You’re Still The One by Erika Kelly

 

 

Prologue

Griffin James had screwed up.

Badly.

The roar of the motorcycle couldn’t drown out his regrets, and the Texas sun beating down on him couldn’t burn through the fear that he might’ve lost her for good.

No. Not possible.

They were too good together, too strong.

She’s my heart.

And I’m here now. We’ll work it out.

The anxiety crashing through him made him jittery.

Not good when you’re tearing down the highway.

His GPS signaled his exit, and he began easing over across lanes. He was close now. Soon, he’d get her back. And when he did, his world would finally be right again.

Getting off the freeway, he turned at the light. He’d tell her he loved her, that he was sorry, and that he’d never meant to say those two stupid, fatal words.

We’re done.

What kind of asshole said that to the woman he loved?

Sure, she’d kissed her sister’s fiancé at the rehearsal dinner, but he knew Stella. Knew her intentions. She couldn’t stand to see her sister marry the wrong man. The dirtbag wanted to be part of the Cavanaugh family—the Hall of Fame quarterback dad, the former supermodel mom, the pop star older sister. It had nothing to do with his fiancée.

So, Stella had tested the guy, and he’d failed. In front of everyone they’d ever known.

That whole night, she’d been threatening to expose him, but Griffin kept telling her to knock it off, that she’d done what she could by warning her sister. But Stella wouldn’t listen. She loved fiercely, and she wouldn’t stand around and watch her sister get screwed over by some asshole.

Yeah, it was bad, but I didn’t have to break up with her.

Fuck.

Of course, he hadn’t known she’d take off like that. No one had. And now…six months later…Jesus, when he thought of how alone she’d been all this time. How…scared. How hurt and rejected she must feel.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

But he’d make things right.

Braking at a light, Griffin glanced down at the GPS. He was two minutes from his destination. Two minutes from putting himself out of his misery, from relieving Stella of the guilt and sadness she’d undoubtedly carried with her all these months.

Hammering down, he raced through the quiet streets until he hit the parking lot.

The corporate headquarters of the Wildcats was in a suburb of Dallas. The massive, modern building spread over acres with its training center, stadium, and practice fields.

Pulling into a spot, he cut the engine and swung a leg off his bike. Ah, damn. He ached. He’d ridden twelve hours yesterday and ten today, only taking short breaks. Last night, he’d slept in a campground in Burlington, Colorado.

But he didn’t care. None of that mattered.

The only thing he could think about was seeing her.

And apologizing.

Entering the building, he took in the tinted windows and display cases filled with jerseys, awards, and photos of players. The walls, carpet, couches, and chairs all reflected the team colors—teal and metallic silver.

He headed to an enormous reception desk. “Hey, I’m here to see Stella Cavanaugh.”

“Um, okay?” Looking flustered, the young woman flipped open a notebook and ran a finger along a list of names and phone numbers. Her forehead creased in confusion. “Um. Just give me a sec.”

It struck him that Stella worked in PR. Maybe that was in a different building. “She’s an intern with the publicity department.”

“Oh, okay.” She skipped ahead several pages and scanned a smaller list of names. “I don’t see her. Let me make a quick call.” Picking up the phone, she punched a few numbers. Then, she glanced up at him with an apologetic expression. “I’m new here. First day.”

“No problem.” He felt better, lighter than he had in months. At first, her parents had refused to give him any information. They’d said they had to honor her request—she didn’t want anyone from her old life to know where she was—but last week—finally—they’d changed their minds. They were worried and wanted someone to check in.

They didn’t know where she lived, only where she worked.

Fuck, but he missed her.

Seems crazy to fall in love when you’re a kid, to know down to your bones that you’ve found the one person for you. But he’d known, all right. He’d never had a doubt.

We’re done.

He fucking hated himself.

For most of his life, he couldn’t have her, and it wasn’t because of the nearly two-year age difference. It was because of her sister’s crush. Not that he’d known about it at the time. Lulu had barely ever spoken to him.

But Stella knew, and she’d kept him at arm’s length because she loved her sister.

Which was why, the minute Griffin had heard about Lulu falling in love, he’d dropped out of college and come home, taken a full-time job at the bike shop where he’d worked in high school, just so he could finally be with Stella. His heart.

My whole fucking heart.

What if she was pissed? Refused to see him?

Panic squeezed his lungs.

No, no. She loves me. I know she does.

He’d come to fix it, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d won her back.

“Hi, this is Ashley at reception. There’s someone here to see Stella Cavanaugh. He says she’s in PR.”

It killed him to remember how she’d begged him to forgive her, pleaded with him to stay with her. He’d been too angry at the time to think clearly, so he’d told her they were done.

Fuck, he’d do anything to go back and torch those words, turn them to ash.

“Is there something you needed?” the woman asked, one hand covering the mouthpiece.

Shit. He’d been so driven to get here he hadn’t considered how it might look if she got a personal visit during work hours. Then again, it was nearly five in the afternoon. It couldn’t be that bad to show up at the end of the day. “I’m a friend from home.”

“He’s her friend,” she said into the receiver.

If only Stella had given him time. He could never have anticipated her leaving town only two weeks after the rehearsal dinner. She’d cut him—everyone—off from social media. She’d even blocked him on her phone.

Fortunately, her parents had tracked her through an emergency credit card, so they’d convinced her to take the job with the Wildcats.

“I’m afraid she’s not here,” the receptionist said.

“Not here, as in, she’s already left for the day?” Please don’t tell me she quit her job and moved somewhere else. How would he find her?

“Like I said, I’m new...” She gave a helpless shrug.

Leaning forward, he pressed his clammy hands on the desk. “I just drove twenty-two hours from Wyoming to get here. Please, if there’s any way I can get in touch with her, I’d appreciate it. I…” I miss her. I need her. “It’s a surprise.”

She thinks everyone she loved turned against her.

Including me.

I hurt the person I love most in the world.

If only she’d given him a chance to work through his anger. Of course, he would’ve gotten back with her.

“I don’t know if I should say this…” She glanced over her shoulder, but no one was around. “But she’s not Stella Cavanaugh anymore. She goes by Rocky Miller now.”

“Thank you.” He slapped the counter. “Thank you so much.”

The woman looked anxious.

And that’s my fault. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, and I won’t tell anyone what you told me. Thanks again.” Armed with enough information to get her back, he headed out into the blinding sunlight,

When he got to his bike, he checked the saddlebag for the little velvet box. He did it every time he stopped, worried it would fall out or someone would nab it. It wasn’t much—he couldn’t afford shit on his salary—but it was the message it delivered that mattered.

I’m going to marry her.

He couldn’t wait to see her expression when he dropped to a knee and popped the question. Pulling out his phone, he tapped the Splashagram app. As soon as he found her, he’d message her. He smiled when he imagined her eyes lighting up at the sight of his name in her notifications, the relief she would feel.

It had to be killing her to be cut off from her family, to not be with him. He knew because he hadn’t been able to function since they’d broken up.

He could barely eat or sleep. Every time his boss walked past him, he smacked him on the back of his head. Get your head out of the clouds.

The idea of her all alone in this big city, feeling rejected…it consumed him.

He typed Rocky Miller into the search bar.

Found her.

Fuck, yes. My girl.

My fucking heart.

But his stomach plummeted when he saw the images.

She sure as hell wasn’t in the office. She wasn’t even in Dallas.

She was on the beach.

With a guy.

On her fucking honeymoon.

Stella had gotten married.