Page 22

Magnolia Steel

My iPad buzzes on the kitchen island as I’m scooping the last of the cookie dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet, music humming through the speakers, the scent of vanilla floating in the air.

Incoming FaceTime: Violet.

Her contact photo is now one from a girls’ trip—Violet’s hair is a mess from the beach and she looks like sun-kissed sin in a bikini and oversized sunglasses. She’s mid-laugh, all teeth and chaos. Untamed. Unbothered. Unapologetically Violet.

I swapped the photo out after realizing the old one—her flipping off the camera—while accurate, might not give the best first impression if Malie happens to see it.

I press Accept , still holding the spoon, ready to clean the bowl and sample the dough.

To hell with salmonella. Some things are worth the risk.

Her face fills the screen, glowing in soft light, her hair in a high bun, golden hoop earrings catching the sun.

She gives me a mock-serious expression. “You better be sitting down.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Get somewhere and sit down. Now.”

“Hold on. My cookies need to go into the oven first.”

I slide the baking sheet into the oven, shut the door with a soft clang, and set the timer.

I lean one elbow on the counter, facing the screen again. “You better be calling to tell me you’re moving to Sydney.”

She grins. “Actually… I kind of am.”

My jaw drops. “Shut up.”

“Well… not moving exactly. I think it’s something better.”

She pauses—letting the moment build. Letting me squirm.

So Violet.

My heart kicks up, impatient. “Vi, if you don’t spit it out in the next five seconds, I swear I will launch myself through this screen and choke the shit out of you.”

Her grin breaks wide, eyes dancing. “Gabby’s giving me a six-month work assignment in Sydney. All expenses paid.”

I gasp, and she nods. And without saying a word, we both shoot up at the same time.

She’s in her apartment. I’m in my kitchen. But that doesn’t stop either of us from breaking into the dance—our ridiculous, arms-flailing, hip-popping happy dance we’ve been doing since college anytime something good happens.

I nearly knock over a bar stool. She’s cackling on her end, spinning in a circle, both hands waving above her head.

I shriek––full-on, no-apologies––shriek. “This is the best news I’ve heard all year. You’re coming to Sydney. For real. Oh my God, we’re going to be in the same damn city again! Elias is going to?—”

She cuts in. “It’s thanks to Alex.”

I freeze. “Wait—what?”

Her expression shifts—still glowing but softer now.

“Gabby shot me down when I asked. Timing, budget, couldn’t do without her head of marketing, whatever.

I was going to tell you next time we spoke.

But in the meantime, Alex called her and pulled some strings.

He told her she owed him and she listened. ”

I lower myself onto a stool. “Alex called Gabby?”

Violet nods. “She told me Alex was the only reason she was doing this. She couldn’t say no to him after what he did for Soul Sync Australia.”

“I can’t believe it.” I blink at the screen, trying to keep up. “He never said a word to me.”

“Probably because he isn’t a person who’s interested in glory. Or maybe he didn’t want to get your hopes up in case Gabby said no.”

Alex isn’t a man who chases praise. He’s the type of man who moves mountains to ensure the people he loves get to stand in the light.

I shake my head, overwhelmed, and so in love I could cry.

Violet leans forward, elbows resting on the counter.

“Let’s be real—I’d have paid out of pocket to make this move work.

But since Gabby’s covering it all, I’ve got six months in Sydney on her tab to see if things with Elias are more than a fling.

To test whether this life is worth it—without burning everything down for the sake of trying. ”

I press my fingers to my lips, tears already gathering behind my eyes.

He did this for her, for Elias, for me. And didn’t ask for a damn thing in return.

My throat tightens.

I look at her—the woman who’s been my other half since college, the woman who’s seen me through hell and back—and I know this is the start of something new. Something good.

“You’re coming, Vi.”

“I’m coming, Mags.”

Tears sting my eyes.

“I love you.” My voice wobbles with joy.

She smiles. “Love you more.”

We blow each other kisses before she ends the call, her image freezing for a beat before the screen goes dark.

And I sit there, heart thudding and soul full.

Then I get up and go find my man.

I move on instinct. It’s a floaty rush that only comes when joy meets awe—when someone you love does something behind your back and it makes you love them more.

I hear the low thump of music and the rhythmic clink of metal—weights being lifted, dropped, lifted again.

I push the gym door open, and there he is.

Alex is flat on his back beneath the bar, knees bent, feet planted, lifting with that slow, controlled precision that makes every muscle in his arms and chest stand out. The barbell glints with weight plates on either end, heavy enough to buckle a lesser man. But not him.

