I wake from my nap, feeling a heavy weight in my chest. The events of the previous day still linger in my mind, and as I reach for my phone, I know I have to face the aftermath. Opening a news app, I search for the latest articles, hoping against hope that they haven't tarnished my name beyond recognition.

But as I scroll through the headlines, my heart sinks further with each passing moment. The articles are filled with sensationalism, exaggerations, and outright lies. They focus solely on Jason, referring to him as the "Hockey's biggest player," while I'm reduced to a mere footnote, labelled as his "latest conquest."

I guess that's not too bad, it could be worse.

In the hours that follow, I witness the true aftermath of their intrusion. The articles that grace the pages of tabloids and online platforms barely acknowledge my name, reducing me to a mere accessory in Jason's life.

I read the article header again,

'Has 'The Challengers' best player - on and off the ice found his island Princess?'

My own face stares back at me, fresh off the plane we'd flown back on, but it was like I couldn't see, my eyes dissociated to the space around me. Another shows me through one of the windows before I'd shut the blinds.

The photos leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

My identity, my privacy, all stripped away and replaced by the false narratives spun by their pens and cameras.

As the media machine churns, stories emerge that twist reality into sensational fiction. Rumours spread, portraying me as an obsessed fan, a manipulative schemer who orchestrated our entrapment on the island.

I click on another one, my own curiosity my worst trait at this moment.

But with each click, my heart sinks further. The articles, the headlines, they all paint a picture of me that bears no resemblance to the truth.

They paint me as a gold digger, motivated solely by the allure of fame and wealth, tarnishing my reputation.

Siting a close source.

I just want to be left alone.

I collapse onto the couch from exhaustion even if I had just woken up, closing my eyes against the ache beginning to pound behind my eyes.

I don't have anything else to do beside sleep.

Groaning, I throw a hand over them and force myself to rest, hoping when I wake the zoo outside my house will finally be gone. Maybe I'll wake up and this whole thing would've been just a dream.

Forcing my mind to shut off, I slip into slumber.

The cheers echo around the hall, his name falling from people's lips like a prayer but his eyes are only on mine.

"Jason!"

"Jason!"

Giddy delight fills me as I watch the man of the hour saunter through the wedding party towards me, a wicked gleam in those eyes of his.

He smirks when he sees he's captured my attention and all I want to do is know how his lips taste. My eyes fall down his tux covered chest and my stomach tightens.

Scratch that, I want to know how all of him tastes. It had been ten years since the first time . . .

I stop my eyes from venturing further and bring them back up to Jason's.

It's a wedding, surely a woman can have a little fun at a wedding?

I clutch the bouquet tighter as the MC's voice echoes around me,

"Now for the garter catcher to put the garter on our bouquet catcher!"

With a start, I realise that's me and soon I'm surrounded by the other women of the party, being dragged to the middle of the empty dance floor.

Anticipation curls within me and I let them guide me to a chair placed in the middle of floor. They sit me in it, letting me keep the bouquet that has become the only thing to keep my dignity intact.

In fact, I think if I didn't have these flowers in hand right now I would drag Jason far, far away from these spectators and their growing excitement and find our own little corner when I could have my way with him.

I tighten my grip on the stems as he crowds me in, the rest of the wedding party becoming a blur of nothingness

Jasons signature smirk is aimed at me and I roll my eyes, if not just to cut him down a bit.

It doesn't work. The insufferable man only grins wider and I know, he knows what he does to me.

With a devilish wink, he falls to his knees in front of me and my brows shoot up, my core tightening and my thoughts turning dirty instantly.

Lifting a hand he twirls the garter around his finger before letting it fall to my lap - hand and garter.

The MC says something but I hear nothing as I watch Jason's hands fall to the hem of my dress, disappearing under it.

I faintly feel his knuckle skimming up my bare calves, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he moves up, slowly travelling upwards.

He skims my knees, lingering there, the folds of my dress disguising his movements and I feel his thumb trace a pattern against my skin.

My breath hitches and he's moving again, higher and higher.

For a second I forget where we are until I feel the elastic of the garter tighten at my upper thigh, his fingers hooked around it like he wants to drag it off and start over, again and again and again.

I look into his eyes, finding the same fire burning up inside me smouldering in his gaze.

I block out the rest of the world and stand from the chair, my legs wobbly.

Jason stands too, hands moving to the small of my back to steady me and he says something but I don't hear it as the chair is removed and the dance floor fills up once more.

Turning to him, I open my mouth.

"I have a room upstairs."

"Funny so do I." He runs a hand through his messy locks, the act lazy but causing my stomach to clench more, anticipation filling me.

I roll my eyes at his cheeky response, finding myself steady again and step back from him.

"I'm going there now, if you want to join me, you can."

