Page 72 of Stick Fight

God. Please let that be right.

A knot of unease starts to tighten in my stomach, and I force it down. But the truth is, we haven’t exactly been diving deep. We’re great behind closed doors, skin to skin, tangled in sheets and laughter. But we don’t talk. Not about the big stuff. Not about Cass or the fact that he's still publicly claiming I’m dealing with a family emergency, that the wedding’s just postponed—not called off. Does Roman think that’s the case too? He’s not brought it up, neither have the WAGs, but they must all be wondering.

And then there’s Theo.

God, Theo.

That run-in at The Nook was ugly. I didn’t tell Roman. What would be the point? Theo’s halfway out the door anyway, getting traded soon, and rumor has it half the team can’t stand him. But that one word still echoes.

Convenient.

Someone warm to come home to while he chased bunnies on the road. And when I turned red, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove that misogynistic trash, he hit on me.

Hit on me.

Honestly, if Roman knew, there’d be trouble. That’s the last thing this team needs right now. And the last thingIneed is to be the reason Roman gets distracted or worse, thrown off his game. But still… I can’t un-hear it. Can’t un-feel the way it rattled me. Because what if Theo wasn’t just being an asshole? What if he was telling the truth? Because…convenient.

That wasmyword.

The one I used when Roman tried to label whatever this is between us. Out of every possible word he could’ve latched onto, Theo somehow landed on the exact same one I whispered.

I don’t believe for a second that Roman’s blabbing in the locker room, airing out our private moments like dirty laundry. That’s not him. And cheating? No. I won’t go there. Roman calls me every night—every single one. We talk. We laugh. We fall asleep to the sound of each other’s voices. If he were out with the bunnies, how would he even have the time? So no, I don’t believe it.

But even lies, when delivered with just the right amount of venom, can find the cracks. And Theo somehow knew exactly where to strike.

Still, it’s stupid. Roman and I aren’t together. Not really. We’re not supposed to be jealous or possessive or hurt by hypotheticals. We shouldn’t be having sleepovers that turn into routines, or lazy Sunday mornings that turn into rituals. We definitely shouldn’t be doing things like kissing goodbye in the morning or falling asleep wrapped around each other like itmeans more.

Because it doesn’t… right?

Aren’t you already doing all those things, girlfriend? It’s true, we are, which begs the question: What the hell do you want?

A sudden eruption of cheers snaps me out of my spiral. The crowd goes wild as Brady pulls off a jaw-dropping save. Melanie’s jumping like we just won the cup, and Maeve comes rushing back in, hair flying.

“What’d I miss?” she pants.

“Brady made a great save.” Brighton grins, throwing an arm around Melanie in a congratulatory hug.

Maeve flops into the seat beside me with a groan. “Why does my bladder always betray me at the worst possible time?”

“Don’t even start with me about bladders,” Gina says, rolling her eyes. “Grant was born two months ago and I’m still leaking like a faucet.”

That gets a round of laughs, and I manage a smile as I listen. I’ve picked up on the little things, like how Ash and Gina named their baby after his father, Grant. How Maeve and Tanner’s daughter is named Stella, after his mom. It’s sweet. It’s sentimental. It’s something…something I’d want.

Without warning, I picture Roman and me. Having a baby. Would we name the child after my side of the family or his? Probably mine, since he never talks about his, except for Nolan. Which once again reminds me that while we’re doing a lot of things that make me think we could have a future, we’re still not deep diving into our past, the things that make us who we are—the things that turned him into a man who doesn’t do relationships.

Ugh.

Get out of your head, Gabby.

The conversation drifts to baby names and birth plans and what it feels like to grow a human inside you, and I just… listen. It’s not my world. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But God, the ache that stirs in my chest is real. I’ve always wanted kids. I thought by now I’d be pregnant with Cass’s baby.

Thank God I’m not.

“How are you feeling, Taylor?” Gina asks.

Taylor rests a hand on her growing bump. “I’m going to look like a beluga whale in my wedding dress this summer,” she groans.

Everyone bursts into laughter, then floods her with comfort and compliments, and all I can think about is herwedding. The one at the Hart Hotel. The one where I ran away from Cass, and swore I’d never step inside again. Will Roman go alone, or will he bring a plus one that isn’t me?

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