During our first water break, I drift toward the benches, wiping sweat from my brow when his voice wraps around me.
“You’re dipping your right shoulder too early on your cutbacks.”
I stiffen, my wheels slowing, my chest tightening.
I glance to the side, and there he is, gliding effortlessly beside me, helmet tucked under his arm, that same lopsided smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. A reminder of everything I can’t forget.
“Right,” I say slowly, blinking at him. “Thanks.”
“I’ve been watching the tapes,” he says, voice casual. The way he says it—low, deliberate—hooks something deep inside me. Something that tugs at me, even as I try to ignore it.
I blink again. “Tapes?”
He shrugs. “Your games. From regionals. States. Even some of the older ones—last year’s qualifiers. You’ve always had instinct, but now...” His gaze cuts to mine, more serious now. “Now you’re sharp. You’re dangerous out there.”
My stomach flips.
Because he didn’t even know I played when we were together. He knew roller derby was something I did, but not that I lived and breathed it. Not that it owned me the way it does. Not that I’ve fought tooth and nail to make this team something real. I never even talked about it on Omega in Paradise, preferring to keep that part of me off of the show.
“You...watched my games?” I ask, breath catching on the words.
“Every single one I could find,” he admits, softer now. “I didn’t know how serious you were about it before. I should have. That’s on me.”
Something in my chest pulls tight. Because this doesn’t feel like a line. Doesn’t feel as if he’s trying to sweep in with flowers and charm and fix everything with a kiss.
He studied me. He paid attention—after. When he thought he’d already blown it. When he believed he had no right to know me anymore.
And now he’s here.
My chest tightens with emotions, but this time it’s not just nerves. It’s something quieter. Something honest.
The truth? I went after him hard. I convinced myself it was fate, let myself believe in the way he looked at me, touched me, and spun promises about the future.
Yeah, he was the playboy. But I didn’t care. I dove headfirst into the fire without checking if it would burn.
And when it did, I put it all on him. Every scar. Every broken piece.
Maybe I wasn’t just the one who got hurt. Maybe I helped set the whole thing on fire.
And now...he’s trying. Really trying. Not with grand gestures, but with something real.
“Thanks,” I murmur again, heavier this time. It’s not just about my skating, it’s about all of it. Watching me. Seeing me now. Making me feel I’m not insane for still wanting him.
Making me wonder if this—us—could ever be more than the mistake I swore I’d never repeat.
He nods, then starts to coast away, but not before adding—“You’re better now. Stronger. And it isn’t only skating. They’re good for you. Those three.”
I stand there, rooted in place, watching him go.
My heart stutters. Because he’s right. I am stronger now. Not because of my bodyguards, but because he hardened my heart when he broke it. And that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
“You okay?”
The voice is low. Familiar. Steady.
Hunter.
I don’t need to turn to know it’s him, but I do anyway. He’s standing just behind me, arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained on Landon’s retreating form with a quiet intensity that makes the air feel tighter.
