Finn’s nowhere in sight now, vanished into the shadows. But I know he saw her.
And I know she saw him.
She doesn’t look back, though. Just keeps walking toward the entrance, head high. Ready to face whatever happens next.
CHAPTER 73
Willow
The hotel roomis exactly what I expected—sleek, high-end, and way too expensive for a derby trip. Polished concrete floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a row of palm trees, and the kind of minimalist decor that screams corporate money. Dad booked the entire floor for the team, of course. Privacy, security, and a subtle reminder that he’s still pulling strings—even when he says he’s not.
After dropping bags and swapping travel clothes for swimsuits, we regroup in the hotel restaurant. Daisy orders nachos big enough to feed an entire pack. Knox gets into a heated argument with Cheese over salsa spice levels, while Twinkle claims two desserts before we’ve even made it through the mains.
It’s easy. Fun. Even with Landon there.
He’s eased into the team better than I expected. They don’t forget the history—especially not with me—but they trust him with the game. Trust him to help them improve. And it shows in the way they talk to him. Joke with him. Tease him about drills and strategy and his lack of flexibility.
Sure, they toss me the occasional side-eye. Daisy makesexaggerated crackling sounds, ready to break his kneecaps if he so much as blinks wrong in my direction—but I think they can feel it too. The shift. The way I don’t flinch anymore when he’s close. The way we talk.
Even Carson, Graham, and Hunter seem more relaxed. It feels like an actual vacation. A rare breath of air before we hit the fire of Nationals.
When we finally make it down to the pool, the mood is loose and full of laughter.
“Last one in buys breakfast,” Knox calls, already sprinting toward the edge.
We trail behind her—bare feet slapping cool concrete, towels slung over shoulders, full and a little tired from the day. The pool glows soft and blue under the string lights, shadows dancing across the surface. Palm trees rustle in the warm breeze. The air smells of chlorine, faint salt, and something citrusy from a candle burning near the cabanas. The hot tub is set apart—nestled behind low hedges, the water bubbling and steaming, tucked just far enough to feel private.
I dive into the pool first, the shock of it stealing my breath and snapping me fully awake. It’s glorious. Clean. Cold. I break the surface laughing, already paddling into a loose lap. Daisy tries to race me and wipes out halfway through, her flailing limbs making more splash than speed.
The guys take their time. Graham eases in slowly, settling into the shallow end with a sigh as though he’s got fifty years in his joints. Hunter dunks me without warning, then hauls me back up, water streaming from my hair as I sputter and curse him. Carson cannonballs in with zero warning, drenching all of us.
Eventually, the lure of the hot tub wins.
“I’m going in,” I announce, wringing water from my hair. “My muscles are not ready for tomorrow without some kind of bribe.”
“It’s a thousand degrees in there,” Cheese groans from a lounger, sipping a mocktail with a slice of pineapple. “You’re insane.”
“Melting is my brand,” I toss over my shoulder, grabbing a towel as I pad toward the bubbling water in the corner.
The stone is warm underfoot, the air thick with heat as I step into the tub slowly. The water wraps around my legs, hot and soothing, pulling a sigh from deep in my chest. Every inch of me aches, and the jets bite into sore muscles in the best possible way.
I sink in up to my shoulders and close my eyes, letting the heat do its magic.
The team’s still loud across the pool, voices rising and falling in waves. Someone screams about cannonballs. Someone threatens to launch a flip-flop. I smile, eyes still shut, letting the chaos blur into background noise.
Footsteps approach—soft but confident. A towel hits the lounge chair nearby with a quiet thump.
“You’re seriously not boiling alive in there?” Landon’s voice slides across the water.
I smirk without opening my eyes. “Maybe I like to suffer.”
“Sounds about right,” he says, and there’s that familiar edge of humor in his voice. “Mind if I join?”
“It’s a free country.” I crack one eye open. “Though you might regret it.”
He steps in slowly on the far side, teeth gritted, breath catching when the water hits his thighs. “Holy hell. This is going to melt my skin off.”
“Told you.”
