"I think I have to forgive him eventually." My cheeks grow warm. "I love him. Even if right now, I'm so mad I could spit."
"Well, your bed is still made at the apartment," Jessa points out. "And you're welcome to crash at Juliet's guest room tonight."
"I feel so left out." Wren wrinkles her nose. "Just because my husband is one of the coaches doesn't mean that you can't stay with us."
I can't help but smile. "Thanks, ladies. I really needed some girl time."
Jessa picks up the wine I brought. "I'm going to pour us each a glass."
"Oh! None for me." Wren blushes and bites her lip. "Ryan and I decided to try to start our family."
"Wren!" I look at her, grinning. "That's amazing!"
"Thanks. It's very exciting. Plus, it's..." Wren turns as red as a tomato. "Fun? To try?"
"We need to toast." Juliet pops up from the couch. "I have some sparkling cider. Let me get some glasses."
I look around the room and feel grateful that these are my friends.
Chapter Thirty
Silas
The film room feels too small even though I'm the only one in it. My hands won't stop moving, rewinding the same play over and over like studying tape will somehow fix what happened with Scout only hours ago.
Twelve hours since she walked out with an overnight bag.
Twelve hours since I watched her drive away.
I switch to a different game, pretending to analyze the opposing team's power play formation. But Scout's face keeps replacing the players on screen. The way she held herself so still when she said she needed space.
Not breaking up. Just… she needed space. Space means she's still considering us, right? She’s not done with me yet? God I hope not.
My fingers drum against the desk, then move to the remote, then back to the desk. The urge to break something hums under my skin, not from anger but from fear that's eating me alive from the inside out.
Scout didn't give me anything to fight. She just asked for space and left.
"You look like shit." Hunter's voice cuts through the silence. I didn't hear him come in, but suddenly he's there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
"Fuck off," I mutter, but there's no heat behind it.
He walks in anyway, because Hunter's never met a boundary he respects when it comes to family. Jett follows him, then Beck, and finally Thorne. They don't hover or corner me, just spread out around the room like they're claiming territory.
"Early morning film session?" Jett asks, sprawling in a chair.
I don't answer. My jaw works like I'm grinding glass between my teeth.
Beck snorts. "Right. Because you're definitely watching that tape and not just sitting here spiraling."
"Leave it alone," I warn.
"What'd you do?" Thorne kicks his feet up on the desk. "Hunter said Scout stayed in his spare room last night."
Her name hits me like a check into the boards. My whole body goes rigid, and something must show on my face because Hunter straightens up.
"What happened?" he asks. “She wasn’t exactly talkative.”
The words stick in my throat. I can't tell them about StatMan or the app or the months of lying. But the truth forces its way out anyway, stripped down to the simplest version.
