The absurdly perfect chemistry with Connor as we hit our closing pose.
Connor was right there every single time I needed him, with steady hands and arms sure. Neither of us came close to falling.
We’re good together. Which is infuriating and history-soaked, but no less true.
My phone vibrates as I pass Reverie’s parking lot. There’s a missed call from Mom, who will want a full debrief with Olympic-level commentary later. For now, I pick up Briar’s call.
“Holy shit, Grace. That show? I thought they were going to carry you out on their shoulders. You looked like you belonged on a cereal box.”
I snort, the warmth in my chest doubling. “You weren’t even here.”
“I have internet, you moron. Got streaming tickets for tonight.” There’s clatter in the background—Briar’s new pack of alphas, I’d bet. “You went full princess. How does it feel to be the face of Reverie?”
“I’m not the face. Maybe the kneecaps.” I laugh. “My legs are still shaking.”
Briar hums. “You seem slightly off. Are you going to tell me what’s up, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
I consider deflecting. What’s the point? She knows me too well. “Zev, Connor, and Fowler have all talked to me. Apologized, actually. Individually.”
The line goes quiet except for Briar’s breath. “Huh. Didn’t see that coming.”
“Yeah. And it was less cringey than I thought it might be.”
Briar whistles. “Do you believe them?”
That’s the million-dollar question. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I picture Connor’s face from this afternoon. “Part of me wants to hate them forever, you know?”
“And the other part?”
“Would settle for just nailing the next show, and maybe not being a public embarrassment.”
Briar laughs. “Grace. You could never be an embarrassment. You’re like, annoyingly unflappable. I wish I had an ounce of your confidence.”
“Is that what this is? Confidence?” I wrinkle my nose. “Feels more like survival.”
“Same thing,” she says. “Listen, I get why you’re cautious. But also, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to give them asecond chance. Even if it’s just for the show. But like, acautioussecond chance.”
I mull this over as I cross toward the apartment building. “Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up, though. I’m still emotionally in witness protection.”
Briar cackles. “Text me when you’re home, you shut-in.”
“Will do.” I pause, then add, “Hey. I’m glad you’re there for me. Even if you’re busy with your own circus.”
There’s a brief hush. “Always, Grace. You know that.”
“I do.” I hang up and make my way back to my apartment.
Maybe things are finally looking up.
CHAPTER 14
ZEV
If you’d asked me two years ago where I’d be on a Friday in June, I’d have said: “NHL rink, first line—preferably with all my teeth.” You’d have gotten a lazy half-smile and a punch to the bicep, just to show there were no hard feelings about the dumb question.
Now, standing in the shadow of Boston’s largest performance arena, I’ve got no teeth left—metaphorically—and a noisy clump of high school hockey kids looking at me like I’m about to lead them into battle or onto a reality show.
It’s been a few weeks since Grace returned to our orbit, and I’m still not convinced the universe isn’t punking me. I’ve spent the intervening days keeping my head down, skating the edge between coaching and therapy, and pretending the scent of roses doesn’t cling to my skin like a second jersey.
