Page 92 of Play Dirty

Grayson didn’t answer. That was answer enough for me.

“Does that surprise you?” I asked.

His gaze held mine. Measured.

“No,” he said finally.

“He wasn’t like that here, though?”

Something tugged at the corners of his mouth, forcing it into a frown.

“He’s on a hot streak,” Grayson shrugged. “Good for him.”

“Six straight,” I repeated. “Ten of the last twelve. GAA hovering around 1.8. And his save percentage—”

“You driving at something?” Grayson cut me off, pulling his hood back.

I changed my tone to something calmer, more careful.

“I’m just saying he’s different now. Way different than he was here.”

The stats didn’t lie. It wasn’t like Carter Sutherland lucked into a winning team, his entire game had been transformed. His stats with the Reavers had taken a crash dive in the weeks before he was traded. And now…

“People aren’t always what they look like,” Grayson said, strangely.

I studied him for a moment.

“That supposed to mean something?”

A beat. Then—

“No,” he said, unconvincingly.

Grayson popped his earbud back in and pulled his hood low, over his face. The conversation was over. I lingered for a second longer, then stood up and walked back down the aisle.

As I passed her, Haven looked up. Our eyes met. She smiled.

It was soft. Easy. Like nothing had changed.

I almost smiled back.

Almost.

Then I kept walking. Because maybe… that was all it was ever going to be.

I dropped back into my seat and stared out the window. The glass was cold. Frost crept along the edges, distorting the dark landscape rolling past.

The team laughed behind me. Talked. Moved on.

But I stayed quiet. Watching. Thinking. And of course, wondering if I was ever really going to fit in here.

Or if I was always going to be—

Just outside of it.

~ 31 ~

HAVEN