His bare chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the overhead lights, the ridges of his abs rising and falling with each breath. His jaw clenches, eyes locked on the ceiling—focused, grounded, in control. Beautiful in that brutal, understated way he doesn’t even try to be.

I stand there for a moment, watching him in silence.

God. This man.

He gave Violet a new chapter. He gave Elias a shot at forever. And he gave me something I’ve been missing. My best friend. A sister, not by blood. An anchor.

Without asking for anything in return.

My throat thickens again.

“Put the weights down.”

He freezes mid-rep, glancing toward me. The second he sees my face, he racks the bar in one swift motion and sits up fast, swiping sweat off his brow.

“What’s wrong, babe?” His voice is alert, immediate. Protective.

I cross the floor toward him. Slow. Barefoot. Steady.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, stepping between his knees. “Everything’s so right.”

I climb into his lap without warning, straddling him. My hands press to his sweat-slicked shoulders. My dress slides up my thighs as I settle against him, heartbeat pounding against his chest.

His hands grip my hips, strong and warm.

“Okay…” he says, brow cocking, lips curving. “Not that I’m complaining, but what do I owe this moment to?”

I kiss him once—soft and sure—then lean back far enough to look into his face.

“I talked to Violet.”

And there it is—that flicker. That subtle pull at the corner of his mouth. He knows what’s coming but still doesn’t tell me what he’s done.

“You didn’t tell me you called Gabby.”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t about me.”

I blink, breath catching.

“I wasn’t looking for praise. I only want to make you happy. And if there was something I could do to give that to you—to give it to her, and Elias too—then I wanted to do it.”

Something splinters inside me in the best way.

I lean in, pressing my forehead to his, fingers weaving into his damp hair. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

His hands slide beneath my dress, pulling me tighter against him.

“I love you, Alex.”

“I love you more,” he says, voice low and gruff.

Then we stop talking. Because some gratitude needs no words.

His hands flex against my thighs, strong and sure, and I can feel it—the tension pulled tight between us. Not urgent. Not frantic. Just full of love and everything he gives me without asking for a single thing in return.

I tilt his chin toward me and kiss him again—slower this time. Open-mouthed. Worshipful. My fingers slip through his damp hair as I move over him, the weight of my body pressing close, my dress riding higher.

He groans into my mouth, hands sliding up my thighs under the hem of the dress, thumbs tracing the soft, sensitive skin of my butt cheeks.

“You sure?” he says, voice rough with restraint. “Right here… this way?”

I nod, breath catching. “Just like this. I’m sure.”

His grip tightens. One smooth shift of his hips and I feel him ready beneath those athletic shorts, pressed hard against me through the whisper-thin cotton of my panties.

He hooks a finger into the crotch of my panties, tugging them aside. I reach between us, pushing the band of his shorts down just far enough, and he slides into me. I gasp as he rocks up into me, the friction sparking low and hot.

Deep. Full. Right.

A slow exhale leaves both of us at once.

My body wraps over his and I move, slow and purposeful, setting the rhythm with the roll of my hips.

Every movement is deliberate, a silent vow poured from flesh to flesh.

I take him deeper, over and over, driving both of us to the edge with nothing but the strength of wanting and the grace of knowing it’s safe to give in.

I press kisses to his jaw, his throat, his shoulder. He moves beneath me with those controlled, powerful thrusts—each one steady, claiming, anchored in love and everything he’s too humble to say out loud.

We don’t rush.

And when I come, it’s soft and intense all at once—my body arching into his, every nerve alight. His name falls from my lips in a whisper.

He follows moments later, holding me so tightly I can feel his heartbeat in mine.

Afterward, I collapse against him, forehead to forehead, both of us now slick with sweat and breathless, tangled on the bench.

He strokes a hand down my spine. “You okay?”

I nod, eyes closed, heart still thudding. “Better than okay.”

Silence stretches between us, peaceful and whole.

“I don’t need recognition,” he says after a beat, voice quiet against the top of my head. “Just this. You. Happy.”

I press my lips to his chest, right over his heart.

“Then you’ve got it.”

His arms tighten around me, one hand brushing slow and lazy down my back. My dress is hitched high on my thighs, and his shorts are a mess. Neither of us moves to fix a thing.

I tilt my head, trailing soft kisses across his shoulder. The slope of his neck. Back to his mouth.

“You give me everything. Even when I don’t ask.”

He lifts a hand, brushing damp hair off my forehead. His eyes—those warm, dark eyes—don’t look away for a second. “You deserve everything.”

God. This man.

We stay that way, tangled and quiet, breathing the same air, hearts still syncing from the high of it.

And then?—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

My eyes fly open.

“Oh shit. The cookies!”