"Good for you. Keep it up and one day, you may be in the big leagues!"
Bryce ruffles his hair gently, and the kid beams like he’s been handed the moon.
The man nods, grateful, and leads his son away, the kid bouncing like Christmas came early.
And I hate it.
Because watching him be soft, gentle and good with kids?
It turns something molten in my chest.
I cross my arms tighter. "Just stick to the schedule, Blackhorn."
He looks at me again, softer this time.
"I will," he says. "But if you want to walk with me instead of hiding behind that folder… you can."
My stomach flips.
I pretend to scan the event map.
"I’m not hiding. I’m working. There’s a difference."
"Sure," he says, amused. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
I exhale through my nose. "Bryce?"
"Yeah?"
"Behave."
His smile deepens and it’s slow, wicked, and annoyingly confident.
"Make me."
***
So far, so good with mild chaos happening at the team's booth area. To be expected, of course.
Dex attempts glow-stick juggling and drops all seventeen. Eli pretend argues loudly with a six-year-old about whether penguins can play hockey. Colby begins signing merch withXO, future trophy husband,and is now banned from the Sharpies.
Bryce is running a slapshot booth for kids.
Every time a puck trickles into the net, he cheers like it’s the Stanley Cup winner. Parents adore him. Kids worship him. And me?
I watch from a safe distance. Pretending.
Pretending my pulse isn’t misbehaving. Pretending I didn’t memorize that kiss. Pretending he isn’t undoing every rule I swore I lived by.
***
And then I see him. And he sees me.
Mark.
Standing near the stage. Guitar strapped over his shoulder. Backup singers clustered around him. Fans already recognizing him.
My stomach drops.
