Fated Shot

Chapter 15

Mia

You know that moment when you first wake up and you're clinging to the warmth of your bed, still trying to make sense of the world? Well, I’m having one of those moments.

My thoughts drift back to the craziest dream. I slept with Jack Brody, and I’m reliving every delicious detail, squirming at the thought of him inside me. Clenching my thighs together, I feel the roughness of my jeans between my legs.

Confusion seeps into my spectacularly vivid imagination and slowly tugs me closer to reality. Feeling a heavy weight on my waist, I force an eye open. A squeak slips out when I spot the tousled hair, chiseled face resting perfectly on the pillow, and striking navy blue eyes watching me.

“Morning,” Jack says as his lips curl into a ridiculously beautiful smile.

“H-hi,” I let out, slowly taking in my surroundings. I’m fully clothed in his bed, and the night comes flying back to me in an instant. It wasn’t a dream. A flutter of excitement erupts in my stomach at the realization that I was in his arms last night as he gave me the most intense orgasm of my entire life, right where I’m lying.

How did we get into bed? Last I remember, the contestants were making party items, and I swear I just closed my eyes for a second .

Shame floods my system as I cover my face in my hands. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“About an hour after the pizza,” he says, amused.

“And you put me to bed,” I say as he nods.

“Well, in my defense, I did try to wake you, to which I’m pretty sure you said your legs weren’t working,” he chuckles as my whole body burns with embarrassment. I don’t bother asking more questions, but he continues, “So I had no choice but to carry you up here.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I-I sleep like a rock, the moment I’m out it takes a lot to wake me. My parents wanted to get me studied when I was little, waking me for school was a mission and—”

I stop, realizing I’m rambling in this guy’s bed with morning breath and all, looking a mess while he just stares at me, gorgeous as ever. This cannot be happening right now.

“You snore too,” he adds, failing to conceal his smirk as he watches me derail into embarrassed shambles.

I bury my face in my hands once more. “Okay, well, it’s been a pleasure knowing you. I’ll just be… anywhere but here,” I say, sitting up.

He laughs a deep, hearty chuckle that warms me in an instant. “It was cute, like my own little sound machine,” he says, pulling my hands away from my face. It should really be illegal for him to look this perfect in the morning.

“I love it when you blush.” He smiles, stroking my heated cheek with one hand. I can't wrap my head around how this is even real; I have no idea how I ended up here. His kind gaze is giving me butterflies. It feels... nice. Like, really nice.

“I really do need to go though. I need to check on Bean and I’m supposed to be meeting—” My brain thankfully catches myself before I continue, “—someone for coffee.”

“Bean?” he asks, looking up amused .

“My cat.”

“Ah, the cute fluffball from your phone.”

“Hah, yeah. I rescued him when he was just a baby, he looked just like a little coffee bean.”

“Can’t wait to meet him,” he adds assuredly.

My heart flutters instantly. That means he wants to see me again, right? Breathe, Mia .

I glance down, noticing I’m still wearing his sweatshirt. I’m willing myself to take it off, but the warmth of it envelops me as I settle into the smell of him. It’s comforting and calming and I’m not ready to part with that feeling.

He notices. “Why don’t you hold onto it for me, looks better on you anyway.”

I smile as I turn, looking for my phone, spotting it on the nightstand, next to a full glass of water. I seriously crashed hard, I don’t think I woke up a single time throughout the night. Jack’s bed, like everything else about him, was life-changing. I grab my phone as I stand up, sliding it into my pocket.

“Wait, Mia,” he lets out a bit of concern in his voice. “Can we, uh?” He clears his throat. “Can I call you?”

I turn back to him, a vulnerability in his eyes that makes my heart melt. I contemplate snuggling into his arms and shutting out the rest of the world, but logic takes control, and I settle for a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I wander down the stairs, grab my purse, and let myself out. It’s still early. I flip off my 7:30 am alarm before it wakes the entire corridor. But a moment later, the Jack Brody bliss bubble pops as my phone pings.

Sebastian Brown: Be there in 45

Ugh . I push down all the emotions circling around me. I have almost an hour before I have to deal with that. No reason to sit in dread. Walking into my apartment, I find Bean curled in a circle on my pillow in my room.

“I’m sorry, bubs,” I let out, snuggling next to him. I slowly let his soft purrs calm my nervous system. “I missed you last night, did you have a good sleepies?”

A pleasant “brrr” comes out as Bean slowly blinks at me and closes his eyes again. Unbothered as usual. Oh, to be a cat.

I take off the sweatshirt, immediately feeling chilled without it, as I fold it carefully and set it on my bed. I throw my shirt, bra, jeans and still-soaked panties in my hamper. As if dressing comfortably will have any impact on the uncomfortable situation I’m willingly walking into, I settle for black leggings, a sports bra and my green oversized pullover.

There’s still enough time for me to wash my face, brush my teeth, and sink down onto my bed, counting down the minutes like I’m waiting for a jail sentence.

You’re strong, Mia. Be strong.

***

As soon as I walk into Java, Seb spots me, motioning for me to join him at the tiny table in the back. I slowly make my way over, noticing his grin as he looks me up and down. It’s weird how so much can change in such a short amount of time. He’s always looked at me like that, it’s nothing out of the ordinary, but now under his gaze, I want nothing more than to cover myself and walk the other way.

“I got you a coffee. An iced vanilla latte, your favorite,” he says with a flashy smirk. He’s looking like he’s waiting to be praised .

“Oh, thanks,” I mutter as I take the seat across from him. I’m always cautious around him, pushing down my own feelings to stay neutral. It’s like my awareness spikes—I’m on edge, careful that my words don’t provoke an extreme reaction I just can’t handle right now. But it irks me as I struggle to maintain my composure. Three years together, and I’ve never once ordered an iced latte.

