Page 175 of Play Dirty

“It won’t fall apart,” I said.

He studied me closely. Like he wanted to believe.

“Good,” he said finally. “Because playoffs are coming.”

My pulse kicked.

“You’ll be ready,” he continued. “Or you won’t be here.”

Blunt. Honest.

So very Mercer.

“I’ll be here,” I said with confidence.

He looked at me and nodded again. Slowly. Gravely.

Deep in my gut, I knew that nod meant something.

“Go sit down,” he said, already turning back toward the window. “Before they start thinking you’re important.”

I let out a quiet laugh and stood up. As I headed back down the aisle, I could feel it again:

The energy. The looks. The shift in dynamic.

I slid back into my seat. Sebastian leaned in, just enough to murmur—

“What did he say?”

I smiled.

“He told me not to screw it up.”

Ares snorted.

“Too late for that.”

Grayson’s hard gray stare pinned me in place. There was depth to his gaze now. It felt real.

Under normal circumstances I would’ve looked away, overwhelmed by my own feelings. But not now. Not after everything we’d been through.

This wasn’t temporary. It wasn’t a mistake.

And it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to stop.

I looked out the window, as the bus rolled on. On toward the playoffs. On toward everything.

On toward whatever the hell we’d just become.

~ 50 ~

HAVEN

The rink buzzed like it always did — skates carving ice, pucks snapping off sticks like the crack of a whip. Mercer barking from somewhere behind the latest play, as guys moved through drills, sharp and focused.

Everything clicked.

Everything worked.