The locker room collectively groans.
Then the door opens again. A tall guy walks in carrying a Seattle Vengeance gear bag. He has dark hair, a sharp jaw, and a confident posture.
I recognize him right away.
Easton Wilde. The right winger recently drafted from Seattle.
And unfortunately for him, former teammate of Landon Cross.
My mood darkens.
Easton glances around the room before his eyes land on me. Recognition flashes in them. “Guyer.”
“Wilde.”
Connor’s eyes dart between us. “Ohhhhhh,” he whispers.
I flash Connor a look. For once, he listens and shuts his big mouth.
Easton drops his bag into the empty stall beside Jake’s. “Good to finally be here.”
Coach points toward him. “Wilde played top-line minutes in Seattle. Fast hands. Good instincts. Try not to corrupt him.”
“No promises,” Cole says.
Easton smirks slightly, then looks back at me. “Didn’t expect your offseason to become national entertainment.”
Connor starts choking.
Jake makes a wounded noise.
Ford physically turns away to hide his laughter.
I stare at Easton. “Careful. You’re not off to a good start with me.”
His brows lift slightly. Not challenging, just surprised.
I realize how insane I probably sound. But when it comes to Peyton, I can’t help myself.
Easton studies me for another second before understanding flickers across his face.
Oh. He knows exactly why I reacted.And somehow that irritates me even more.
He leans against his stall casually. “Cross was a nightmare in Seattle.”
The room stills.
My jaw tightens.
Easton continues calmly. “Nobody liked him.”
Something cold twists through my chest. Because hearing someone else confirm it makes everything Peyton survived feel even more real somehow.
Connor’s expression shifts subtly, too, becoming more serious.
Easton glances toward me carefully. “For what it’s worth… she seems happier here.”
My pulse kicks hard against my ribs.
