Page 109 of Crushed Vow

His grin turned cocky. “Don’t need eyes to win. Just rage and muscle memory.”

I rolled my eyes, and he added with surprising softness, “I want to win this year’s championship for you, Charlotte.”

“For me?”

He nodded once. “I want to stand in front of the crowd, trophy in hand, and dedicate it to the woman who owns my soul.”

Something in me fluttered—and I hated that it did. I hated that even now, even after everything, he still had the power to shake me like that.

“You’ll win,” I said. Quietly. Because I knew he would.

His phone rang. He glanced at it, his expression hardening for a moment as he read the screen. Then he slipped it into his pocket.

“I need to take care of something.”

“Okay,” I said, standing with him.

As he turned toward the door, I called after him, “Hey... um... can you get me a Kindle when you’re coming back?”

He paused, confused. “What’s that?”

I smiled faintly. “A device to read books from Amazon.”

He laughed under his breath. “I’ll give you the world if you asked. How many Kindles do you want? Ten? A hundred?”

I almost laughed too. “Just one is fine. I tried ordering it, but... it didn’t work. I think there’s some kind of restriction on my delivery address, or maybe your system blocks outgoing purchases.”

“Got it,” he said. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all.”

His expression turned amused, almost reprimanding. “And the card I gave you? Why haven’t you spent from it? The fact that we’re divorced doesn’t mean you can’t touch my money.”

“I just...” I fumbled. “I don’t know what to buy. I already have access to everything I need.”

He looked at me for a beat, as if trying to read deeper into that. Then simply nodded. “See you soon.”

And he was gone.

I exhaled and sat back down, heart heavy. The silence around me pressed in—thick and reflective.

I laid my head against the headrest, eyes fluttering closed. I tried to focus on the present. On the way his touch hadn’t repulsed me. On the small promises he kept making like he still had the right to build my future.

But the past was loud.

It howled in my mind like a living beast, chewing at the edges of every peaceful moment. Every cruel thing he’d said. Every way he failed me. Every betrayal.

Forgiveness? I didn’t know if I could ever give it. Not truly. Not fully.

And yet—for now—I had to pretend everything was fine.

But the sex... God.

Why the hell was it always him who could make me feel something? Why did he always know how to touch the parts of me no one else could reach?

It wasn’t like after the surgery, back when we were newly married—when he took me from behind just so he wouldn’t have to see my flat, repelling chest.

This time... he saw everything.