CHAPTER 29
Landon
I shouldn’t still feelthis way. Not when she’s moved on. Not when I just told her I was happy for her.
I meant it, too.
Even though it fucking guts me.
I watch as Willow skates back onto the rink, effortlessly slipping back into her role with the team. She’s fast. Sharp. One of the most aggressive jammers I’ve ever seen. It’s easy to see why they’re headed for Nationals—she’s a force, and she makes them better.
And I have to focus on that. Not the scent of her skin. Not the way she looked at me just now, something unreadable in her expression when she asked me to stay. Not the way she still feels like mine—even though I lost the right to claim that when I kissed Dee.
I take a steady breath, planting my feet at the edge of the rink, my voice firm as I call out. “Jinx, tighten your core when you take those hits—you’re burning too much energy trying to muscle through them.”
She shoots me a look but adjusts anyway, spinning on her skates to weave through the pack.
Good.
At least she’s listening.
The rest of the team isn’t shy about their skepticism toward me, but they listen, too. I call out corrections, pushing them to be more controlled in their movements, more calculated in their strategy. I know this sport. I might’ve given it up, but I never stopped loving it.
I also know when someone’s about to take a bad fall.
“Jinx—inside!”
Willow’s already pivoting, but not fast enough. The blocker slams into her, sending her skidding sideways toward the edge of the track.
I don’t think.
I move.
I’m already there when she stumbles off balance, my hands catching her waist, steadying her before she can hit the floor.
Fucking hell.
She’s hot under my palms, skin damp with sweat, her scent hitting me hard—straight to the gut, no mercy. For one brutal second I let myself feel it. The way she fits against me. The way it used to be so damn easy to touch her. To take her.
She sucks in a breath, her pulse hammering at the base of her throat. “Didn’t need you to catch me,” she mutters, but it’s breathless.
I smirk because some things never change. “Didn’t say you did.”
I should let her go. But my fingers tighten before I make myself step back.
“Your footwork’s good,” I say, forcing my voice into something neutral. “But you’re relying on instinct. Start thinking two moves ahead.”
Her eyes narrow, still trying to figure me out. I don’t give her the chance.
I turn back toward the rest of the team, my chest aching with something I don’t have time to deal with. I meant what I said. I am happy for her. And I’ll keep telling myself that until I believe it.
After practice,Willow lingers. Just for a second.
Her lips part, and she almost—almost—reaches for me. A flicker of hesitation, the kind that could mean everything or nothing at all. But it’s enough. Enough to make my breath catch, my pulse pound.
Does she still?—?
Before I can find out, he’s there.
