30. Connor

The text from my agent was the last thing I expected the next morning, the abruptness of his voice jarring me from the haze of my concerns.

Are you watching this?

I was clueless as to what the hell he could be talking about, my mind far from anything to do with the outside world, especially the media.

My body tensed with an immediate sense of dread, not over the call but over the empty, cool space beside me in bed where Brooke should have been. Had she left? Was everything that happened between us last night just a way for her to settle some unseen score? She wasn"t in the bathroom or in the closet getting dressed.

A knot formed in my stomach as I pulled on some underwear and started searching the house for any sign of her, calling out her name into the silence, but there was no response. The stillness felt ominous, a stark contrast to the warmth and closeness we had shared just hours ago.

My phone rang, Gary"s voice cutting through the quiet. "Did you turn on the NHL Network?" he asked, a note of impatience in his tone.

Frustration flared within me, irritation at the intrusion, at the reminder of a world I felt increasingly alienated from. "My life doesn"t revolve around the NHL Network," I snapped back, irritation making my voice harsh. "I"m preoccupied?—"

"I didn"t think the Westwood girl would make a statement," Gary interjected, his words stopping me cold.

"Wait, what?" The urgency in my voice matched his now, the earlier irritation forgotten as panic took its place.

I rushed to the living room, the remote suddenly heavy in my hand as I turned on the television, my heart hammering in my chest. The thought of Brooke making a public statement, of stepping into the spotlight that I knew all too well could be merciless, filled me with a mix of fear and confusion.

What had she said? And more importantly, why?

The television screen showed Minka Mathers standing at a podium, the very embodiment of formal grace in a dress that was both elegant and assertive, a perfect choice for the gravity of the occasion. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, a dark, rich color that contrasted beautifully with her blonde hair and the determined look in her eyes.

To her left stood Brooke, an ethereal figure in her own right. Her dress flowed around her with a delicate grace, the light fabric accentuating her form in a way that was both understated and striking. The color seemed to capture the very essence of her, soft yet resilient, making her appear both vulnerable and fiercely determined.

"After Sarah Walters came out making these slanderous statements, I decided to investigate why Connor Bradley was released from the Serpents." Minka"s words cut through the air with precision. "It turns out, Sarah walked in on Connor Bradley and Brooke Westwood, and instead of discussing things with her husband, she headed straight for Brooke"s father, Jackson Westwood. It would seem he had gambling debts that needed to be paid, and she was hoping to blackmail him into giving her money, knowing she and Connor were going through a divorce. However, because Mr. Westwood had money troubles of his own, he suggested they go to Detroit with the problem. My uncle had been looking for a reason to get rid of Connor because of salary cap issues, but instead of simply buying out his contract, he looked for a reason to fire Connor without paying him. However, both Mr. Westwood and Ms. Walters received a hefty payment from my uncle for providing what he needed to not only get rid of Connor, but ruin his reputation so no other team would want him. Detroit is still paying what's owed to Mr. Bradley before this termination as well."

As she stepped back, Brooke moved forward, and my heart seemed to stop at the sight of her. There was a strength in her stance, a quiet power in her presence that was magnificently beautiful.

"Connor and I were together that night," Brooke"s voice rang out, clear and unwavering. "Before anyone asks, I was eighteen and everything that happened between us was consensual. The way I feel about Connor... I don"t think it"s fair that I have to tell you. Quite frankly, it"s none of your business. But I will say, everything between us, everything that happened, I wanted. I wasn"t a na?ve little girl. He didn"t take advantage of me. He didn"t do all the nasty things you"re saying he did. Connor is so many things, so many things you"ll never see because you only see him as Fury Bradley, a pest, quick to anger. The truth is, he"s loyal, and he takes care of his own and any team would be lucky to have him."

My mouth fell open in shock, my emotions a whirlwind of gratitude, admiration, and an indescribable love for this remarkable woman. Hearing Brooke speak so passionately in my defense, to declare to the world her feelings and to stand against the tide of judgment and scorn, was both humbling and heart-wrenching. She was risking everything, her reputation, her privacy, for me. The realization that Brooke Westwood was willing to sacrifice so much to clear my name, to stand by me, was overwhelming.

