Chapter 14
810 Words
Gina’s POV
My first week at BrightEdge felt like a crash course in adrenaline.
New faces. New tools. New systems. A to-do list that multiplied every time I blinked.
I wasn’t thriving yet—but I was surviving.
And right now, that was enough.
I had my own desk, my own ID badge, a semi-functional office chair that squeaked every time I shifted, and a monitor I was convinced had a vendetta against me.
But it was mine.
And I’d earned it.
Every login. Every internal memo. Every mildly awkward small talk with coworkers I was still trying to remember by name—it reminded me that I was no longer stuck.
This time, I had a place to be. A reason to wake up.
A job.
A future.
Even if my past still sent me polite, unread text messages.
I hadn’t replied to Jack.
Still.
Not because I didn’t want to.
But because… what do you say to someone who made you feel seen on the worst day of your life?
What do you say to a man who made you smile in a moment when the world felt like it was collapsing around you?
What do you say to someone who waited patiently for a response—and never demanded one?
You don’t.
Not until you’re sure.
And I wasn’t.
I was just wrapping up a client copy draft on Thursday afternoon when Rebecca peeked over my cubicle wall.
“You’re coming to the joint strategy session tomorrow, right?”
“Sorry?” I looked up, blinking.
She smiled. “Every department lead sits in on our Friday vision meetings. You’ll sit in with us and shadow.”
“Oh. Uh—sure, yes. Of course.”
“Perfect. Conference Room C. 10 a.m. Dress like you know what you’re doing.”
I forced a confident nod. “Right. Got it.”
She walked away, and I immediately opened my calendar to mark it down.
Conference Room C – 10 a.m. Friday.
Sounds easy enough, right?
Except, I’d heard the rumors about Friday strategy sessions.
They were fast-paced. Ruthless. Led by top-tier execs and marketing heads from partnering firms.
The kind of room where everyone spoke in sharp ideas and bulletproof confidence.
Not exactly beginner-friendly.
I closed my laptop and leaned back.
Sink or swim, Gina. This is what you asked for.
I had no idea then that fate was planning to throw me overboard—with him in the room.
Friday came too quickly.
I wore a blazer that made me feel like I might belong, tied my hair up to keep from fidgeting, and walked into Conference Room C fifteen minutes early.
Rebecca was already there, chatting with a couple team leads.
I picked a seat near the end of the table, opened my notepad, and kept my eyes down—until the door opened again.
And Jack walked in.
Wearing navy and confidence. Holding a tablet. Nodding at people like he’d done this a hundred times.
I froze.
No. Freaking. Way.
He didn’t see me at first.
He was too busy talking to Rebecca. Too focused.
But then he turned, scanned the room—and our eyes locked.
Just for a second.
Recognition. Surprise. Then something quieter.
Relief?
He didn’t approach. Didn’t wave. Didn’t smile too much.
He simply nodded.
Like he’d known I’d be there all along.
Like he’d been waiting for this moment.
The meeting started.
I barely heard half of it.
There was talk of engagement rates, brand elevation, storytelling strategies. Jack spoke in calm, clear ideas—no ego, no fluff. Just sharp insight and quiet control.
He didn’t look at me again.
Not once.
But I could feel him.
Like gravity.
Like static in the air.
When the meeting ended, people stood and chatted and packed up like it was any other day.
Jack took his time organizing his things.
I stood slowly, gripping my notepad, unsure whether I should walk away or—
“Gina.”
I turned.
He was standing next to me now. Close, but not too close.
“Hey,” I said.
“Glad to see you here,” he said, voice soft. “Really.”
I nodded. “I didn’t know you worked with BrightEdge.”
“I don’t. Not directly. Topher consults on their strategy.”
“Right.” I swallowed. “Well, you’re… good at it.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
A beat of silence.
Then he added, “You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to say that.”
I blinked.
He wasn’t asking for anything.
Just… showing up again.
Like he always did.
“I know I don’t,” I said. “But I think I owe myself the chance to respond.”
He looked up at me.
“You did,” he said gently. “Right now.”
- Writer
