Blaze's POV
Jackson's fall is spectacular and absolute. I watch it unfold from my living room, news coverage playing on mute while notifications flood my phone.
The evidence Sophie gathered proved irrefutable—manipulated messages traced back to his devices, forged documents with digital fingerprints he couldn't explain away, years of calculated cruelty exposed in damning detail across every major outlet.
Ryan's testimony sealed the case. He stood before cameras and told the world exactly how Jackson operated—the careful grooming, the manufactured trust, the way he weaponized information against people who considered him a friend.
Other victims came forward after that. Teammates from years past. Staff members who'd been too afraid to speak. A pattern of destruction spanning nearly a decade, finally dragged into the light.
The league acted swiftly. Jackson was removed from the Blazers roster within forty-eight hours of the press conference.
The indefinite ban followed three days later—a decisive statement that this behavior would not be tolerated, that the sport was better than this, that accountability still meant something.
Criminal charges came next with harassment and fraud as well.
The lawyers are still sorting through additional counts as more evidence surfaces. The man who orchestrated so much destruction watches his entire world crumble from a courtroom defendant's chair, and I feel no sympathy.
None at all.
Life slowly returns to something resembling normal. The media frenzy fades as newer scandals capture public attention.
My teammates offer quiet support—shoulder claps in the locker room, casual invitations to team dinners that now include Asher without question. The ice feels welcoming again, like coming home after a long exile.
Three weeks after the press conference, Sophie stands in my doorway with bags packed and a taxi waiting at the curb.
"So this is it," I say, leaning against the doorframe. "You're really leaving."
"Time to move on."
She adjusts the strap of her bag, that familiar efficiency still present in her movements.
"I've overstayed my welcome in this city. Too many memories, you know? Some good, but mostly complicated. I need somewhere that doesn't remind me of everything that happened."
"Where will you go?"
"West coast, maybe. I have a friend in San Diego who's been asking me to visit for years. Figured I might take her up on it, see if the sunshine helps clear my head."
She shrugs, but there's something lighter in the gesture than I've seen from her before. "Or maybe I'll end up somewhere completely different. That's the nice thing about starting over—you get to choose."
I study her face, searching for traces of the woman who lied to me for months. The deception still stings when I let myself think about it too long.
But standing here now, watching her prepare to walk away from everything, I mostly see someone who got caught in currents too strong to fight alone.
"What will you do about the money?" I ask carefully. "Your father's debt—Sophie, you helped us more than I can ever repay. Let me help you back. Whatever you need to get those people off your back, I can cover it."
Sophie shakes her head, and her smile is genuine in a way it rarely was during our months together.
"I appreciate that more than you know, Blaze, really. But I need to figure this out on my own. I've spent too long letting other people's money dictate my choices. Look where that got me—manipulating someone I actually cared about."
"That’s…"
"No, listen." She holds up a hand. "Consider my help an apology for lying. For everything I put you through. You didn't deserve any of it, and no amount of explanation changes the fact that I violated your trust in the worst possible way."
Her voice softens, vulnerability creeping through the cracks in her composure.
"I won't take your parents' money either. Actually, I donated what they'd already given me to an LGBT youth foundation. One of those organizations that helps kids whose families reject them, gives them resources and support and somewhere safe to land."
I stare at her. "You donated it?"
"Every cent. It felt right."
She shrugs again, but there's weight behind the casual gesture.
"That money was meant to hurt you, to fund their plan to change who you are. Using it to help other people like you instead seemed like the only thing that made sense. Poetic justice, or whatever."
Something in my chest loosens. The anger I've been carrying toward her, the betrayal that still surfaces in quiet moments, dissolves into something gentler. Understanding, perhaps. Gratitude for who she became when it mattered most.
"I forgive you," I say quietly. "I want you to know that. Not because I've forgotten what happened, or because it didn't hurt, but because holding onto it doesn't serve either of us anymore. You made mistakes. You also risked everything to fix them. That counts for something."
Sophie's eyes glisten, and for a moment I think she might actually cry. But she blinks it away, swallowing hard, her composure reassembling itself through sheer force of will.
"Thank you." Her voice catches slightly. "That means more than you know. I've been carrying so much guilt, wondering if I'd ever deserve forgiveness for any of it. Hearing you say that…" She pauses, collecting herself. "It helps. It really does."
"Are you leaving the city today? Right now?"
"Yeah. Flight's in four hours, and I still need to return the rental car and grab food at the airport. You know how it is—once you decide to go, staying feels impossible."
She glances past me toward the living room, where Asher is sprawled on the couch pretending to watch television. I know he's listening. We both do.
"You two will be fine without me. More than fine, actually. You're good together, Blaze. The kind of good that survives things it shouldn't."
"Stay in touch," I say firmly. "I mean it. Call if you need anything—money, advice, someone to vent to at three in the morning. Whatever. You're not alone in this, even if you want to handle the debt yourself."
"I will." She nods slowly. "And same goes for you. If Jackson's lawyers try anything, if the media gets ugly again, if you just need someone who understands the whole messy picture—I'm a phone call away."
We embrace. It's warm and honest, free of the pretense that characterized so much of our relationship. She feels smaller in my arms than I remember, or maybe I'm just noticing for the first time how much weight she's been carrying.
"Take care of him," Sophie whispers against my shoulder. "He loves you more than he knows how to say. Don't let him retreat back into himself when things get hard."
"I will," I promise. "I'm not going anywhere."
She pulls back, eyes dry now, smile steady. One last look, taking in my face like she's memorizing it, and then she turns toward the waiting taxi.
"Goodbye, Blaze. Take care."
"You too, Sophie."
She walks out the door without looking back. I watch until the taxi disappears around the corner, carrying her toward whatever comes next.