Page 65 of Arrogant Puck

I tie off the bag with shaking hands and reach for another one. There’s still so much left to pack, and Slater is waiting outside because we have a plane to catch in a few hours. Slater, who thinks I’m moving in with him permanently. Slater, who has a sex room and antidepressants and who looked at me this morning like he might like me.

God, what am I getting myself into?

The kitchen is next, and I move through it like a woman possessed. My coffee mug, the one with the chip on the handle that I’ve had since college. The nice knife set I saved up for months to buy. Spices, pasta, the good olive oil that I splurged on. I can’t leave anything behind because I don’t have the money to replace these things whenever I get a new place—if I can even find one.

My hands shake as I wrap my dishes in dish towels, trying not to think about how pathetic this all is. Everything fits into two more trash bags, which I throw right outside the front door to transport easily one time.

Loading my entire life into the backseat and trunk of my Honda takes longer than it should, but Slater helps me withouthesitation. The bags are awkward and heavy, and by the time we’re done, I’m sweating despite the cool morning air. My car looks like I’m fleeing a natural disaster, which isn’t far from the truth.

“Follow me?” Slater asks.

I nod, sliding into the driver’s seat.

He walks back to his car, and I follow him. The drive back to his house is a blur of panic and adrenaline. I keep glancing at the clock on my dashboard, calculating how much time we have before we need to be at the airport because packing all the things I own took way too much time.

At his house, we both move franticly. I throw my trash bags into the empty guest bedroom—not the sex room, thankfully—and quickly dig through them to find what I need for a three-day trip. Travel-sized toiletries, enough clothes for multiple outfit changes, my work supplies, everything I’ll need packed into my professional travel backpack.

“I need to stop by work before the flight,” I call out as I zip up my bag.

“Why?”

“I have to grab stuff for work.”

So, we race there in his car. Even though we’re rushing, he’s still cold, quiet, shut off, seemingly cool. He disappears into the locker room while I grab stuff from the empty office, along with the team roster and my notes on each player’s current treatments.

The time is cutting it dangerously close, but we make it to the airport an hour before the flight takes off. We run through the terminal like we’re in some kind of action movie, our bags bouncing behind us as we sprint toward the check-in counter.

My lungs are burning by the time we reach the gate, and I’m pretty sure I’m sweating through my carefully chosen travel outfit. But we made it. Somehow, we actually made it.

Now I just have to survive three days with Slater breathing down my back and pretend like my entire life didn’t just turn upside down this morning.

Chapter 24

Coach gives me a glare that could melt steel when we finally make it to the gate. He’s standing with his arms crossed, checking his watch like we’re holding up the entire operation.

“Cutting it close, Castellano,” he says as we approach.

“Traffic,” I lie smoothly, dropping my black backpack at my feet.

Davidson snickers from somewhere behind me. “Traffic, or did you have to pick up your new girlfriend from her place?”

The word ‘girlfriend’ hits different when it’s about Sage, but the way he says it—like she’s some random hookup—makes something violent unfurl in my chest. I turn and give him a death glare that wipes the smirk right off his face.

“Something you want to say?” I ask quietly.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Just joking, man.”

I’m wearing baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, my usual travel uniform, but I feel exposed standing here with Sage nearby. Likeeveryone can see exactly what’s happening between us, even though nothing has actually happened.

Yet.

I wait for Sage to find where she’s going to sit, watching as she checks her boarding pass and looks around the gate area. When she settles into a chair near the window, I take the one right next to her.

Her phone buzzes a moment later, and I see her typing.

My phone lights up with her message.

Sage: You’re making it so obvious.

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