable fall. But did it even matter? The moment I turned my notes over to Malone, whatever future I might have with Jack would be erased.

Explorecould mean giving up on my goals, though. Finding another way back into an industry notorious for its closed doors.

It’d taken three years to find this one. To find Malone. My fingers tightened in Bright’s fur.

The idea of walking away, of never seeing where this thing between us could lead, lodged in my chest like a stone. My fingers curled into Bright’s fur, my breath hitching—because leaving Jack behind? I couldn’t even picture it without something in me twisting, unraveling at the edges.

As Jack lifted his glass mug to take a long pull of beer, he made it hard to think about anything except him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I remembered the feel of his hard chest against my side when he lifted me into his arms instead of letting me trip over Bright. Of his hands on my body, the heat in his blue gaze, the demand of his lips on mine. I cleared my throat, blinked, dug up a better response to his comment. “You’d make a great coach.”

“Hoss is a good guy. Seems to run a good operation.”

I nuzzled against Bright’s face, let his light purr soothe me. “He’s willing to wait until you finish the season?”

He waited until I looked up to respond and nodded, his gaze on me, the thoughtful lines around his eyes deepening. “Yeah.”

I nodded back even as my toes curled into the soles of my shoes.

“What about you?” He waved toward the street. “When the Aces’ season wraps up, that’s it for your show, right? What’s next? Another team?”

“No,” I said, skirting the truth and sharing the future I wanted, but might still be just out of reach. “Not another team. I used to do more ‘people pieces,’ human interest stories. I’m hoping to get back to doing that kind of work. Less competitive intensity, but still really exciting. To me, anyway.”

The memory of my last documentary series—the one about violence against journalists that had earned three Emmy nominations—burned in my chest. God, I’d been so close. Critics had called it “groundbreaking” and “fearlessly authentic.” Major networks had started calling. My agent couldn’t schedule meetings fast enough with producers eager to fund my next big project.

Then Sydney happened. My supposed assistant, my friend, she’d stolen everything—my concept, my contacts, my reputation. Left me radioactive in an industry that ran on relationships and image.

But I wasn’t going to let my past mistakes define me. I’d been too weak, too trusting. Not cutthroat enough. Whatever skillset had allowedherto wreck my career and cement her place in my stead, that’s the skillset I was determined to cultivate now.

Savage, if I had to be. Cutthroat, for sure.

Even if it made my skin crawl. Even if it meant sacrifices.

The string lights flickered on overhead, painting the patio in a soft glow that did nothing to warm the chill that had settled in my bones. Time to go, before I said too much. Before my own walls started to show cracks.

Jack’s eyes tracked my movements as I gathered my things. “Did you walk here again?”

“Yeah.” I tucked Bright into his pack, grateful for the excuse to avoid Viggy’s too-perceptive eyes. “Meant to leave before dark. So much for that plan.”

My hands trembled slightly as I stowed my laptop. Three years of industry exile had taught me to guard my soft spots. To keep my dreams locked safely away where they couldn’t be used against me. But something about Jack made me want to lower my defenses. Made me want to trust again.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I sat, yearning to trust Jack Vignier while I actively betrayed him. My throat closed up at the thought of Malone’s demands, of the episode that would expose Jack’s vulnerabilities to the world. In the initial aftermath of the Sydney drama, I’d sworn to myself I’d never become like her—never sacrifice someone else for my own gain.

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