Evan’s expression shifts. Something flickers behind those dark eyes, surprise maybe. “Did you?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Because answering that question honestly would change everything, and I’m not brave enough yet.
He watches me for a long moment, then shakes his head. “Figure that out before you go near him again.” He walks past me without another word.
I stand in the corridor alone, shaking.
Vegas.
The arena is a wall of noise, eighteen thousand people in blue, the energy vibrating through the building in a way that’s different from New York. Bigger, louder, more sparkle. I’m working rinkside with the girls, filming the warmups, getting the content. Fish skates past me during warmups and doesn’t look at me. He hasn’t looked at me in a long time. Not once, but I guess this is our new normal.
The game is physical from the start. The boys are locked in. Pierre and Felix are terrifying together, Emmett is running the defense, and the team is clicking. Fish is playing fine, but there’s an edge to him that wasn’t there before. He’s hitting harder than he needs to. Taking risks he wouldn’t normally take. Playing like a man with something to prove or something to punish.
The Mavericks win four-nothing. Emmett scores the fourth goal, and the bench erupts. I film it all, professional smile in place, because this is my job and I will not let a broken heart stop me from doing it well.
“We’re going out.”I appear in Jo’s hotel room doorway like a tornado in heels. I’ve already changed out of my work clothes into a tiny black dress that would give our brothers a heart attack.
“I’m tired,” she lies.
“Bullshit. It’s Vegas, Jo. The team won. Everyone’s celebrating.” I walk in without being invited and start rifling through her suitcase. “You’re not sitting in this room alone watching TV.”
“I like TV.”
I ignore her and pull out a red dress she forgot she packed. “This. Wear this.”
“Lettie …”
“Nope. Not hearing it.” I throw the dress at her. “Shower. Change. We’re meeting everyone in thirty minutes.”
“Everyone?”
“The team. The wives. The girlfriends. The whole crew.” I give her a pointed look. “Is that a problem?”
“No.”
“Great. Then stop arguing and start getting ready.” Jo disappears into the hotel bathroom. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stare at my reflection, the dark circles under my eyes are concealed. The redness from crying in the shower earlier is gone.I look okay.I look like a woman who’s about to have a fun night in Vegas and is absolutely not thinking about Justin Crawford or his blue eyes or his stupid crooked grin.
“Jo!” I yell through the door. “I can hear you overthinking! Stop it!”
The club is exactlywhat you’d expect from Vegas. Dark, loud, pulsing with bass that you feel in your chest. The VIP section is roped off for the team, with bottles of champagne on ice and beautiful people everywhere. I spot Harper and Issy in a booth, and Jo makes a beeline for them. Good. She’s settled.
I disappear into the crowd with Zara, Billie, and Marlowe because being near the boys’ section means being near Fish, and I’m not ready for that. We dance and drink, and I let the music drown out the noise in my head. For twenty minutes it works. For twenty minutes, I’m just a woman in a black dress in a Vegas club having fun.
Then I make the mistake of looking.
Fish is in the VIP section. He’s changed out of his suit into dark jeans and a fitted shirt, and he looks obscenely good under the club lights. He’s with two women, one on either side of him. One has her hand on his thigh. The other is whispering in his ear. He’s smiling. Laughing. Being Fish. Being the version of himself that the world sees, and I used to see behind.Don’t watch.
One of the women leans in and kisses his cheek. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just keeps talking, keeps smiling, keeps being charming and available, and everything he promised me he wasn’t anymore.He’s not yours. He could have been, but you said no.
I turn away, take a long drink of champagne, dance harder, and pretend the bass is the reason my chest is pounding and not the image of another woman’s lips on his skin.
An hour later,I go looking for Jo because she disappeared a while ago, and Harper said she went toward the back of the club. I weave through the crowd and find the hallway leading to the restrooms, and that’s when I see them. Jo and Emmett, in the hallway. Her back is against the wall, his body pressed into hers, and her legs are wrapped around his waist. His mouth is on her neck, while her hands are in his hair. They are full-on grinding against each other like they’re the only two people in the world.
“There you are,” I say, keeping my voice carefully neutral. “Harper was worried about you.”
They spring apart. Jo’s face is flushed. Emmett’s hair is wrecked. The distance between them is barely respectable.
“I’m fine. Just needed some air,” Jo stammers.