Emily.
7 years ago. The roar of the crowd sounded around the field, but I barely heard it. All I could focus on was him…Cole Grayson. He stood in the center of the field, the late afternoon sun had a golden halo over his dark hair. His movements were without effort, calculated, as he dodged past opposing players. The ball seemed like an extension of him, and every time he scored, the crowd erupted in cheerslike a storm. From my spot on the bleachers, tucked away in the furthest corner, I watched through the safety of my thick-rimmed glasses. My cheeks burned, though I told myself it was just the sun. Who was I kidding? I was completely smitten. Damn. The cheerleaders screamed his name, waving banners with Cole scrawled in bold letters. Even the guys who pretended not to care shot him envious glances. Cole wasn’t just the star player; he was the star of the entire school. I sighed, hugging my knees. It had been four months since I joined Westbridge, and ever since that rainy day, he’d been on my mind. It wasn’t much…he’d just handed me an umbrella. I was stranded outside the library, soaking wet and fumbling with my books, when he walked up, calm and unreadable. He didn’t say much, just handed me his umbrella and walked away into the rain as if it were nothing. But to me? It was everything. I knew it was silly. Girls like me didn’t belong in the orbit of someone like Cole. He was untouchable, like a shooting star streaking across the sky while I sat on the ground wishing I could be closer. Still, I couldn’t stop staring. His smile when he scored, the way he high-fived his teammates…it was magnetic. A world I’d never belong to. “Emily, stop staring,” I muttered to myself, shifting uncomfortably on the bleachers. But my eyes betrayed me, glued to the field where he stood, shining brighter than anyone else. Did he even remember me? Probably not. To him, I was just some random girl with glasses and bad hair. The final whistle blew, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Cole’s team had won, of course. His teammates swarmed him, shouting and slapping his back. The cheerleaders screamed his name, waving their banners. Cole stood in the middle of it all, grinning that easy, heart-stopping grin of his. His hair was damp with sweat, his jersey clinging to him, and yet he looked like he’d stepped out of a glossy magazine. He waved at the crowd, soaking up their adoration like it was his birthright. As he left the field, girls swarmed him. Some held out water bottles, others just giggled and tried to catch his attention. He didn’t push them away; he leaned into it, laughing and tossing a few playful winks. My stomach twisted, but I couldn’t stop the ridiculous hope bubbling inside me. I adjusted my glasses, my heart hammering as I clutched the strap of my backpack. Cole had smiled at me before…not often, but enough to make my pulse race. I convinced myself it meant something. Maybe it was crazy, but I’d made up my mind. Today, I was going to tell him. What’s the worst that could happen? At least I’d know. I waited outside the locker room, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure anyone passing by could hear it. The hallway was quiet except for occasional laughter or footsteps, but my nerves made everything seem amplified. When the door finally opened, my breath hitched. Cole stepped out, still damp from his shower, his hair slightly tousled, droplets of water clinging to his neck. He wore a crisp white t-shirt and jeans, his effortless style making him look like he belonged in a fashion ad. A group of his friends followed, their laughter carefree as they shoved each other playfully. I clutched the strap of my backpack tighter and took a shaky step forward. My knees felt like jelly, and my palms were sweating, but I had to do this. “Hey… Cole,” I said, my voice trembling. He stopped mid-laugh and turned to look at me, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “Hey,” he replied casually, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone. One of his friends nudged him, smirking. Cole exchanged a quick glance with them before turning his full attention to me, his brows slightly raised. “I—uh—I need to… talk to you. About something.” “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He tilted his head, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Go ahead.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stared up at him. He was so tall, so… magnetic. Everything about him screamed confidence, and it was overwhelming. My words jumbled in my head, my tongue suddenly refusing to cooperate. “It’s…it’s kind of private,” I stammered, glancing nervously at his friends, who were still standing nearby, clearly interested in the unfolding scene. Cole raised an eyebrow, the smirk growing a little. “Relax,” he said, his voice almost teasing. “Just say it.” His gaze was steady, and it felt like I was standing under a spotlight. My heart raced, and my throat felt dry. But this was it… my moment. I had to say it. I sucked in a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had. “I—I like you,” I blurted out, my words rushing out in a panicked jumble. I winced as soon as I said it, wishing I could disappear. “I mean, I’ve had feelings for you… for a while now. Ever since…” I trailed off, my voice faltering as I glanced down, too scared to meet his eyes. My hands twisted together in front of me as I kept going, my words tumbling out awkwardly. “I know it’s probably silly, but… you’re amazing, Cole. You’re kind, and talented, and—” I paused, finally glancing up. His expression made me falter. At first, he seemed stunned, his brows furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. For one fleeting moment, I thought I saw something softer in his eyes. But then, his lips curled into a slow smirk, and the warmth in his gaze vanished. “Wait… what?” his tone was laced with utter disbelief when he asked. “I—I said I like you,” I repeated, with a trembling voice. And that was when it happened. His face twisted into pure amusement, and before I could brace myself, he threw his head back and laughed…a big, boisterous laugh that echoed through the hallway. It wasn’t just a chuckle or a polite laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made his friends snicker and glance at each other, and it felt like a sledgehammer against my chest. I froze, my breath hitching as I watched him. He