He’s smiling happily at me as I try to push down my irritation and focus on the task at hand.

“You look good, baby.”

Ugh. The word draws a chill down my spine. My nerves make way for the aggravation growing in my stomach, and I’m almost grateful for the new emotion.

“Please don’t call me that,” I ask as politely as I can muster.

All he does in response is give an obnoxious laugh, leaning forward to rest his hand on mine. I carefully pull back and continue. “Seb, I don’t have a lot of time. You said you wanted to apologize?” My tone is a lot less pleasant than he’s used to, but I’m no longer someone he’s used to, and my patience is wavering.

There’s surprise in his eyes, but he forces it away as he plasters on a disingenuous smile.

“I just wanted to see you before I go back to New York. It was really nice being at the game with you, just like old times.”

The old times I remember would be him trying to get tickets to every home game, bringing friends, getting drunk, and living for every moment the cameras would pan to him. Even with my mom sitting between us last night, it just wasn’t enough space from him and his ego. All he went on about was how excited he was for season tickets, hanging out with Mom and Dad, and all the events we’d go to together once he moves.

The world revolves around him, and keeping up appearances seems to be his primary goal in life. It’s like he thinks nothing has changed. I just grinned and bore it, but I’m done .

“I can’t do the friends thing anymore, Seb. I want a clean break.”

It comes out a little shaky as I brace for his inevitable response, my body tensing in anticipation. I can’t believe I ever thought it was normal to feel this way.

He brushes off my words with another smirk, taking a slow sip of his coffee. His eyes are warning me, but his lack of retort gives me the added confidence I need. Less hesitation this time, I add, “I’m here as a courtesy to you because we haven’t sat down and talked about what happened. But I’m not interested in talking about anything else.”

His smile wavers as he narrows his eyes at me. In a second, though, he looks around the coffee shop and regains his fake, pleasant demeanor. Thank gosh for public spaces.

“Fine, I’m sorry .” The way he draws out the word lands like sour milk.

“That’s it?” I say, taking a frustrated breath before repositioning myself in my seat.

“Look, we were together for a long time and I got scared, okay?” There’s an emptiness to his words. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t want to hear anything but the truth,” I add, surprising myself. I don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from, but I’m freaking grateful it’s appearing. I want answers for myself. I gave him everything, stressed every day about being the girl he wanted me to be—the girl he said he deserved. He always made me feel so small; it was all I ever knew. It didn’t hit me until I left, got out of that headspace, and realized just how messed up everything had been.

I guess I did a lot more growing over the summer than I’d thought. I didn’t want to hear apologies before, and I wasn’t ready to have this conversation. I don’t even know if I’m ready now, but I need to close this chapter for good, and this is the first step .

“I got it all out of my system, and I’m ready to settle,” he says coldly.

“Settle,” I repeat in mumbling disbelief. There’s silence as I try to process his words. I stare blankly at him, so he continues.

“I just needed to fuck around a bit, ya know? Test the waters, get a little crazy.” He laughs like he’s reliving memories of his glory days. When I don’t break my glare, he gets the hint.

“And I’m ready now,” he says, changing to a more serious tone. Everything with him is so disingenuous. His mood can shift mid-sentence, every action is exaggerated and performative, and he very rarely lets his mask slip in public. I’m just so tired of it. I stay blinking at him through the rage that is now threatening to break out.

“Ready for what ?”

“Well, I wanted to tell you at the barbecue, but clearly, you were in the middle of a tantrum, which I forgive you for, by the way. I should have told you I was coming, but—”

“You shouldn’t have come at all,” I interrupt him. The words slip out before I can hold them back, and I feel the instant drop in my gut as I wait for him to snap. He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at my pushback, it’s a warning look that initiates my fight or flight.

“I’m going to transfer to Toronto.” He’s talking down to me like he’s telling a toddler to share his toys at recess. “We can find a place together, and then we should get married.”

It takes everything in me not to spit out my watered-down excuse for a latte. I can’t even attempt to muster a response through my disbelief. What on God’s green earth would compel him to think any part of this would be a good idea?

“We can pick out the ring together when I’m back for the New York game,” he continues. Is this guy serious?

Finally, my brain starts to communicate with my body as my mouth gapes open, and I shake my head. “No. ”

“I said I was sorry, baby, what more do you want me to do?” Not sleep with some girl in my bed, for starters, douche canoe.

“Stop calling me that.” My voice shakes through the rage bubbling in my system. The delusion of this man, it’s almost impossible for me to wrap my head around. We have barely talked in weeks, aside from a few desperate plea texts, which I mostly handled in a few word responses. Now, he shows up out of the blue, expecting me to come leaping back into his arms?

I stand up, grabbing my coffee.

“This was a mistake, I’m leaving.” I start marching toward the door.

“You’re just going to walk out?” He quips back angrily, voice booming before peering around the room again and continuing with a lower but poisonous warning tone. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

I feel the familiar sweat forming on my palms as I become hyper-aware of my surroundings. I’m starting to feel empty, becoming my hollow shell of self-preservation. No, Mia . I need to leave. I don’t have to stay. I can leave.

“I’m leaving,” I say again as I walk straight out the door. Something I never would have been able to do a few months ago. No more tip-toeing around his fragile ego.

He follows me out, though, hand grasping my arm much tighter than necessary. With a crazed look in his eye, he stares down at me. “Are you fucking someone?”

The words sting and a fire erupts throughout my body. I’m shaking at this point, and through fear and fury, I hiss, “Goodbye, Sebastian.”