“Give it five minutes,” Jake adds. “It’ll double once you add one of your stupid comments.”
“Hey,” Chase protests. “My comments arewitty.”
“They are all just suggestive emojis,” Viktor says from my left, his eyes on Heidi across the room. “And you use too many of them.”
Chase jabs a finger at him. “You hearted it! That means you liked it!”
Jake steps in close and bumps my shoulder with his, ignoring Jekyll and Hyde beside us entirely. “You wanna explain how you turned a medical fundraiser into an All-Star Weekend?”
“I didn’t,” I say. “The mascots did.”
Jake snorts. “Right. And here I thought you’d finally gone soft.”
“Don’t spread rumors.”
A couple of the Miners guys drift over then, still laughing about the Dynamite mascot’s breakdancing. One of them claps me on the back hard enough that I have to adjust my stance.
“Hutchy baby,” he says. “Heard your knee’s on the mend.”
“Depends who’s asking.”
He grins. “I’m asking as someone who’s blown out an ACL twice. Rehab sucks.”
“It’s a character-building experience,” I say. “Or so I’m told.”
From behind him, the Denver Dynamite captain appears with an amused smile. “I hear you’re the one responsible for that circus?”
“Allegedly.”
She laughs. “Best fundraiser I’ve been to in years. If these mascot dance-offs become a regular thing, I’m blaming you.”
“Happy to take the heat.”
Chase holds up his phone as evidence. “You broke the internet, bro. The Dynamite mascot did a body roll. Abody roll. In cleats!”
“Technically not my fault,” I mutter.
Jake snorts into his drink. “Youinvited them.”
“Didn’t tell them to hump the air in front of the donation box.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Chase says, shaking his head. “Zoe said online donations spiked fifteen percent in under ten minutes once she loaded the reel.”
I shake my head, taking another sip of my beer. I lean harder against the high-top and let the rhythm of the banter settle around me. I should feel good about this. The turnout’s solid, and the donation total keeps ticking up every few minutes.
But I’m not really here.
I’m stuck back in that hallway with the weight of Carina Park leaning into me. The scent of her perfume, the sharp catch in her breath right before she pulled away.
And the look on her face when she left—like she was mad at herself for almost wanting it.
Fuck, I want her to want it.
The banter flows easily, loud and familiar and blessedly distracting, which is good. I let the noise carry me, let the jokes land where they land. I even laugh when Chase starts loudly bidding on what is supposed to be another silent auction item.
But I keep clocking the room without meaning to, skimming over faces and bodies until I find her again.
Carina stands near the edge of the crowd with a glass in hand, her hair more loose around her shoulders now. She looks different without the tight focus she wears at the clinic, or the stress she had about reaching the goal tonight.
