Page 99 of Unleashed

Jack’s lips twitched. “Your cat still judges our life choices, I see.”

Jack’s thumb swept across the inside of my wrist again, slow and grounding. He didn’t rush.

“I’ve watched that episode more than a few times now,” he said, voice roughened at the edges. “Could probably recite it frame by frame.”

I looked up, breath caught.

“The way you told it—” He shook his head once, jaw flexing. “You didn’t just show what I did. You gave it shape. Seventeen years on the ice, and somehow you pulled the meaning out of the bruises. You made my years count—for me. For the guys I played with. For everyone who thinks the Cup is the only metric of a successful career.”

My throat tightened. I could feel the tears threatening again, but this time I held them back. “Because that’s who you are. The guy who stays late to run drills with the new call-ups. Who blocks the cameras from the rookies when they screw up. Who makes everyone around him better.”

His gaze sharpened, locked on mine. “Including you?”

The breath punched out of me. “Especially me.”

More words scraped free—raw, unfiltered. “You reminded me what it looks like to hold the line. To stand for something that isn’t about headlines or clout. Even when it costs more than you thought you had to give.”

Lightning flashed outside, casting shadows across his face. His fingers tightened just enough to anchor me.

“That why you walked away from Malone?” he asked. “From the career you damn near broke yourself trying to rebuild?”

“Part of it,” I whispered. “After Sydney gutted me, after she took credit for everything I’d built and burned my name in half the rooms that mattered, I was drowning. I knew it. Malone knew it. He dangled a way back in, and I took it. Told myself I was being smart. Strategic. Just part of the business.”

His silence waited—not for excuses, but for the truth.

I met his eyes. “But watching you—watching you fight through the season, injured and exhausted, still showing up for your team...” My words drifted into quiet and I shoved my hand through the mess of my hair. “It wrecked me. Because I knew I wasn’t doing the same. I wasn’t showing up for anyone. Not even myself.”

My voice cracked. “The tribute episode wasn’t about your career, Jack. It was my apology. My line in the sand. My way of saying, I won’t play it safe anymore. I won’t trade truth for access. Not again.”

His thumb pressed lightly into my wrist, not soothing, just reminding me he was there. That he had me.

“You knew what Malone would do if you pushed that episode through. And you did it anyway.” His fingers slid beneath my chin, coaxing my gaze to his. I let him tilt my face up, didn’t fight it—couldn’t. The rough heat of his touch anchored me, pulled me back into my body. If I could have curled into him, I would have.

“That wasn’t a tribute, Lily.” His voice dropped, roughened at the edges. “That was you, clawing your way back to the woman you were meant to be.” His palm cupped my cheek, the scrape of stubble brushing my skin as he leaned in. Breath warm against my temple. His voice a whisper in my ear. “I’m proud of you.”

The words landed with quiet force. No fanfare. No conditions.

Heat surged through me—low, deep, spreading outward until my knees steadied and the storm outside faded away. I could finally breathe without bracing for the fallout. The future was no longer a blank page I had to apologize for.

Above us, Bright chirped again. Tail swishing off the shelf like he’d been waiting to deliver his line.

Jack’s lips twitched. “And apparently, your cat approves. He’s gotten talkative.”

“Only with people he likes.” The words slipped out, weighted heavier than I meant them to be. “He missed you.”

Something shifted in Jack’s eyes—softer now, darker.

“Nice to be missed by a grumpy cat.”

My throat tightened. Heat bloomed behind my ribs.

“I missed you too.” The words barely made it past the tightness in my throat. “So much.”

“Yeah?” He shuffled us back, crowding me back against the desk. Wood dug into the backs of my thighs, but all I could focus on was him—close, warm, impossible to ignore. “Tell me how much you missed me, Hollywood.”

The old nickname hit like a shot of whiskey—burning sweet and dangerous. “So much.” My breath came shallow, my skin buzzing everywhere he hovered. “I missed your laugh. The way you’d tease me when I murdered grilled cheese at midnight. The way you made me feel like I could breathe when everything else was caving in.”

Thunder cracked overhead but I barely noticed. Not with his scent wrapping around me—rain-soaked cotton, warm skin, Jack. Not with his chest brushing mine every time he exhaled.

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