clutched his sides, shaking his head like what I’d said was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “You… you have feelings for me?” he repeated the question between laughs, his voice already filled with complete incredulity. My face burned as humiliation sank in, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. His laughter still continued, loud and cruel, and it felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving me stranded and exposed.Smith's POV. I didn’t want to come here.I had been putting it off for months. Every time Stevie-lou brought it up, I changed the topic or acted like my phone rang. She never pushed. She just looked at me with those calm eyes, nodded, and said, "Okay. When you're ready."But the truth was, I wasn’t sure I'd ever be ready.Now I was standing on a patch of grass, next to a headstone with the name Raymond Parker carved into it.1969 - 2025.It was a nice headstone. Clean with black granite with gold lettering. There were fresh flowers by the side. A little wooden frame with a picture of him smiling at what looked like a birthday party.I remember that face. That was the same man who came to my office looking like life had chewed him up and spat him back out. He had looked desperate. He had looked broken. He had stood right in front of my desk, holding his cap in his hand like a man holding out hope. And I turned him away like he was nothing.Stevie-lou was kneeling by the grave. Her han
Stevie-lou's POV. I remember the moment they told me I was finally being discharged. Like waking from a long nightmare but still feeling trapped inside it. My legs shook when I tried to stand, and Smith was right there, steady as ever, catching me before I fell.“You don’t have to be a hero today,” he said softly, brushing my hair back from my face. His eyes were tired, but full of something fierce…like he’d been holding it together for both of us.“I just want to go home,” I whispered. My voice cracked, thick with everything I’d been holding in.He nodded and helped me sit up, then carefully hooked my arm around his shoulder as we walked out of the hospital. The quiet buzz of the city outside felt strange, almost like it didn’t belong to me anymore.The ride back to the penthouse was quiet. Smith didn’t say much, just held my hand on the leather seat. I could feel him watching me, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin, like he was trying to remind me I was real, right there besi
Stevie-lou's POV. Everything hurt.That was the first thing I knew when I opened my eyes. A dull, throbbing pain in my shoulder, like someone had shoved a hot poker through it and decided to leave it there. My head was foggy, my mouth dry, and the light in the room was way too bright. I squinted against it, trying to sit up, but my body protested with every tiny movement.And then I heard him."Easy, baby. Don’t move too much."Smith.His voice cut through the haze, and I turned my head slowly to find him sitting beside my bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, his jaw lined with exhaustion and something deeper...something raw. His hand reached out, brushed a few strands of hair from my face."You’re awake," he breathed, almost like he couldn’t believe it.I blinked at him, my vision sharpening. "Hey..."That one word took all the energy I had. My voice was hoarse, barely there, but it made him smile anyway. And God, that smile. Soft. Ti
Smith's POVThe second his finger twitched, I moved.I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t have the luxury to think. There was no logic, no plan, just raw instinct. My body surged forward before my brain could even register the danger. I lunged at Jeremy, both arms extended, grabbing for the barrel of the gun just as the shot rang out.The sound was deafening...sharp and violent. It tore through the air like an explosion, echoing off the walls and rattling in my skull. It was like a bomb had gone off in a confined space. My ears rang instantly, a high-pitched whine setting in as the immediate aftermath of the blast.Stevie-Lou screamed...a sound so piercing, so full of fear, it cut through everything else.Jeremy fought back, struggling like a man possessed, but I had the element of surprise. He wasn’t expecting me to close the distance so fast. His grip on the gun was sloppy, panicked. His hands trembled, his arms flailed wildly. I latched on tighter, wrapped my hands around his wrist and twis
Stevie-lou's POV.I pulled him closer again, like I couldn’t get enough of his touch, his warmth, his presence. My hands trembled as they roamed over his shoulders, down his back. His lips parted under mine, soft and urgent at the same time, like he’d been starving for this too. I kissed him harder, deeper, as if trying to erase all the distance, the hurt, the time we’d lost.I slid my fingers into his hair, tugging gently, wanting him to know I was here, that I was real...no more walls, no more hiding. I wanted him to see me...the real Stevie-lou, not the lying woman who had betrayed and used him. I reached down, pulling at the hem of my shirt, hoping maybe if I stripped away the last layers of myself, he’d feel like this was all true, all ours.But before I could get the shirt over my head, his hand caught my wrist. Firm but gentle, like he didn’t want to scare me off but had to stop me anyway.“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His eyes were softer than
Stevie-lou's POV.I stared at the door for a long second after it creaked open, like I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing.Smith.Tall, stiff, in that dark coat he always wore when he was working. He looked like he’d come straight from barking orders to a boardroom full of terrified execs. Only now, he was standing in my crappy little doorway, his jaw clenched and his eyes everywhere but on me. Like even being here pissed him off, but not enough to walk away.My hand was still on the doorknob. I didn’t say anything.He didn’t either.Just pushed the door wider and walked in. Like it was his place. Like nothing had changed.Like I hadn’t wrecked him."You changed the locks," he muttered, eyeing the new hardware with a frown.My throat dried up. "Yeah."He didn’t answer. Just kept walking in like he was looking for something to be mad about. His eyes scanned the small, crumbling living room. The faded couch with the sagging cushions. The cracked tile near the kitchen entrance. One