Page 14

JETT

The silence over the last few days wasn’t just unsettling - it was suffocating.

Jett felt like he was frowning in the quiet, every minute dragging by, filled with unanswered questions and a heavy lingering hope.

He kept telling himself it was a blessing that he’d been busy, that there were a hundred little details demanding his attention.

Maybe it was a distraction, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

There were contracts to review, flights to coordinate, press releases pending his signature - and the jerseys.

The team needed his number confirmed so they could have everything ready for his grand arrival.

His name would be stitched across the back of a crisp, profesional fabric - proof of everything that he’d worked toward.

That felt right. That felt good… but one of those jerseys he couldn’t just sent by courier.

Karen.

He couldn’t bear the idea of her finding a jersey tucked in a cardboard box with her new surname on the label like she was just some fan.

He wanted to be the one to hand it to her.

He wanted to see the expression on her face when she unfolded it, when she saw his name, his number.

He needed to know if she cared, even a little.

He wanted it to matter to her, because heaven help him…

she was starting to matter to him - more than he was ready to admit.

When he’d first seen her in the bookstore, he’d thought she was beautiful in a quiet, bookish way…

but that had been nothing compared to what he felt now.

The more he got to know her, the more time that he spent with her, the deeper the pull became.

It wasn’t just an attraction - it was magnetic, raw, and all-consuming.

It wasn’t just about her looks, but there was also the sound of her voice, the way she moved, how she smiled.

Everything about her felt like a siren’s call straight to the parts of him he guarded carefully.

His heart.

He wanted to get lost in her scent, in the way her presence softened the room. He wanted to wrap her up in everything delicate, feminine, and pink… because something about that color reminded him of her.

Soft.

Sweet.

Wildly more than expected.

Jett had already ordered a frilly pink apron to be delivered to the condo.

He didn’t know if she would wear it, heck - he didn’t know if she cooked, but he wanted her to have it…

from him. He’d filled an online shopping cart with items he hadn’t checked out yet.

Pink cashmere, soft wool throws, fuzzy scarves - all sorts of things that he imagined her wrapped in during the cold months ahead.

A pink coat, a little muff lined with fur for her hands, a scarf with tiny white pom-poms dancing at the ends…

He wanted to spoil her.

He wanted to lavish her with things that made her smile.

Heck, he wanted her thinking of him …

“Oh mannn…”

He let his head fall back against the seat and groaned aloud, his eyes closing as he muttered under his breath.

“I am seriously ‘ate up’ when it comes to her - and she couldn’t care less about me.”

The words landed like stones in his chest. He could feel the truth of them like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. He was sitting on a plane, bound for the next chapter of his life, but a big part of him didn’t want to go anywhere…

Not yet.

Not without her.

Not without knowing if she’d even notice he was gone.

He kept watching the aisle, staring toward the back like she might just appear. Like maybe… maybe… maybe she’d come running after him, breathless and stubborn, showing up in some grand way, making an entrance.

He could respect that.

Maybe she was already here?

Maybe she’d been waiting, hidden, just out of view to set him on edge - making him sweat it out. He didn’t even realize he was praying until he caught himself whispering beneath his breath. Not for luck, not for wins, but for her… a sign, a text, a call.

Anything.

“Mr. Acton?”

The voice jolted him. He sat up sharply, his heart racing like he’d been caught in some nightmarish dream, running from his demons. A rush of panic flaring in his chest like a fire he couldn’t smother…

“No,” Jett blurted out in a rush to the flight attendant.

This was the third time the woman had stopped by to let him know they were preparing for takeoff - and each time he’d begged for a little more time.

“Ten more minutes - please. I’m not ready to go yet.”

“You have a guest, sir,” the flight attendant said, her voice tight with uncertainty as she wrung her hands together in front of her navy uniform.

Her gaze flicked to the open door then back to him.

“There’s a woman out there claiming to be your wife and asking to board.

I thought you mentioned you were flying alone. Is this incorrect?”

Jett blinked, trying to comprehend the words even though his heart had already dropped to his shoes.

“Apparently so - and I don’t remember saying that,” he replied, his voice hoarse and uneven, cracking with the weight of a very sleepless night and too many unanswered text messages.

He cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance, and tried to summon that calm, collected demeanor he’d mastered when it came to every other part of his life… but not with her.

Not with Karen.

Karen was killing him - slowly, painfully, in that way that only someone who truly knew you could. By waiting. By not calling. By making him feel like an afterthought. And now, by showing up at the very last second, when he’d almost convinced himself to shut the door on ‘hope’.

He should have told the flight attendant ‘no’…

He could have made some sarcastic comment to shield the ache clawing inside of him - but it all crumbled and fell away the moment Karen stepped into view.

She looked like a vision, like some dream from one of his deepest fantasies…

soft, familiar, and beautiful in a way that stole the air from his lungs.

White slacks that hugged her hips, a pale pink blouse tied neatly at her neck with a bow that made his hands twitch, curling into fists just so he didn’t tug at it, wanting to untie it.

That blouse had no right to stir up so many strong feelings inside of him.

But it did.

She did things to him by simply existing.

“Hello,” she said, her voice gentle, almost tentative before she moved past him without hesitation and took a seat as far from him as the tiny plane’s cabin allowed.

It only seated eight, but with her sitting six or eight feet away, it felt like she was an entire world out of reach.

She looked straight ahead like he wasn’t utterly shattered on the inside. “I got stuck in traffic.”

The casualness of it - like they were fine… like the past few days of silence hadn’t happened. It rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He swallowed hard, trying to match her light tone even though he could barely think straight.

“Did you park the Kia - and do I need to get a transport to pick it up?” he asked, gripping the edge of his tablet case a little too tightly.

His words felt stiff, mechanical. Like they were all he had to keep from blurting out the truth: I’ve missed you.

I’m angry you ignored me. I’m confused. I’m scared we are not going to be okay…

Karen shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and fumbling awkwardly for the seatbelt. “I took your advice and got rid of it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers worked at the clasp with growing frustration, her brow furrowing. “Am I missing something with this thing?”

He was already unbuckling, moving toward her before he thought it through, stepping across the narrow aisle as the plane’s door sealed behind them with a hiss.

The cabin quieted around them as the engines powered up, and the air grew heavy with anticipation.

Reaching down, he caught the loose ends of the belt and clicked it securely into place with a muted snap.

It was an easy fix.

But nothing about this felt easy between them.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and impossibly dark… and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Her expression was so open, so raw, it nearly knocked him off balance.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The words hit him harder than he expected. I’m sorry… but for what, exactly? For the silence? For not calling? For walking away? Or just because you needed help with the belt? In those seconds, his eyes holding hers, he realized he didn’t care really.

She was here.

She was here, ready to start a life in Quebec - with him.

Nothing else mattered.

“It’s no biggie,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, trying to keep his composure. “Just try to relax for the flight.”

“I will.”

Her voice was small, but it carried across the space between them.

It echoed in the cabin, reverberating through him.

He lingered there, half-hoping she’d say something more…

that she would explain about the silence, the ignored text messages.

Maybe that she would reach for him, or give him a look.

But as she turned her eyes forward again, her hands were clenched in her lap, and he took the hint.

The flight attendant reappeared, announcing their imminent takeoff, and Jett stepped back toward his seat.

He could have sat closer to Karen. He sure wanted to.

But she wasn’t giving him much. No signals…

no olive branch. Just a bit of small talk, silence, ignoring the smoke between them - which, in his book, meant something was on fire.

A big-ol’-forest fire like a wall of flames between them.

She was over there.

He was over here.

So be it…