He’s not wrong. The adductor throbs under the wrap, steady and petty. Eden laughs at something her date says, eyes cutting up. It’s polite. She’s trying. I can see it from twenty yards, and I hate that I can.
Rowan appears with a clipboard and a hurry. “Bus in five. Don’t linger by the glass unless you want a thousand amateur lip-readers and VIPs starting rumors.”
“Think you can make it to the bus without limpin’?” Finn rumbles.
“I’m not limping.”
“You’re icing.”
“Preventive.”
He lifts both hands. “Sure.”
I take one more look at her coat, her hair, the way she shifts off those heels, then turn for the tunnel to the players’garage. Westchester-bound buses idle. The city hums above us. I climb on and tell myself this is restraint, not fear. My hip disagrees, and my chest stays unconvinced.
“Text her,” Finn says, casual. “Or don’t. But stop playin’ a game with your own brain.”
I flip him off. He laughs and sends one back. “You always were a comedian.” Then, softer, “You good, Nate?”
I blow out a breath. “Ask me when my adductor stops talking.”
“That ain’t what I asked.”
I settle into a seat. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
Home is quiet. Lights low. I dump the bag and do what Mercer would want, boring and smart. Adductor squeezes on a ball, 90/90 breathing till the groin lets go. Ice for ten, heat after, compression shorts overnight.
The phone glows on the counter, face down. I try to ignore it. I cave.
Search:Eden Carver.My phone remembers the rest. Of course it does.
Her profile is private. Her avatar is the clinic logo—white on navy. She doesn’t show her face.
Message field blinks. I don’t have a right. I don’t have a plan. I also don’t have the ability to pretend I didn’t see her.
I type. Delete. Type again.
You at the game?Too obvious.
Nice seats.Sounds petty.
You looked happy.No.
My thumb hovers over the nickname I haven’t said in ten years. It started because she never stayed on the safe side of a fence, and I was always the idiot climbing after her. It never stopped fitting.
I type one word.Trouble.
My thumb slips. Send.
Heat spikes under my skin. I stare at the screen. Message sent to @edencarver.
I freeze, then hit Unsend. The bubble disappears. Maybe she saw the notification. Maybe she didn’t. Either way, bad idea.
Idiot.
I open the team portal and log a note for Mercer:Left adductor high. Tight post-split. No sharp pain. Monitor and load.
