Page 33 of Puck Struck (Dirty Puck #3)

"I can. And I will." Logan stands up, and I follow.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're going to delete every photo, every video, every piece of evidence you think you have on Cam.

You're going to get on a plane back to New York and never contact either of us again.

And if you ever…and I mean ev er…come near him or my family again, I will fucking destroy you because I have nothing to lose. "

James stares at us for a long moment. I can practically see smoke pouring out of his ears while his brain works overtime, trying to figure out if he can salvage this somehow. Finally, when he realizes he’s been beaten, a bitter laugh escapes his lips.

"You think this is over? You think you've won?

" He shoots up, the chair legs scraping against the floor.

Quivering fingers straighten his tie. "Fine.

Enjoy this little victory. But you should know, Connor, this won't be the last time someone tries to use your past against you.

There will always be someone who knows what you really are. "

"Maybe," I say, a little shocked by how strong my voice sounds. "But there will also always be people who know who I really am, people who won’t turn their backs on me because of what I’ve done. So fuck you, James.”

James's expression twists with something that looks almost like grief beneath the red-hot rage. "You were supposed to need me. You were supposed to come back."

For just a second, I see past the expensive suit and polished exterior to the broken, obsessive bastard underneath. It doesn't make me feel sorry for him, but it helps me understand why he's been so desperate to drag me back into that world.

"I was never yours, James. I was just trying to survive. There's a difference."

He stares at me for a long minute then turns and stalks out of the place without another word. My eyes follow him, and part of me expects him to turn around, to make one last threat. But he just keeps walking until he disappears into the crowd on the sidewalk.

“When did you find all of that out?” I ask Logan. “You didn’ t tell me.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “My friend did some investigating for us. He shot me a text right before we came in. There wasn’t time to tell you.”

"Is it over?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Logan shuts off the recording app. "Yeah. It's over."

But even as he says it, I can see something troubled in his eyes. Like he knows, just like I do, that victories like this one don’t usually come without someone wanting payback.

We sit quietly for a moment, watching normal people do normal shit around us. They order coffee, type on laptops, and have conversations that don't involve blackmail or threats, or the kind of secrets that keep you up at night, while you wait for everything to fall apart.

I’ve never really known “normal” before.

"How did you know?" I say after a few minutes. "About the background checks and his employment history?"

The corners of Logan's mouth quirk upward.

"I didn't. But Mike does security consulting for some of the bigger corporations in the Bay Area.

I asked him to make a few calls, see what he could find out about James Harmon, most recently of New York.

" He shrugs. "Turns out your ex-client has quite the reputation in certain circles, and those circles extend across the country. Lucky us."

"And the recording? Was all of that true?"

"Every word. Mike helped me set up a digital evidence file this morning. Everything James sent you, everything he said to me, all of it documented and backed up." Logan looks at me seriously and places his hand over mine. "It's really over, Cam. He can't hurt you anymore."

I want to believe him. Fuck, I want to believe him so badly. But there's still a part of me, the scared kid who learned that safety is always temporary, who’s waiting for the other shoe to drop .

Because it always does.

"Hey." Logan squeezes my hand. "You okay?"

"I don't know. I think so?" I blow out a shaky breath. "It doesn't feel real yet."

"It will." His thumb rubs across my knuckles. "Give it time."

We leave the coffee shop together, and for the first time in months, I don't look over my shoulder to see if anyone's following us. The afternoon sun feels warm on my skin, and when Logan slides his hand into mine as we walk to the parking lot, I don't pull away.

"Dinner tonight?" he asks when we get to my car. "My place? Tessa's making her famous lasagna."

I lean against my car door with a deep sigh, studying his face. It actually looks more relaxed than I’ve seen in a while. "Are you sure? About dinner, I mean. It's been a pretty intense day."

"I'm sure." He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his body. "Besides, Ethan would love to see you."

My chest tightens with something that feels dangerously close to hope. "Logan?—"

"Seven o'clock," he says, cutting off whatever I was about to say. Maybe he knew and didn’t want the words to hit air. "Don't be late. Tessa gets pissy when her lasagna gets cold."

He cups my face in his strong hands and kisses me hard, draining me of breath, right there in the parking lot where anyone could see. And I taste hope along with the tang of coffee. When he pulls away, his eyes are soft in a way that makes my heart do a little dance in my chest.

"Seven o'clock," I say.

I watch him walk to his truck, favoring his left shoulder again. The injury he's been hiding is getting worse, and we both know it. But for today, right now, I let myself believe that everything is going to be okay.

That James is really gone.

That Logan and I might actually have a shot at something real.

That the scared kid who sold himself to survive can learn to accept love when it's freely given.

As I drive home, my phone stays silent. No threatening texts, no photos, no reminders of a past I finally feel like I can leave behind.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, the future feels like something worth fighting for, not something to fear.