Page 204 of Play Dirty

Grayson nodded solemnly in response. And that was it.

It was all over.

The noise died down after that. Not completely, but enough that we could hear ourselves again. Practice sharpened. Focus locked in. The next opponent — whoever they were, because brackets were still forming — became the only thing that mattered.

And Grayson?

He came back.

Not that he’d gone anywhere. But the edge — the tightness, the weight he’d been carrying since everything started to unravel — it was gone.

He laughed more. Talked more.

Moved like himself again.

“Doesn’t matter who we get,” he said one afternoon, skating backward at center ice like he had all the time in the world. “We’re running straight through them.”

Sebastian snorted. “Is that so?”

“That’s so.”

Ares shook his head, but he was smiling.

“Cocky bastard.”

“Confidence,” Grayson corrected. “It’s only cocky if you can’t back it up.”

He looked over at me then. And just for a second—

It wasn’t the captain.

Not the guy holding everything together.

Just him.

And God… that might’ve been my favorite version.

“They’re not ready for us,” he added.

Not loud. Not for the team.

Just for me.

I believed him.

Because for the first time in what seemed like forever— everything was aligned.

No shadows. No questions. No one pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Just us. The team. The game.

And whatever came next.

Playoffs.

I should’ve been nervous. Should’ve been overthinking every possible outcome. Running numbers. Breaking down matchups.

Instead, I felt calm.