Walked right into that one.
“He never comes out,” Jesse says, trying to smooth it over with a casual shrug. “Doesn’t hit the bars. Doesn’t hang out with the group much.”
“Never chats with the fans,” Carter adds. “Even the really aggressive ones. It’s like he’s allergic to attention.”
Naomi’s smile falters a little. She busies herself with her glass, but her heart’s already tugging.
She says nothing, but Carter must see something flicker across her face, because his tone softens.
“Hey,” he says, nudging her knee under the table. “It’s not about you.”
Naomi looks up.
“He’s…working through some stuff,” Carter says, his warm brown eyes crinkling with concern. “The guy’s got his demons. You brushed up against one.”
Naomi swallows. She doesn’t trust herself to answer. Just nods and lets the noise of the bar wrap around her again.
They finish their beers, laughter tapering into something easier. Carter mimics one of their coach’s pre-game speeches, and Jesse loses it again, nearly knocking over his glass. Naomi listens, smiling, but quieter now.
When they finally step outside, the cold hits her face like a wake-up call. The street’s quiet, the air crisp, headlights flashing in the distance.
Naomi hugs her coat tighter around herself. She feels different from when the night began. Not fixed. Not fine.
But not unraveling, either.
“Thanks for taking me out,” she says. “Really.”
“Anytime,” Jesse grins, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”
“No need,” a deep voice cuts in from behind them.
Naomi stops short, her feet refusing to carry her forward as her mind struggles to catch up. Her stomach drops with the nauseating velocity of free fall, from wanting something and fearing it in equal, desperate measure.
She turns—and Tall is there.
Standing in shadow outside the bar’s entrance, like he’s been waiting there in the cold. His hoodie is zipped up beneath his black coat, shoulders hunched slightly. His signature gray beanie is pulled low over his messy blond waves, strands escaping at the edges in a way that makes him look younger, more vulnerable. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and his face is unreadable except for one thing—those stormy blue eyes locked on hers like she’s the only person on the street.
Her breath catches, tangling somewhere in her throat where her snappy comebacks used to live.
He looks like hell. And not because he’s unkempt. But he’s tense, like every part of him is fraying under the surface. His cheeks are red from the cold, flushed with it in a way that makes the rest of his face seem paler, more drawn, and his jaw is clenched like he’s holding back every feeling he’s got.
“I can, uh,” he starts, then clears his throat. “I can take you back. If that’s okay.”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a tiny tell that betrays his nerves.
She doesn’t look at Jesse or Carter. She doesn’t need to. She nods, because her mouth isn’t ready to cooperate yet.
Jesse squeezes her arm once before following Carter down the block, their shapes melting into the shadows between streetlights.
Naomi stays where she is for a beat, watching Tall like he might disappear if she moves too fast. He doesn’t. He waits.
She walks toward him, one slow step at a time, heart thudding so loud she’s surprised the whole street doesn’t hear it. When she stops in front of him, he looks at her like he’s trying to figure out how to say something.
Instead, he jerks his head toward the parking lot.
“My truck’s this way,” he says.
She follows him, hands buried in her coat pockets, eyes flicking to the back of his neck, the way his shoulders seem even broader under the tension.
