End Game

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Aurora

I stood in front of the mirror in my dorm, curling the last strand of my hair, trying to steady the whirlwind that had made a permanent home in my chest.

It had been weeks since Nate stopped answering my calls. Every unanswered text felt like a stone dragging me under. I understood why he pulled back—the article had gutted him, and my silence had only made it worse—but knowing the reasons didn't dull the ache.

I missed him. Not just the way he looked at me like I was the only one in the room, but his laugh, the way it made everything feel lighter. I missed the real him—the Nate who gave everything he had to the people he loved, asking nothing in return.

But all I could do now was wait. He needed time. I had to respect that, even if it tore me apart.

Still, waiting didn't mean doing nothing.

The guilt gnawed at me too much to sit idle. I couldn't undo the damage, but I could try to make it right—at least give him back a piece of what was stolen. Two nights ago, I sat at my desk for hours, pouring everything into an email addressed to the Florida Summer Football Training Program.

It felt ironic, leaning on the privilege I'd been running from to fight for Nate. But maybe that was the point—maybe privilege wasn't just about power or appearances. Maybe it could be used for something good. To right a wrong. To push back against the kind of cruelty that had been weaponized against him.

But this wasn't about me. This was about showing them who he really was—beyond the lies, beyond the name-dropping gossip columnists.

When I hit send, I felt the smallest spark of hope. Not much, but enough.

Because Nate had given me so much without even realizing it. He made me want to be better, to step outside the world I came from and believe I could matter for something more than a last name.

And now I wanted to give something back, even if he never forgave me. Even if he never spoke to me again.

Still, I couldn't stop wishing he would. I missed him so much it hurt. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that he meant more to me than I'd ever let myself admit.

For now, all I could do was hope—hope the letter made a difference, hope Nate found his way back to the future he deserved. And maybe, someday, back to me.

Just as I unplugged the curling iron, my phone buzzed with a text from my mother:

Don't forget you're flying home in a few weeks for family photos. Your father's campaign depends on these little things, Aurora. No more surprises from the press—your best behaviour is non-negotiable.

I stared at the screen, the words sinking like lead. Best behaviour. Father's campaign. My mother never let me forget I was a Westbrook before I was anything else.

And right now, they believed Nate was no longer on my radar.

But I wasn't naïve. I knew exactly how much power my family held. My father could ruin Nate with a single phone call if he wanted to. The thought made my stomach churn.

I had to be careful. I had to play their game—for now.

It wasn't just about me anymore. Nate had already lost so much because of me—his reputation, his future on the field, his chance to prove himself. I couldn't risk making things worse by provoking my parents before I had a way to fix it. I needed them on my side long enough to help Nate get reinstated. Once that was done, once I knew he was safe, I could walk away from their world for good.