Because looking at her now—peaceful and safe and mine—I know I’m already in too deep to walk away.
Chapter Forty-One: Zephyr
Jax won’t stop giving me shit about my ankle.
“Convenient,” he says for the third time this morning while throwing his duffel bag into the trunk. “Real fucking convenient.”
“It’s not convenient. I’m injured and can’t fucking play.”
“Right. Injured.” Callum makes air quotes around the word. “A day before an away game.”
“I twisted it during practice. Coach saw it happen. It was a stupid mistake.”
“Coach also said you could probably play through it,” Jax adds, slamming the trunk closed.
“But why would I risk making it worse?” I lean against the car, keeping weight off my left foot. “We have playoffs coming up. Better to rest it now than fuck it up for the rest of the season.”
“Sure,” Callum says, grinning. “Has nothing to do with getting to stay here alone with Tiger.”
My face heats up. “That’s not—”
“You’re turning into a lobster,” Jax observes.
“Fuck you.”
“You are.” Callum laughs. “Look, I’m not judging. If I had a convenient injury, I’d be staying back too.”
“Fuck off already.”
Jax studies me for a long moment. His jaw is tight. “Just... be careful.”
“Of what?”
“You know what.”
Callum claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That leaves a lot of options,” I mutter.
They both climb into Jax’s car. I step back from the curb, watching them pull away. Jax gives me one last look through the rearview mirror before they turn the corner and disappear.
I stand there for a second. Then I can’t help it—I smile.
Because I am injured. My ankle does hurt. But yeah, okay, maybe I’m a little excited about having the house to myself with Tiger for the next day and a half.
I head back inside. She’s in the kitchen making coffee.
“What time is the game tonight?” she asks without turning around.
“Game’s at seven tonight.”
She nods, pours two cups, and hands me one. “Are we planning to watch it?”
I nod. “Yeah, we can watch it. How are you feeling?” I ask. “About today?”
She’s meeting with Marcus this afternoon. But she’s been quiet about it. She’s not avoiding the topic exactly, just not bringing it up.
“Nervous,” she admits. “Scared. I don’t know what to expect.”
