Page 217 of Make the Play

He doesn’t even blink.

“Then be scared, baby. Be whatever you need to be. I’m still gonna be here ready to hold every piece.”

The silence that follows is soft and sacred. We let it settle between us, something safe instead of something empty. Something just for us.

Eventually, he smiles. “So. Wanna see Phil?”

I groan, burying my face in the pillow, but there’s laughter there too. A kind of catharsis I hadn’t expected.

“Please don’t name your bruises. You’re already exhausting.”

“You love it,” he says, cocky grin slipping into place like it never left.

The worst part?

Ido. I really, really do.

But the best?

For the first time in ten days, I don’t feel broken.

I feel like me.

Chapter forty-three

Under my skin, right where you’ve always been

Zoe

It’s raining. Of course it’s raining.

Not the romantic kind either. Just this flat, miserable drizzle that streaks the windows and makes everything look grayer than it already feels. The kind of rain that seeps into your bones and ruins your hair and your plans and probably your entire life.

I stare out at it from my doorway window, one hand gripping my travel mug, the other fishing through my front closet for the coat I already know isn’t there.

“No, yeah, sure,” I mutter to myself. “Let’s make my first day back in the office even more cinematic. Why not add some pathetic rain-soaked outfit to the mix?”

I push aside a denim jacket, a raincoat that somehow doesn’t actually keep water out, and a puffer I only wear when it’s threatening snow. Nothing.

Because the only coat I want—the one that’s warm and fitted and won’t make me look like a sad marshmallow—is sitting in Chase’s closet at his condo, right where I left it.

I check the time. 8:50 a.m.

Morning skate started twenty minutes ago. He won’t even be home, and I still have the key card.

I blow out a breath, running the idea over in my head. This isn’t a big deal. I’ll be in and out, won’t even text him until later. I’ll make a joke about how he missed seeing me and tell him I stole my coat back like a coat-stealing ninja.

It’s not weird, it’s totally fine. He wouldn’t want me to get wet—well, at least not like this.

I smirk at my ridiculous, filthy brain and try to stop myself from imagining all the ways hewouldwant to get me wet.

Zoe. For fuck’s sake.Work. Press releases. Suits and traffic and capitalism.

I grab my purse and head out the door.

I can do this.

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