I save Jax Mercer for last because I would still like to preserve at least one molecule of self-respect if possible. That effort fails almost immediately. I tell her about the way he moved on the ice this morning and hate myself for how specific I get.
Dina finishes eating, offers no emotional support whatsoever, and disappears into the dark like a tiny, underfed therapist with terrible boundaries.
I sit on the step for a while.
I’m used to that.
Chapter three
Jax
She’sattheglassagain.
Third time in twenty minutes. Not that I’m tracking it.
I face the net and run the drill.
My defense reads the play, adjusts, executes. They’re sharp because I’m sharp. That’s how this works. Always has. Nobody says it out loud.
I hold the line. That’s the job.
Reporter’s at the glass. Recorder out. Notebook open. Taking everything in.
I face the net. Do the job.
She moves from the glass to the bench and turns just enough for me to get a clean look at her face.
Wait.
Dark curls. Green eyes.
No fucking way.
That’s—
Jesus Christ.
Grocery store girl.
What the hell is she doing here?
I face the net. Do the job.
She’s got Brody backed against the boards and he’s already telling her shit he has no business telling her. I can see his hands going from the crease. Give Brody half a reason and he’ll talk himself into trouble.
She moves on from Brody to Sebastian and Caleb, recorder out, notebook open, getting what she needs without ever looking rushed. Then Liam, somehow, which I clock mostly because getting anything useful out of Liam is usually a minor miracle.
Me?
Nothing.
She doesn’t come near me. Doesn’t even fake it. Just works the room like I’m not standing ten feet away.
That gets under my skin faster than it should.
I reset in the crease.
I keep waiting for her to circle back.
