The air around us is charged, the enormity of what we’ve decided settling heavily between us. But for the first time sincestepping foot back into Penn’s life, I feel safe. Not just physically—emotionally too. Like we’ve finally reached a place neither of us has ever allowed ourselves to go.
Slowly, Penn closes the distance, pressing his mouth gently to mine. This kiss isn’t desperate or angry, not frantic like before. It feels like we’re sealing a pact. Like we’ve acknowledged that fate has something in store for us.
When we pull apart, he rests his head back on the pillow, tugging me gently into his arms. I settle against him, my cheek once again finding that comforting spot over his heart.
We lie quietly, absorbing everything we’ve just shared, uncertain of what the future holds, but no longer running from it.
Together. For now, that feels like enough.
CHAPTER 14
Penn
Iwalk intothe Titans’ locker room, my mind swirling with far too many things taking up valuable space. I just settled Mila in the family lounge and Willa is going to meet her soon. They’ll sit together during the game and after… well, I don’t know what we’ll do after the game. We didn’t talk about it, but as Mila says… we’ll take it one step at a time, one day at a time.
A slightly bigger worry is my teammates. I’ve spent months ignoring their offers of friendship. I’ve hidden ugly secrets from them and now there’s a very real possibility that this news article will blow up into a PR nightmare. Several of the players have tried to befriend me while others have started to figure out my backstory. And then there’s King, the one guy who knows it all.
But those worries will have to wait because I’ve got to concentrate on the game. There’s a reason we all get to the arena so early, and that’s so we can mentally prepare ourselves for the battle ahead. Ottawa won’t be an easy opponent and we have to be on our A game at all times.
Which is why it sucks having this burden hanging over me—this need to start repairing relationships—but more importantly, I need to share my story with them so they at least have some understanding about why I’ve been such an asshole. Mila told me today before we left my house that since I’ve found some ability to trust her, maybe it’s time to do the same with my teammates.
That’s a big fucking ask, for sure, because I was so devastated when the Wraiths team turned against me for doing the rightthing. That betrayal has shaped my entire adult life, and I can’t just switch off those fears as if they were a light switch.
I head to my cubby, a large wooden open-doored locker where our game gear has been neatly stored for us. All the players’ last names are displayed at the top of each cubby and the new guy, Branson, has been put beside me. I always liked Evgeny being there because he never tried to forge any type of bond. He was all business, focused on the game of hockey and nothing more.
Despite my reticence to engage with my teammates, I do very much like the electric atmosphere when I walk in. The usual pre-game energy is heightened by a mix of adrenaline and anticipation. I sit on the bench and work on taping my sticks, a pre-game ritual that I find meditative.
Movement to my right catches my eye and I see Lucky take a seat on the long bench our cubbies share. He glances at me, lifts his chin and then pulls his phone out of his back pocket.
I return to my stick taping, but he shoves the phone at me. “Here, man.”
Stunned by the offer, I take it from him, unsure what he wants me to do.
He nods at it in my hand. “Just hold it up, make sure you get me from head to toe, and hit that red button. Don’t stop recording until the music stops.”
“What?” I ask, so confused I can’t even be pissed that he’s bothering me.
He doesn’t answer but steps a few feet away, rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles. “Okay, ready?”
“Um… yeah?” I say, as if I’m questioning the sanity of this entire situation.
I watch him curiously, as do a few other guys. Lucky hasn’t been with us long enough to become predictable, but this is definitely unexpected.
“What the hell’s he doing?” Boone murmurs from his cubby, squinting in confusion.
“Got me,” Atlas says, sliding onto the bench next to me and watching with a bemused expression. “New kid might be cracked.”
Lucky straightens, glancing around the room. “Need absolute silence, boys. This is art in the making.”
Stone pauses mid-lace, eyebrows arching. “Art?”
Lucky grins, all charm and confidence. “You’ll see.”
With no further explanation, he points at me. “Hit it, Navarro.”
I jolt at my cue and tap the red button. Immediately, the unmistakable beat of Dua Lipa’s “Levitating” fills the room from the speaker on his iPhone.
“Aw, fuck.” King chuckles, shaking his head. “This ought to be good.”
