I didn’t miss a single look the team gave us, but I was exactly where I wanted to be. Cole gently massaged my calves and my feet, and I had to hold in a groan at how good it felt.
Tristan fed me a grape, then a piece of cheese. His fingers lingered on my lips.
“Watch the game, asshole,” I muttered without heat.
He grinned at me, sweet and charming. “I’m watching something better, kitten.”
“Smooth,” Cole snarked, but his hands never stopped their gentle massage of my feet.
For the first time in days, my heart beat steady. Regular.
I lasted maybe ten minutes before exhaustion pulled me under.
“Princess,”Cole murmured, “it’s the second intermission.”
I blinked myself awake to find Tristan smiling down at me, his fingers still tracing patterns on my arm. “Sleep well?”
I’d drooled on his shirt. “Shit, sorry?—”
“Don’t care.” He kissed my forehead. “You needed it.”
I sat up, disengaging my calves from Cole’s grip and bringing my legs down in front of me so I could stretch. “I’ll be back,” I promised my men, and stood, stretching and working the kinks out from dozing off in their laps. If I’d known I were going to conk out, I might have insisted on a more comfortable position.
I made it to the kitchen before checking my messages.
The Devil
Tick tock.
Don’t ignore me again.
I was still staring at my phone when Haruto’s voice made me jump.
“What’re you doing, Eva?” He was at the counter, chopping vegetables with single-minded intensity.
“Checking my messages.”
“And how’s that going?”
“Fine?”
Chop chop chop.
“Haruto—”
“We care about you, Eva. The whole fucking team cares. You’re a friend, and I hate to see you hurt. I hate to see them hurting too.”
I didn’t know how to play this, wasn’t ready to admit I’d forgiven them, even though it was plain as day to everyone who saw it.
“Were you with Coach too?” he asked. I swallowed hard, unable to tell if his question was accusatory or concerned. “Areyou with Coach? Or I guess we just call him Alek now that he’s quit,” he corrected himself, his tone bitter.
“Haruto, look at me.”
He cocked one eyebrow, as if he were ready to challenge whatever I had to say.
“Do I look unhappy?”
“No,” he muttered.