The room around me seemed to blur into insignificance as Minka stepped forward again. "To right this unjust termination, I, on behalf of the entire Serpents organization, wish to extend Connor Bradley our most sincere apologies and request he consider coming back to play for us." The words hung heavy in the air, laden with implications and possibilities that moments ago had seemed as distant as the stars. "A potential contract is already being drawn up as we speak, and my team has already reached out to his agent."

Gary"s voice snapped me back to reality. "You hear that?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his tone that mirrored the racing of my own heart.

I had completely forgotten he was there.

I was momentarily lost for words, the magnitude of what was unfolding leaving me momentarily adrift in a sea of emotions. Was this really happening? After everything, after the accusations, the fall from grace, the personal turmoil, was there really a path back to the ice for me?

"What do you say, Bradley? Contingent on the contract, you want to be a Serpent again?" Gary"s question punctuated the surreal moment, demanding an answer I wasn"t sure I was ready to give.

My gaze flicked back to the television, to Brooke and Minka standing together, a unified front in the face of adversity. They had fought for me, believed in me when I had started to doubt myself. This offer wasn"t just a second chance at my career; it was validation of their faith in me, a testament to the power of truth and resilience. The weight of the decision pressed down on me. At this point, there was only one thing I knew I wanted…and it wasn't a contract.

The morning was still fresh,the early sun casting a gentle glow over the townhouse, when Brooke returned, carrying breakfast. Her arrival should have filled me with warmth, but instead, a surge of frustration took hold when I realized she had left without saying anything. Before I could process it, my emotions got the better of me, and I pinned her against the table, the need for her, mingled with irritation, fueling my actions.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me you were leaving?" I demanded, rougher than I intended. "Especially after what happened last night."

"I left you a note," she countered, her voice a mixture of surprise and calm, as if she was used to my sudden shifts in mood. "On your nightstand."

Her explanation did little to quell the storm brewing within me. My voice was rough with barely contained desire and frustration as I growled, "Kind of disappointed you covered up my marks."

"Are you kidding?" Her retort was quick, laced with a breathy laughter that did strange things to my heart. "I couldn"t cover them up. It"s why I wore my hair down."

The admission drew a low murmur from me, my lips finding the curve of her neck. "I wanted everyone to see them," I confessed, the words whispered against her skin, carrying the weight of my possessiveness and pride.

"Trust me, everyone knows," she managed to say, her voice breathy, charged with an electricity that sparked between us. "Didn"t you hear?"

I pulled away, the sudden need to see her face, to read the truth in her eyes, overwhelming me. "Why did you do that?" Why did she risk that? "Westwood, no one is going to take you seriously. People are going to think?—"

"I don"t care what they think," she interrupted, her defiance shining bright, beautiful. "You taught me that."

"Oh, yeah?" I cupped her cheek and kissed her lips. "Glad to see I taught you something."

"Are you going to play? For the Serpents? Again?" Brooke asked, her head tilting slightly, curiosity mingling with concern in her eyes.

"That depends," I responded.

"On what?" she pressed, her brows knitting together in confusion.

The moment stretched between us, heavy with significance. "On you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, each word laden with meaning.

"Me?" Disbelief and surprise flitted across her face. "Why me?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of my next words feeling monumental. "Westwood, I"m not getting any younger," I began, my voice steady despite the tumult inside me. "I don"t have many more years in the NHL if I decide to go back. I need to know you"re in this with me for the long haul." The admission felt like a leap into the unknown, a risk I was willing to take for her, for us. "If I had known about the contract, I would have gone to get a ring, something, because none of it matters without you. I can"t do this without you."

The silence that followed was palpable, heavy with anticipation and the weight of decisions yet to be made. "What... what are you saying?" Brooke"s voice was soft, a whisper in the vastness of the moment.

"Marry me."

The hesitation that followed felt like an eternity, her voice trailing off, leaving my heart suspended in midair. I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to sway her decision, to make her see the depth of my conviction. This had to be her choice, her desire matching mine.

Then, her eyes met mine, sparkling with tears and something else — a joy, a certainty that mirrored my own. "Yes," she breathed, the word a balm to my soul. "Yes, I"ll marry you."

Without a second thought, I lifted her over my shoulder, her laughter a melody that filled the room as I led her upstairs. "What about the food?" she asked.

"Let it get cold," I said. "You're the only thing I want to eat."