We roll into the secluded clearing by the lake, the water smooth and unmoving. I shut off the engine and get out, walking around to open her door.
Once she’s down, I open the backseat and grab the blankets and pillows I packed earlier—too many, probably, but I didn’t know how to do this halfway. Her eyes widen as I haul the stack out, and the sight punches a little warmth into my chest.
Then I lower the tailgate and start arranging everything in the truck bed, spreading the blankets into a soft little nest and propping the iPad against a pillow. The clearing settles around us like it’s ours alone.
When I turn, she’s staring at me like I just rewired the stars.
“I wanted it to be comfortable,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “For you.”
She climbs up without hesitation, settles into the blankets, and holds her hand out for me to join her.
My chest twists.
I climb in beside her, leaning back against the cushions. The breeze carries her scent directly into my lungs, sweet and warm and softly spiked with interest.
We pick a movie, and she curls on her side to face me.
It takes all of two minutes for the talking to start.
Real talking.
About things I never say out loud—pressure from the league, the fear of being replaced, the guilt over how I handled things with Gina, how tired I am of carrying around the version of myself who screwed everything up.
I hear myself telling her things I haven’t even admitted to Milton and Lincoln.
She listens the whole time. No judgment. No pity. Just quiet understanding.
At one point I say something self-deprecating, and she actually smacks my chest for it.
I laugh.
And the way her eyes soften… fuck, something in me comes undone.
She inches closer until her knee brushes my thigh. Her fingers graze my forearm, tracing a line up toward my elbow.
Her scent flares—sweet, heart-hitting, impossible to ignore.
Heat curls low in my stomach.
“Bayleigh,” I say.
She looks up into my eyes, and something primal inside me shifts. I lift my hand to her jaw, thumb brushing the soft edge of her cheek. Her breath catches, chest rising in a trembling inhale.
Her slick’s scent drifts between us, subtle but undeniable.
Her eyes flick down to my mouth.
I lean in?—
Then freeze.
What if I ruin this?
What if I’m misreading her?
What if I’m too much, too soon?—?
She solves it by closing the last inch. Her lips meet mine. It’s soft at first. Then I answer by sliding my hands to the back of her neck, pulling her in gently, deepening the kiss until her breath shivers against mine. Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding on like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
