Page 49

“I’ll call her later,” I reply, already turning toward the car.

Charlie nods once.

“Take care of the rest,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward the wreck. Charlie gives me a playful salute, understanding without further instruction.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I start the engine, the deep, controlled rumble grounding in a way the crackling fire never could. The world narrows into something manageable again as I pull away from the curb. In the rearview mirror, the remains of my car shrink into the distance, swallowed gradually by flashing lights and drifting smoke. I watch it for a moment longer than necessary before my attention shifts back to the road ahead.

Backwoods University is a twenty-minute drive away, and my younger brother’s basketball game starts in less than that. Missing it because of something as trivial as a burnt car would be embarrassing.

❧

The gym is loud in a way that feels earned, with laughter spilling over itself, sneakers squeaking against the floor, voices rising and falling in bursts of excitement that refuse to settle. The game is over, and the tension that once filled the space has broken apart into something lighter and alive. At center court, Jamie and his teammates are tangled together in celebration, clapping shoulders, pulling each other into careless hugs, talking over one another like none of them want the moment to end.

I stay where I am, seated high enough in the stands to take it all in without being drawn in. From here, the noise dulls just enough, the movement softens at the edges, and I can focus on what matters.

On him.

There’s something about him that draws people in effortlessly. Not loud like the others, not overbearing, but steady and confident. The kind of presence that doesn’t demand attention yet gets it anyway. I watch the way his teammates orbit him, the easy camaraderie, the trust. It suits him.

He’s grown into himself.

I watch him laugh at something one of his teammates says, his head tipping back slightly, shoulders loose, the weight of the game already gone from him.

It takes him a second to find me. His gaze drifts across the bleachers, past faces that don’t matter, until it lands. When it does, his entire expression shifts. His face opens into a wide, unguarded smile, the kind that reaches his eyes, easy, familiar, and entirely his.

It hits something quiet in my chest.

Then I nod and let a faint smile follow, something quieter, but real enough to answer his. Lifting my hand, I gesture toward the exit with a slight tilt of my head that says what it always has.

Outside. Our spot.

Understanding clicks into place instantly. He grins wider, if that’s even possible, and gives me a quick, exaggerated salute. It’s the same one he’s been giving for years, as if he finds some satisfaction in knowing it’ll get the same reaction from me every time.

It does.

I shake my head, a quiet huff of amusement slipping through before I push myself to my feet.

The noise follows me part of the way as I step down from the bleachers, fading gradually with each step until it becomes something distant, something easy to ignore. By the time I push through the doors and into the hallway, it’s little more than an echo.

The air is cooler than I expect, carrying the faint bite of evening as I step out toward the far side of the building. The campus stretches out in dim light and long shadows.

I make my way to the spot without thinking—a worn bench tucked just far enough from the main path to be overlooked, but close enough that Jamie found it years ago and claimed it like it had been waiting for him.

Like it had been waiting for us.

I sit, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting against my thighs as I glance out across the empty stretch of pavement. For a moment, there’s nothing but stillness.

Then, inevitably, my mind drifts.

Not to the game or even Jamie.

But to Maksim.

The thought of him doesn’t arrive gently; it never does. It hits hard and immediate, dragging everything else out of focus. Those eyes of his come first, dark and alive with something reckless, something unhinged that never quite settles. That handsome face of his. An intoxicating mix of European sharpness and Asian allure. Striking in a way that doesn’t feel entirely real, a blend of features that makes people look twice and then look again, like they can’t quite place him but can’t ignore him either.

And then there’s that smile. That infuriating, knowing curve of his lips, as if he’s already five steps ahead, watching everything unfold exactly as he wants it. As if he knows what he does to me and enjoys it far more than he should.

My jaw tightens slightly as I remember what happened in my office days ago.