All Chapters of The Holidate Pact: Chapter 31 - Chapter 36

SLOANEI went back to Jackson's apartment at three. Told myself I was being supportive. Mature. The kind of person who celebrates other people's dreams.I was lying.My hands shook on the steering wheel the whole drive. I parked. Sat in my car for five minutes. Breathed.His building looked the same. Gray stone. Green awning. The coffee shop on the corner where we'd had breakfast once.Everything normal. Everything different.I knocked. He opened immediately. Like he'd been waiting by the door."Hey.""Hey."We stood there. The hallway smelled like someone's dinner. Garlic and onions. My stomach turned."Come in."His apartment was clean. Too clean. Like he'd stress-cleaned while waiting.The contract sat on the coffee table. White pages. Black ink. My competition.I didn't sit. "Tell me everything."He did. The sponsor. The money. Six months of travel. Texas first. Then Arizona, Florida, California. Tournament after tournament. Training between. No breaks. No downtime."It's only six

SLOANEI stood in the bathroom, staring at my phone.The pitch started in twenty minutes. The biggest of my career. Six months of work. My portfolio spread across the conference table. Client flying in from New York.And Jackson's text glowed on my screen.JACKSON: So sorry. Mitchell scheduled emergency training session. You'll crush it. Call me after.The message came in twenty minutes ago. While I was running through my presentation one last time.Emergency training session.On a Thursday morning.The morning he'd known about for three weeks.My hands shook. I gripped the phone tighter.The bathroom door opened. Heels clicked on tile."Sloane?" Maya's voice. "You in here?""Yeah.""You okay? Client just arrived."I unlocked the bathroom. Stepped out. Maya took one look at my face."What happened?""Jackson's not coming."Her expression hardened. "Why not?""Training. Emergency session.""On pitch day.""He forgot. Or Mitchell scheduled it. I don't know."Maya's jaw clenched. "Is it

JACKSONMy apartment looked like a gym exploded. Resistance bands draped over the couch. Weights stacked by the TV. Ice packs melting in the sink. Meal prep containers covering every surface.I'd been living like I was 22 again. Training 12 hours a day. Protein shakes for breakfast. Golf simulator until my hands blistered. Physical therapy. Strength training. Sleep. Repeat.Singular focus. That's what Mitchell said I needed.No distractions.Sloane was coming at 2. I looked at the clock. 1:30. Looked at my apartment. Swore.I threw resistance bands into the closet. Stacked weights in the corner. Shoved meal prep into the fridge. The place still looked like a disaster but at least you could see the furniture.Shower next. Hot water on sore muscles. My shoulder still ached but it was functional. Getting stronger every day.I stared at myself in the mirror after. Three weeks of this training had carved me lean. Hollow under the eyes. My face looked sharper. Harder.Like someone I didn't