I glanced at him. He was pulling on his jeans, not looking at me. “What wasn't?”
“The photoshoot. You didn't look like you wanted to murder anyone. Progress.”
“I rarely want to murder anyone.”
“Your face tells a different story.” He zipped his jeans and reached for his jacket. “But seriously, that went better than I thought it would. Taylor made it pretty painless.”
I finished buttoning my shirt and tucked it in. “It was fine.”
“Just fine?” He turned to face me, grinning. “Come on, Coach. You can admit you had a little bit of fun.”
I pulled on my jacket, considering. Then, in the flattest, most grim tone I could manage: “I had fun.”
Hartley laughed. “You sound like you're confessing to a crime.”
“It wasn't my preferred way to spend an afternoon.”
“But you survived. And hey, maybe you'll end up looking good in the photos.” He grabbed his team bag. “Though I'm definitely going to look better.”
“Your ego's showing, Hartley.”
“It's not ego if it's true.” He headed for the door, then paused and looked back. “Thanks for doing this. I know I strong-armed you into it, but still. It was cool having you there.”
I nodded once. “The charity matters.”
“Yeah. It does.” He smiled, smaller this time, more genuine. “Alright, Coach. Let's get out of here before Taylor decides he needs more shots.”
“Agreed.”
We walked out together. June was waiting by the door, phone in hand, looking like she was ready to get back to the office.
“All set?” she asked.
“All set,” Hartley confirmed. His voice was perfectly normal. Professional.
I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just nodded.
The ride back to the facility was quiet. June took a call about upcoming press events. Hartley stared out the window. I sat in the passenger seat and tried not to replay every moment of that photoshoot.
CHAPTER 9
SAFE ZONE
JACE
Mom's lasagna smelled exactly like it always did—garlic, oregano, that slightly burnt edge where the cheese crisped up against the pan. The scent hit me the second I walked through the front door, and something in my chest unclenched for the first time in days.
“Jace!” Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her whole face lighting up the way it only did for me and my sister. “You're early! I thought you said six.”
“Traffic was lighter than I expected.” I dropped my bag by the door and let her pull me into a hug. She was small, barely came up to my shoulder, but she squeezed hard enough that I felt it in my ribs.
I hugged her back and tried not to hold on too long. I tried not to let her feel how much I'd needed this.
She pulled back and gave me that mom look. “You look tired.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're not sleeping.”
