I cross my arms, holding myself together. “What happens after Nationals?”
Landon laughs under his breath, the sound low, bitter. He shakes his head, eyes soft in a way that cuts. “I was never staying forever, Willow.”
My stomach tightens. His words settle over me.
I drop my arms, trying to act unaffected. “So what? You just showed up to remind me you exist and then bail?”
His lips pull into a half-smile, but it’s not smug. It’s sad.
“I came because I wanted to see you,” he admits, almost hesitantly. “And because—” He rubs the back of his neck, exhaling. “Because if I could help you win Nationals, then maybe…I could make up for something. Even if it’s small. But you made it clear that I did too much damage…and I don’t want to cause you more pain.”
Something catches in my throat. I should be furious. I should tell him to go to hell. But I don’t. Because that’s not what this is. His regret is real.
His love—whether it matters or not anymore—is real, too.
“Winning Nationals isn’t going to erase the past,” I tell him.
His gaze flickers over my face, and for a split second, I think he might break. That his mask might slip completely.
“I know,” he says. “But maybe it can fix some of what I broke.”
Something warm and treacherous slides through mychest. Before I can make sense of it, Landon shifts. His hands bury in his pockets, his jaw tight, fighting to stay composed.
“I meant what I said,” he goes on. “I’m happy for you. And if they make you happy—” his chin jerks toward the three furious alphas hovering just out of earshot, “—then I won’t get in the way. I can walk right now, if that’s what you want.”
I swallow hard, nails biting into my palms.
“Stay,” I hear myself say. “Help us get to Nationals.”
Landon freezes. The words hit him, knock the ground out from under him. His blue eyes lock on mine, disbelief sparking before something heavier, harder to name, takes its place.
I can’t believe I just said that. I don’t take it back.
He wets his lips, gaze flicking to my bodyguards, bracing for impact, waiting for them to storm over and drag him out. Honestly? They might. But right now, this is mine to decide.
“I thought you didn’t want me here,” he says.
I hold his stare. No wavering. No overthinking.
“I don’t know what I want.” The honesty burns on my tongue. “But I do know you’re good at this.” I motion toward the rink. I saw it today, even in the short time he’s been here. “And I know you want to help.”
Landon doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Then, slow, careful, he nods.
“Okay,” he murmurs, testing the word, tasting it.
The tension snaps behind me, sharp and vicious, a live wire sparking. Graham’s growl rumbles across the space, low and dangerous. Apparently, they were close enough to hear every damn word.
Hunter mutters, low and lethal, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Carson blows out a sharp breath, then forces a laugh—caught between pissed and impressed.
Landon’s jaw locks, but he doesn’t so much as glance their way. His eyes stay on me.
I’m the only thing that matters.
I’m the one who just shifted the ground under all of us.
And maybe I really did. But fuck if I know what that means.