I don't wait for his reply before walking from the dance floor, but I feel him follow and I smile to myself before leading him away.

I blink my eyes open, feeling like it was only minutes ago I'd forced them shut but when the sound comes again I groan, twisting in bed with a raging headache.

The soft sound of voices drifts up from downstairs. For a moment, I lie there, disoriented, blinking against the late-afternoon light filtering through the blinds. My heart skips as I remember the swarm of reporters still camped outside my house. My stomach tightens with the thought of one of them somehow slipping inside, but then I realize the voices are familiar—comforting, even.

I swing my legs off the bed, standing slowly and stretching out the stiffness from my nap. It feels like ages since I've had a moment to actually relax. But now, with the noise pulling me downstairs, I push myself to move, padding quietly down the hall and toward the stairs.

As I make my way down, I catch a glimpse of Rose and Aster sitting together on the couch, leaning in close as they chat. They both look up as I step into the room, their faces lighting up with gentle smiles. Relief sweeps over me—just Aster and Rose, no prying eyes or invasive questions.

"Hi," I say, trying to sound casual, even though I can tell by their expressions that they've probably been talking about me - I mean I can't blame them. I did just get found on a stranded island.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Rose teases, patting the seat beside her. "How're you feeling?"

I sink down between them, suddenly grateful just to have them here, even if I know where this conversation is heading.

I lay my head on Asters shoulder, and she lays her on top of mine. "Matt's just gone to get food. Everything in your fridge was expired so we threw it out."

I huff, "I'm not ready to hear his lecture."

Aster laughs softly, running her hands over my hair.

"So..." Aster's voice is soft but pointed, and I can feel her eyes studying me closely. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" She glances at Rose, and they share a look that's hard to miss—one filled with curiosity and a touch of worry.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling my cheeks warm. They've both been waiting for me to open up, and a part of me wants to keep it all locked away. But another part of me is just... tired. Tired of the secrets and the weight of it all pressing down on me.

After a moment of silence, I finally speak, my voice barely above a whisper. "There's... something I haven't told you guys." I pause, swallowing against the sudden tightness in my throat. "The night of the wedding, Jason and I... we slept together."

Aster's eyebrows shoot up, but she quickly masks her reaction, leaning forward to listen intently. Rose gives a quiet nod, her face softening with understanding. This was information she'd already figured out.

"It wasn't... the first time," I admit, feeling a pang of old, buried shame rise to the surface. "We actually... we actually hooked up once in high school, after this party." My gaze drops to my lap, my hands twisting together. "I thought—"

Just then, the back door opens with a creak.

Matt steps inside, carrying a few bags of groceries and a paper bag with the McDonald's logo. Relief fills his face as he spots me, and he quickly drops everything onto the kitchen island before walking over, his arms already outstretched.

"Arden," he says, his voice a mix of exasperation and relief. He pulls me into a tight hug, one that feels a little too rough but comforting all the same. "What were you thinking, just disappearing like that? You have any idea how worried we've been?"

I manage a small smile, patting his back awkwardly. "I'm fine, Matt. Really. I just... went on a date that didn't exactly go to plan."

He pulls back, his eyes scanning my face, then my arms, as if checking for injuries. "Yeah, well, next time, how about you let us know so we don't all lose our minds over here? We had no idea where you were. Days Arden, for days we had no idea until that boy told us." He shakes his head, almost glaring at me. "A party boat? In a storm? Are you stupid?"

Aster clears her throat trying to get Matt's attention, but my brother is too distracted.

"If Jason hadn't gone with you, you would've been alone out there!"

Aster and Rose exchange glances, a hint of amusement in their eyes, but they stay quiet, giving us a moment. I can tell they're itching to continue our conversation, but with Matt here now, any chance of diving back into that has gone out the window.

"But he was." I say softly, "I wasn't alone, Jason and I, we-" I cut off, having no idea what to even say, looking towards Aster and Rose for assistance.

"Is that McDonald's?" Rose asks, glancing at the bag on the counter. Her phone buzzes on the counter and she reaches for it, her eyes moving to mine quickly before she types something and sets it back down.

"Yeah," Matt grunts, moving back toward the kitchen to unpack the food. "There wasn't much around, and I didn't want to leave you all waiting too long." He pulls out a few burgers and fries, setting them on the counter.

We gather around the kitchen island, unwrapping burgers and picking at the fries. The scent of fast food fills the air, and it's strangely comforting, even if it's not the most nutritious dinner. As we eat, Matt keeps glancing over at me, as if trying to gauge how I'm really doing.

Just as we're finishing up, there's a sharp knock on the back door of my house. I tense up, half-expecting another reporter or maybe some overzealous fan, but Matt looks more concerned than anything, standing up to answer it.

