I shake my head, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket. “Just feels weird. The thought of all of them… being here. Seeing me in your house.”
Phoenix pauses, giving me that look—half amusement, half challenge. Then he walks over, brushing a thumb along my jaw until I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“Our house,” he corrects. “You’re here more than your own apartment. You sleep in my bed, your toothbrush is in my bathroom, your gear is piled up in my laundry room. Just move in already, Leander. Stop wasting money on rent you don’t use.”
My chest squeezes. He says it so casually, but there’s weight in it. A permanence. I’ve never lived with anyone before. Never had someone ask me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’ll...think about it.”
He grins and kisses my shoulder. “Okay, baby.”
Our house.
That’s what he called it, and the word won’t stop shaking my blood in my veins.
Jax shows up first, carrying a bag of chips and a case of beer like we’re still in college. He helps Phoenix set up in the kitchen, blasting music through the speakers, and for a while it feels almost normal. Just teammates, friends, noise and laughter filling the house.
I catch myself straightening the pile of mail on the entryway table, tugging my jacket off the hook where I always leave it. I know where every drawer in the kitchen is. I know which squeaky board in the hallway to step around when we sneak in late at night. I know the exact sound the bedroom door makes when it closes behind us. And now the team is coming here,walking through, looking at me as if they’re just realizing I don’t look out of place.
For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m sneaking around in Phoenix’s life. I feel like I belong. And I’m proud—proud enough that my chest tightens with it.
A couple of the guys glance at me when I hand out beers from Phoenix’s fridge like it’s second nature. One of them even mutters, “Guess rookie lives here now.” They probably meant it as a jab, but it hits me like a badge of honor. I don’t care if they know. Let them see me in his space. Let them see me with him.
Phoenix, of course, is cool as hell about it. He moves through the house like he always does—commanding, easy, grounded—and every time his eyes land on me across the room, there’s this softness there, like he’s telling me without words,yeah, I want them to see you here too.
When Jax laughs and throws an arm around both of us in the kitchen, teasing Phoenix about finally settling down, I don’t even flinch. For once, I don’t want to hide. I want them all to see that Phoenix Locke—captain, star, legend—chose me. And that thought steadies me through the waves of tension, through the sidelong looks, through the awkward silences. Because for all the noise in my head, I’m proud. Proud of him. Proud of us.
By the time the rest of the Wolves start showing up, the drinks are flowing and the air is loose. Even the guys who’ve been cold to me at practice are cracking jokes, leaning against counters, grabbing beers from the fridge. Alcohol is a good equalizer.
Phoenix waits until everyone’s packed into the living room before calling for attention. He doesn’t have to raise his voice much; people just quiet down when he speaks. Captain energy.
“I just want to say something real quick,” Phoenix starts, standing in front of the fireplace with a bottle in his hand. “I know this season’s been… complicated. We’ve had the mediacrawling all over us, rumors, headlines, all of it. And part of that’s on me.”
He glances at me, just for a second, before looking back at the team.
“When Leander and I started… whatever the hell this was, I treated it like a fling. I liked the rush, the secrecy. I didn’t think it’d turn into a relationship. But it did. And I should’ve been honest with you guys sooner. I owe you that apology.”
There’s a murmur through the room, some guys exchanging looks, some rolling their eyes, but Phoenix keeps steady.
“I’m asking you to forgive us. To forgiveme—for hiding it, for the distraction. This team is family, and I’d never do anything to hurt it. You don’t have to like it, but I hope you’ll respect it.”
For a heartbeat, it feels like maybe this could work. Maybe the alcohol and Phoenix’s honesty will smooth everything over. Then Eric scoffs, loud enough to cut through the quiet.
“Save the speech,” he sneers. “You’re still a shit captain. You risked the whole team’s reputation because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. Some leader.”
The room goes tense. My blood goes hot. I see Phoenix’s jaw clench, but he doesn’t rise to it.
“I hear you,” Phoenix says evenly, taking a drink. “But this isn’t about?—”
“No,” I snap, stepping forward before I can stop myself. My fists clench, my pulse hammering in my ears. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”
Eric smirks, clearly enjoying this. “Oh, look, guard dog’s here. You gonna bite me,sweetheart?”
“Try me,” I growl, and then I’m shoving him, hard, before anyone can get between us.
It explodes fast—Eric swinging, me dodging, fists flying. Someone yells, Jax’s voice booming for us to knock it off, but I’mtoo far gone. Too pissed. Phoenix shoves between us, trying to break it up, and for a second I think it’s over.
Then Eric shoves back.
