Page 181 of Hard Pass

Silence eats up the night as we stare at the stars.

“Need a little peace and quiet before the chaos of Los Angeles?” I joke.

“Something like that,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“I wish I could go to the game but with Marcus’s meeting with the NFL coming up, it’s probably best if I lay low.”

“I agree.”

“At least Tristan will be there,” I say, more to fill the quiet than anything. “Convenient timing that he suddenly has business meetings in L.A. the same week as your game.”

“Guy’s got business everywhere,” he murmurs.

That tone gives me pause.

Something I don’t quite catch but before I can ask, another plane takes off, pulling our attention to the sky.

“I grew up about three hours from here,” he says. “There was a small airstrip like this and sometimes after games, I’d just go lie there for hours and watch the planes take off and land. As long as I was there, I wasn’t home on the receiving end of my critique. I’d imagine where each plane was going and all the places I’d go if I got the chance.”

“Where did you imagine?” I ask.

“College. The NFL. Those were the places I was going if I got the chance. Such a narrow-minded view but I was young and just needed a dream to hold on to.”

“I like that,” I say and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, before setting my cheek on his chest.

“I’m going to make this right, Dublin.” He runs a hand up and down my back. “My name’s going to be cleared, and you’re going to get your job back.”

I smile softly because even if it can’t happen, he means it. He believes it. And I love that that’s how he thinks.

He tightens his arm around me, and side by side, with the sky above us and his heart beating against my cheek, we relax. Despite the question marks and turmoil, in this moment, I feel . . . content.

For a few hours, there’s no investigation. No pressure. No questions I can’t answer.

It’s just Cole and me in a field beneath the stars.

His hand in mine. His heartbeat steady.

About as simple as it can get.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Cole

I hate this.

That’s the first thing that settles in my chest as I push open the door to the hotel lounge. Not nerves. Not pressure. Not even the game tomorrow. Just the quiet gnawing certainty that I’m about to test someone I’ve trusted for years.

Fuck. This sucks.

But I have to be fair. I tested Mal. I have to test Jax and Tristan—even though I already know the answer. It’s not any of them.

The space is dim, low-lit, built for late-night conversations or people who want to stay in its shadows. There are a few scattered guests and a television playing low for background noise.

Tristan’s already here. He raises a hand to get my attention from his corner table, looking relaxed with one ankle crossed over his knee, a beer in his hand, and one on the small table for me. His business shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and he looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Like he’s always looked.

“About time, brother. I was starting to think you bailed on me,” he says when I take a seat opposite him with my back to the wall.