Matt pulls the door open, and for a second, he freezes, staring in surprise. "Jason?" he says, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

"Matt?" Jason sounds equally taken aback, his gaze flicking past him to find me standing in the kitchen. His eyes soften as they settle on me, something unspoken passing between us.

Matt pulls Jason into a man-hug that makes Jason look slightly uncomfortable, but he goes along with it anyway. When they pull apart, Matt gives Jason a once-over, looking for any sign of injury just like he did me. "You okay, man? What on earth were you two thinking?"

I can see Jason's jaw tighten slightly, a flicker of frustration in his eyes, but before he can answer, Rose and Aster swoop in.

"Matt," Aster says, grabbing his arm. "Let's give them time to talk, yeah?" She looks to me, "We'll come back later."

Matt looks between us, clearly confused. "Give them a minute? To talk about what? They've just spent three weeks together."

Aster sighs, tugging at his sleeve. "Matt, come on. Let's go."

Rose raises her eyebrows at him, shooting him a knowing look. "Just... trust us. They need to talk."

He opens his mouth to protest, but Aster pulls him firmly toward the back door, leaving my house in silence and me standing across from a man I'm unsure how to speak to anymore.

Jason's eyes find mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches, filled with everything we've been holding back.

He's shaved, and he smells divine, a fresh scent of soap and something that's uniquely him. The sight of him in my kitchen, after everything, sends a strange mixture of warmth and panic through me.

I can't do this.

"How'd you know to use the back door?" I say quietly, unsure of what exactly to say to him. Everything feels different now. Everything is different now.

"Tobias text Rose that I was on my way, she told him, and he told me." He mutters.

He runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words and memories of a sweltering beach, too many confessions, and a love I'm terrified of admitting.

"What are you doing here?" I murmur, a shaky edge creeping into my voice.

"I wanted to check on you," he says, his tone casual, but there's an intensity behind his eyes that makes my stomach twist.

I don't say anything for a second. Not sure what I'm feeling right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, his gaze steady, searching.

I want to tell him yes, that I'm fine, that everything's okay. But the words don't come, because deep down, I know they wouldn't be true. I nod, but it feels hollow, and I can see that he doesn't believe it.

"Arden," he says, stepping closer, his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to pretend with me. I'm here. I just want to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine." I mutter, staring around my house. It all feels so foreign now. "You didn't have to come."

He steps forward, like he's about to fold me into his arms but stops himself, stepping back instead and my heart cracks.

I cross my arms defensively, pushing some distance between us. He glances down at my arms, and I can see the recognition flicker across his face—an all too familiar look of concern and disappointment.

"You're doing it again," he says quietly, his voice low and steady.

"Doing what?" I retort, the irritation bubbling up, but deep down, I feel a pang of guilt at his words.

"You're pushing me away," he replies, his gaze piercing through my defences. "You push everyone away before they can get the chance to hurt you. But you're the one hurting yourself."

I glare at him, my heart racing with anger and hurt. "Is that all you came here to do? To tell me what you think about my choices? Because if so, you can leave."

He scoffs, frustration flickering in his eyes. It's clear he doesn't know how to articulate what he's feeling, and I feel the walls I've built around my heart growing taller. "No, that's not it," he hesitates, but the words stall on his tongue.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words get tangled up in my chest. There's too much to say and nothing that would make sense. I just stare, my mind racing, trying to piece together the unspoken questions in his gaze.

"Then what?" I demand, unable to keep the edge from my voice. The tension between us is electric, and yet I can't let him in. I can't. "I think you should leave," I say, and the words feel like daggers.

He laughs, a low, defeated sound that hangs in the air between us. "Don't do this. Don't push me away. Like you've pushed your parents away-"

"Don't," I cut him off sharply, a mix of anger and desperation surging through me. "I told you that in private. You can't just throw that in my face."

His expression shifts, and I can see the hurt in his eyes, the way it softens into something that resembles understanding. But it's too late. I can't let him break down the barriers I've fought so hard to maintain.

I won't just be another girl to Jason Wilde.

"Arden," he starts, his voice low and earnest, but I shake my head.

"Just go," I say firmly, taking a step back and crossing my arms tighter, as if that could shield me from whatever it is we have—or could have. "Please."

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the hard lines of his face soften, like he's been holding his breath and can finally let it out. Then his expression turns guarded again, and he steps forward, hands balled into fists.

"Arden," he says, his voice rough, like he's been trying to push it down for days. He shakes his head. "Never mind." He turns for the back door again.

I hold my breath as he walks toward the door, every step feeling like a fracture in the fragile resolve I've built. He hesitates at the threshold, glancing back at me.

"Take care of yourself, Arden," he says softly.

He walks away, the door shutting with a resounding click behind him.

And I let him.