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“Hey Grant!”

I walk backward toward my bench as Atlas turns around, noting the confusion in his expression. “Don’t let your meat loaf.”

Atlas smiles, his whole face lighting up as he shakes his head. “Sure thing, Myers. Don’t let your milk spoil.”

Just like it did in that moment on the field, it feels like someone’s curling their hand around my heart and squeezing until it hurts.

The exchange lasted less than a minute, but it was enough to derail me.

And we lost the game.

People wonder why I refuse to let anything steal my focus.

For a moment, I’d actually wondered if that had been Atlas’s plan. Only I know him better than that. He’s not that guy.

The loss is on me.

After coach Pierce’s postgame grilling, I jump in the shower, then head over to our media liaison, Keeley, when I’m done.

“Where do you need me?” I ask, facing the inevitable.

Her eyes widen for the briefest of seconds before she schools her features. I’m usually on top of it all. I know where I have to be and when, but today, I’m out of sorts.

“Lulu wants to chat, and she’s likely to bring up your connection to Atlas. It’s a hot topic. The two of you looked pretty friendly before the game. But I’m well aware things aren’t always as they seem.” She smiles supportively and I nod in return.

I learned pretty quickly after starting with the Storm that Keeley’s like a mother to the guys. If one of us is having a bad day, she knows what to say. If we need advice, she’s got us covered. If someone messes with her boys, she’s a badass who gets things done.

She saw through me after only a few interactions, and it was actually nice not to have to keep up the charade all the time.

She’s a force, that’s for sure.

I have no doubt she’d even go to bat for us against our team owner, who also happens to be her boyfriend.

If I asked to leave right now, without fulfilling my media commitments, she’d probably let me. But I’d never do that; this is all part of the job.

“Atlas and I are good. We’re attending a wedding together this weekend. And we played against each other last year.”

“The wedding. That’s right. I heard you were playing hooky.”

My composure slips and I grip the back of my neck. “That’s not⁠—”

“It’s okay, Beckett.” Keeley curls her hand around my arm. “I’m teasing. As for the interview... Do you need me to run interference? I’m happy to ask her to stay away from the personal questions.”

“Nah, that’s okay. Football is personal to me. They’re all personal questions.”

“I like the way you think. Give me a wave if it’s getting too much and I’ll step in.”

“Thanks, Keeley.”

“You’re welcome.”

I turn to walk away until she calls out to stop me. “We’ll get them next time. I know it.” She winks and I can’t help but chuckle.

She’s right. We will. I won’t let it end any other way.

We lost one game. We still have a shot to make it all the way.

Lulu’s all smiles when I walk over to her camera set up at the back of the locker room, and I give her a friendly wave. “It’s been too long,” I jest, since we spoke after the game a couple of weeks ago.