Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
My fingers tighten around hers, and for a second the noise of the restaurant fades until it’s just the two of us.
“You know what I see when I look at you? A woman who walked into a room full of people who intimidate the hell out of her and she had enough gumption to sing anyway. I see someone who’s talented enough to make an entire room go quiet but just doesn’t know it.” My thumb strokes over her knuckles. “And, yeah, I see the woman who’s been stuck living everybody else’s version of her life for too damn long.”
Tears glisten in her eyes.
“You walked in there today when you could’ve easily turned tail and ran,” I continue. “You did something that scared you. That matters.”
Her throat works as she swallows. “I really don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I squeeze her hand. “We’re still celebrating you tonight.”
That pulls a genuine smile from her. It’s small but real. The kind she doesn’t give the cameras. And seeing it feels better than any win I’ve had all season. Better than a hat trick. Better than hearing my name chanted from the ice.
With her hand in mine and hope flickering in her eyes, like she just might believe me, it means everything.
39
Cheyenne
I stare at the man across from me, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Knox McNichols has become my biggest champion. There’s so much emotion swirling inside me, it’s hard to pin down exactly what I feel.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” I tell him, setting my napkin on the table.
“Okay.” He gives me an easy smile. “I’ll order dessert for us.”
My throat constricts. He’s being so amazing. So steady and sure. It makes me want to cry. Whatever version of Knox I’d carried around in my head for all these years, he’s turning out to be so much more than that.
More thoughtful.
More protective.
Just more everything.
“That sounds good.”
The support he’s shown settles deep, even as the nerves from the audition churn low in my stomach.
I just need a minute. A second to breathe.
As I step into the hallway where the restroom is located, the noise of the restaurant fades behind me. By the time I push open the door and slip inside, the silence feels like a relief. Two women stand near the sinks, talking quietly. They glance at me before going back to their conversation, as if they have no idea who I am. Or maybe they just don’t care.
It’s one of the things I love about Chicago.
The anonymity.
The freedom of not always being watched.
I slip into one of the stalls, lock the door, and lean back against the wall. My heart is still racing. The audition keeps looping through my mind—every note, every expression, every second I stood in front of the panel.
I close my eyes and force out a gradual breath. Maybe Knox is right. No matter what happens, I did it. I walked in and sang my heart out. And that’s worth something.
By the time I finish and push open the stall door, I’ve almost managed to calm myself down. I glance up and then freeze when I find Dakota leaning against the counter. For a second, my brain refuses to process his presence, and my stomach drops.
He looks terrible—unshaven with bloodshot eyes. His clothes are wrinkled, as if he’s been wearing them for days. He looks nothing like the polished, camera-ready version of the man I’m used to seeing.
Unstable.
That’s the only word that blares through my head.
He straightens as soon as he sees me, and unease slithers down my spine.
“Cheyenne.”
My mouth dries. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He lets out a quiet laugh that ends on a high-pitched note. “I had to see you.”
Every instinct I have goes on high alert.
“There’s nothing left for us to talk about.” I force out the response calmly, even though my pulse continues to thrum. “What we had is over. You need to make peace with that and move on.”
His stare never deviates from mine as he shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I’ve already tried.”
My gaze slices to the door. There’s no way I can get around him.
Left with no other choice, I straighten my shoulders, not wanting him to sense how frightened I am. “I won’t change my mind.”
“If you’d just give me a chance,” he says, his voice rising as he drags a hand through his mussed hair, “we could work it out.”
“It’s too late for that.”
He pushes away from the counter, taking a quick step toward me. “You don’t mean that.”
Another wave of fear slams into me. “I do, Dakota. We’re over.”
He closes the distance between us. “Why don’t you love me anymore?”
My heart hammers against my ribs, turning painful. The truth is, I’m not sure I ever loved Dakota. Not in the way I thought I did. It’s only after having taken a step back that I understand how wrong he is for me.