"Silas, that's ridiculous. I make more when you make more..."
"Do you?" I grip the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles go white. "Or is there another reason you want my contract value lower? Something you're not telling me?"
Silence. It stretches on, too long and heavy.
"I'll call you back when I have more information." He hangs up before I can respond.
I sit there in my truck with my pulse pounding in my ears, pieces falling into place like a puzzle I should have solved months ago. Enzo's been sabotaging me. Feeding the organization doubts about my age, my injuries, my value as a player. Driving my price down deliberately.
But why? What does he gain from lowering my contract value when his commission goes down too?
I don't know yet. But I will. I'll figure it out and then I'll burn him for it.
When I finally drive home, Scout's in the kitchen when I walk in. She's wearing black yoga pants and an oversized gray Havoc sweatshirt, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, face scrubbed clean of makeup. Those dark blonde curls escape in soft tendrils around her face, making her look younger somehow. Her green eyes are soft, unguarded in the quiet of the morning.
The gray sweatshirt hangs off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and that delicate collarbone I want to trace with my fingers. Her lips are bare, pink and full without any gloss. She's beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache. Comfortable and real and completely unaware of what seeing her like this does to me.
She looks comfortable, like she belongs here in my space. Glancing up when I walk in, she smiles. "Hey. How was your day?"
"Fine." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Her smile fades. Those green eyes see too much. "You don't look fine."
"I'm handling it."
She sets her mug down carefully on the counter. That look she gets when she's trying to figure out an injury crosses her face. "Silas. Talk to me."
I shrug a shoulder. "There's nothing to talk about."
"That's bullshit. You've been wound tight since we came back from Vashon. Something's wrong and you won't tell me what it is."
I should walk away. Work through it myself until I have a solution or at least a plan. But I'm tired. So fucking tired of carrying everything by myself.
"Enzo's screwing me on my contract." The words come out rougher than I intend. "Deliberately driving my value down with the organization. I don't know why yet, but he is."
Scout's face hardens. "That bastard."
"Yeah."
"What are you going to do?"
"Fire him. As soon as I can afford to." I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "But he's got his hooks into me deep. Deals in motion, endorsements that'll fall through if I walk away. He built a cage around me. I hate that I didn't even notice until I was already locked inside."
She moves close enough that I can smell her shampoo, that lavender and eucalyptus that's become familiar. "You'll figure it out. You're smarter than he is."
"Am I?" The question comes out sounding bitter and self-loathing. "Right now it feels like I'm drowning and he's the one holding my head under water."
Her hand finds mine on the counter. She twines herfingers with mine. Hers are small and warm and steady in a way that makes my chest ache.
The contact hits me like a physical blow. I haven't let anyone hold my hand since I was a kid. It's too intimate, too vulnerable. It feels like admitting I need something.
But Scout's fingers lace through mine like it's the most natural thing in the world and suddenly I can't remember why I've been avoiding this. Her palm is warm against mine, her grip firm but gentle. Every point where our skin connects sends heat radiating up my arm. I want to pull her closer, wrap her entire body against mine, feel her everywhere.
Fuck, I want to hold her hand like this all the time. Walking down the street, sitting on the couch, falling asleep at night. The simple touch grounds me in a way I didn't know I needed. It makes me feel less alone for the first time in years.
Something in my chest eases. Not much, just enough to let me breathe a little deeper.
"My mom did the same thing," I hear myself say. The words just fall out, bypassing every filter I usually keep in place. "Built a cage. She stole from me and Hunter for years. We didn't even know until it was too late."
