I stood abruptly and headed for the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go.
Steam filled the small bathroom, fogging the mirror until I couldn't see my own reflection. Good. I didn't want to look at myself right now. Didn't want to see the exhaustion or the doubt or whatever pathetic expression I was wearing that made people like Mark feel the need to check on me.
The water burned against my skin, but I stayed under it anyway, letting it scald away the tension that had been building since the club. Since I'd walked away from Taranis on that balcony and felt something splinter inside my chest.
He'd looked so hopeful when he'd asked if he could buy me a drink.
I pressed my forehead against the tile, eyes closed, and tried to convince myself I'd done the right thing. The safe thing. The only thing that made sense given my track record with trust and relationships and literally everything else in my life.
It didn't work.
Because the truth was, I hadn't walked away because I wasn't interested. I'd walked away because I was too interested. I'd noticed him on my third day. He was hard to miss given his size, but it wasn't that. Or not just. It was those soft blue-gray eyes and his gentle manner that had attracted me. Because when Taranis had looked at me with those steady eyes and offered me his jacket without hesitation, something in me had wanted to lean into it. Into him. Into the possibility of something good.
And I couldn't afford that.
Not again.
I stayed in the shower until I couldn't avoid getting out or I'd be late, drying off with a towel that was somehow both too scratchy and too soft. Hotel towels were always wrong.
By the time I'd dressed—jeans, a clean shirt that didn't smell like a locker room, my least-offensive pair of shoes—it was sixforty-five. I stared at myself in the now-clear mirror and tried to summon something that looked like confidence.
I failed. But I went anyway, because Mark had said it was realistically mandatory, and I couldn't afford to screw up another job by being antisocial on top of everything else.
The ballroom was massive, filled with round tables and too many people. The team had clearly claimed the center section, players sprawled out like they owned the place. Staff clustered at the edges, forming their own smaller groups—video with video, equipment with equipment, a clear hierarchy I didn't quite understand yet.
I hesitated in the doorway, scanning for an empty seat that wouldn't require me to insert myself into an established conversation.
"Cinder!" Max's voice carried across the room, loud and cheerful. He waved me over like we were old friends instead of people who'd exchanged maybe ten words total. "Sit with us!"
Every instinct I had screamed to politely decline and find somewhere quiet. But Mark's words echoed in my head—realistically mandatory—and I forced my feet to move. Max had claimed a table near the front with Cole, Phoenix, Julian, and—
My stomach dropped.
Taranis.
Of course Taranis was there. Because the universe had a sense of humor and apparently thought I hadn't suffered enough today.
"Plenty of room," Max said, patting the empty chair beside him. The only empty chair. Which happened to be directly across from Taranis.
"Thanks," I managed, sliding into the seat and immediately regretting every decision that had led me to this moment. Taranis didn't look up. He was studying his menu like it contained the secrets of the universe, jaw tight, shoulders tense.The same posture he'd had on the plane when I'd walked past him.
Phoenix leaned over and said something to Cole that made him smile, the kind of intimate, easy affection that made my chest ache. Julian was arguing with Max about something hockey-related, their French accents thickening as they got more animated. Julian’s wife Lizzie leaned over, her hand out. “They’re only speaking English for my benefit,” she teased. I shook her hand and grinned as I was expected to. I knew Lizzie from photos Julian showed toeveryone,but this was the first time we’d officially met. I caught the accent immediately. New York. The clipped way her vowels didn’t linger. She was friendly and Julian was very attentive, borderline anxious.
"First road trip?" Phoenix asked, pulling me into the conversation with surprising gentleness.
I nodded. "Yeah. It's... a lot."
"It gets easier," he said. "Or you get used to it. I'm not sure which."
Cole squeezed his hand where it rested on the table, a small gesture that spoke volumes. I looked away, uncomfortable witnessing something that private.
My gaze returned to Lizzie. Julian was half-turned toward her, one hand still wrapped around his beer, the other hovering uselessly at her back like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. She said something low I couldn’t hear, and he leaned in automatically, head dipping without thinking.
She shook her head once. Small. Almost apologetic.
“I’m fine,” she said. A little too careful.
Julian frowned. “You sure?”