Page 153 of Make the Play

I exhale through my nose, then tap a quick thumbs-up and toss the phone onto the bed.Walk-in content duty.As if I needed more opportunities to completely lose my shit tonight.

I grab a quick shower to scrub off the day and rinse the tension from my bones. Then, with a towel wrapped around me, I select a pair of black leather pants and a cream camisole—flattering and easy, just enough bite to feel like armor. I’ll top it with an oversized blazer, professional enough to look Pulse-sanctioned. Gold hoops. Nude lipstick and gloss. A little extra mascara to hide the chaos brewing behind my eyes.

It’s givingI’m here to manage optics, but I might also ruin your entire life if you say one wrong thing about my boyfriend.

Before I put everything on, I glance back at the jersey and grab it, pulling it over my head slowly and smoothing it down. It’s oversized, loose, and hangs just past mid-thigh. It smells like him, citrusy and warm, a little spicy, and I instantly feel lighter.

For just a second, I don’t feel like the girl juggling optics and headlines and a media circus.

I just feel likehis.

Then I lift my phone and take the photo. Barefoot, standing in the middle of his bedroom, jersey hem brushing the tops of my thighs, my outfit tossed off to the side. I send it with no caption.

Thirty seconds later, my phone buzzes.

Chase:You’re evil.

Me:I’m wearing pants to the arena. Don’t get any ideas

Chase:Too late. I’m already half hard

Me:Put that energy into scoring goals, Walton

Chase:You ARE my goal, sweetheart.

Me:God, I hate you.

Chase:No you don’t.

I toss my phone back on the bed with a grin and focus on getting dressed. The jersey goes over my camisole and under the blazer, because I decide I should at least remain impartial while on walk-in duty.

Pausing at the front door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My blazer’s on, bag slung over my shoulder, heels in hand. But something tugs at me.

I turn slightly, pulling my blazer off and craning to see my back. My eyes catch on that messy strip of athletic tape with my last name scratched across it, pretending it’s a joke when really, it’s the most serious thing I’ve ever seen.

And I get why he did it. It was his way of handing over control and showing me I could be his without giving up any part of myself.

Which is exactly why I reach back and peel the tape off, tossing it onto the hallway table.

Because I’m still me, and I still won’t wear anyone’s name.

Unless it’s his.

***

The air in the arena is buzzing before the crowd even arrives. I’m tucked just off to the side of the Storm’s entry hallway, holding my phone steady as I film for the official walk-in reel. The Pulse social team sent through the shot list, but it’s mostly vibes—they trust me to know what hits. Tailored suits, swagger, energy. It’s not hard with this team, they know how to sell it.

Each guy gives me something. A chin lift, a grin, a little nod. Logan spins like he’s on a runway, Ryan throws a wink, Eli blows me a sarcastic kiss just to make my eyes roll. Reid, as always, just stalks past like he’s been inconvenienced by oxygen. Jake throws me a smirk and mouths,Nice jersey, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Chase is still missing, but I’m not surprised. He always cuts it close.

I’m running on autopilot, lens up, mouth smiling, pretending to be unbothered while my entire body isverybothered underthis blazer. The jersey clings to my skin, my heart pounding every time I move and feel it shift.

And then I hear him. The easy swagger of his voice and laughter from down the tunnel before I even see his face.

Chase rounds the corner in a navy suit and white dress shirt, top button undone, collar slightly rumpled like he tugged at it on the drive over. His hair is swept back, damp at the edges, and his hands are in his pockets like he’s not the sharpest, cockiest motherfucker to ever walk through this tunnel.

And his eyes—those bright, electric blue eyes of his—are locked on mine the second he sees me.

The camera is still rolling, but I’m not sure I’m even holding it steady anymore.

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