She wants him back
1328 Words
Amira Kingston awoke to the sound of footsteps. Precise. Coordinated. Heavy boots on polished floors.
She blinked, groggy and confused, sitting up in her hospital bed. Her head throbbed gently, but it wasn’t pain that made her heart race. It was instinct. The kind of instinct you develop when your life has been one long performance—and now, the stage lights were blinding.
A uniformed man in a black suit stood at the door.
Behind him stood five more.
“Miss Kingston,” the man said, touching the mic in his ear. “Your discharge is complete. We’re here to escort you back to St. Regis University.”
Amira frowned. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t blink. “Your father arranged for immediate transport. All medical assessments have cleared. A car is waiting.”
She looked around the room like she might be on a hidden camera show. “And it takes a presidential task force to roll me out in a wheelchair?”
“There’s no wheelchair, Miss. You’re walking.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed slowly, rolling her eyes. “What are you, the Secret Service?”
No one laughed.
Typical.
She pushed herself up, ignoring the stiffness in her side. Her shoulder twinged—just bruised. Nothing serious. Her heart, on the other hand, felt like it had been through a blender.
Not because of the crash.
Because of him.
Jace Monroe.
And the fact that he was gone.
Her father had made sure of it and she didn’t stop it. She thought she was happy he left.
She hadn’t seen Jace since that moment in the hospital corridor—since she said “Happy to miss you,” like a spiteful little brat pretending she hadn’t almost died in his arms.
She followed the guards out in silence, jaw clenched. Her phone vibrated as they walked down the hospital corridor, but she didn’t check it. She didn’t want texts from her father. Or news updates. Or the inevitable campus gossip.
She wanted Jace.
She wanted to scream at him, slap him…maybe.
They stepped outside.
It wasn’t a car waiting.
It was a fleet.
Three black SUVs. Two motorcycles. One sedan trailing behind like a loyal dog. Drivers stood at attention. Doors were opened simultaneously. The guards flanked her like she was a nuclear code.
“This is humiliating,” she muttered.
“Protocol,” the lead guard said.
She didn’t respond. She climbed into the middle SUV and slammed the door shut.
***
By the time they reached campus, her fury had graduated from a quiet simmer to a boiling rage.
Students stopped mid-conversation as the convoy rolled past the campus gates. Phones rose in unison. Screens flashed.
“Is that Amira Kingston?”
“Dude, she’s got a motorcade like she’s Michelle Obama.”
“New security?”
“Damn. Where’s the hot bodyguard?”
That last comment stabbed.
The SUVs pulled up in front of her dorm like a mini-military operation.
She practically jumped out before the door could be opened, storming up the stairs. The guards followed in formation, two ahead, two behind, one to her left.
She gritted her teeth.
“This is a college dorm, not the f*****g Pentagon.”
None of them cracked a smile.
She got to her room and pushed open the door…
“OH MY GOD, AMIRA!!”
Tara.
Her roommate screamed as she rushed in and flung her arms around Amira like a koala.
Amira winced. “Ouch…ribs, ribs!”
“Oh! Sorry!” Tara pulled back but kept both hands on her shoulders. “You look like hell. Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better Mondays.”
Tara glanced over her shoulder and froze. “Uh… why are there six men in suits standing outside our room?”
“My father lost his mind.”
Tara gave her a horrified look. “What happened to Jace?”
“He got fired.”
Tara’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? Fired? Why?!”
Amira stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind them, silencing the hallway—and the guards—with a satisfying slam.
“My father blamed him for the crash. Said it was negligence.”
“That’s crap. You told him the truth, right?”
Amira nodded, slumping onto her bed. “Didn’t matter. He wanted him gone.”
Tara dropped beside her. “But… he saved your life.”
“I know.”
There was silence.
Then Tara’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “I know that look, so… do you miss him?”
Amira tossed a pillow at her.
Tara caught it. “That’s a yes.”
“It’s a maybe,” Amira snapped.
Tara smirked. “Which means yes.”
Amira groaned. “Okay, fine! I miss him. Happy?”
Tara squealed and bounced. “Oh my God, I KNEW it! I knew the tension between you two was real!”
Amira gave her a look. “Can we focus on the real issue here? I’m now the main attraction on campus, being babysat by men who probably take CIA oaths just to go to the bathroom.”
Tara flopped back on the bed, laughing. “That bad?”
“They will follow me to class. They will follow me to the cafeteria. They will probably follow me to the vending machine when I go to buy gum.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
Amira rolled onto her stomach, staring at the ceiling. “It’s beyond exhausting. It’s humiliating. I feel like I’m under house arrest. I can’t even fart without someone in a black tie hearing it.”
“Okay, ew.”
“I want Jace back.”
Tara shot upright. “NOW we’re talking.”
“He was annoying, yeah, but at least he let me breathe, plus it was just him. These guys make breathing look like a felony.”
Tara pulled out her phone. “So what’s the plan?”
“We convince my father.”
“Convince him?” Tara scoffed. “You could tell him you want pizza, and he’d hand you a personalized chef instead. "How are you going to get him to reverse a decision he’s clearly made with his ego?”
Amira hesitated.
Then she opened her drawer and pulled out the crumpled note. The one with the magazine-cut letters. The one she hadn’t shown anyone yet.
She handed it to Tara.
Tara read it aloud:
“Now that he’s watching less… it’s time I watched more.”
Her eyes widened. “You got this after the crash?”
“No. Before. I just didn’t say anything because—well—things were chaotic.”
Tara stared at her. “This is terrifying.”
“I know.”
“Your dad needs to see this.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Tara looked up. “This is our leverage.”
Amira nodded.
“Jace knew,” she said. “He sensed something before I did. That’s why he was always so serious. He was trying to protect me before I even realized I needed protecting.”
“So you show this to your dad,” Tara said, eyes lit with strategy. “You make him realize he fired the only person who gave a damn.”
“And maybe…” Amira swallowed. “Maybe he’ll bring him back.”
Tara grinned. “You’re not as heartless as you pretend, you know.”
Amira rolled her eyes. “Don’t ruin it.”
They both laughed.
Then Tara leaned forward. “Let’s write an email to your dad right now.”
“With pictures,” Amira said. “And a warning. If he doesn’t bring Jace back…”
“…you’ll…” Tara finished.
“And do something reckless.”
“Again.”
They high-fived.
Then outside, through the crack of the hallway door, neither of them noticed the quiet click of a security radio activating.
- Writer
