Page 115 of Shots & Echoes

Her eyes widened, something flashing behind them—surprise, maybe even shock. But beneath it? She fucking liked it.The way I said her name. The weight behind it. The command laced in every syllable.

We stood there, neither of us moving, trapped in the heat of it all.

And she knew.

She wasn’t walking away from this. Not now. Not ever.

I sat in my office,drowning under the sickly glow of the flickering fluorescent lights. The Team USA scout reports were spread across my desk, pages filled with stats, names, futures hanging in the balance. But my vision blurred over everything except one name.

Chambers.

It was always fucking there. Like a stain I couldn’t scrub out. Like a noose tightening around my throat, just waiting to snap.

The weight in my gut sank deeper, heavier. If Chambers got even a whiff of what was happening between me and Iris? Game over. For her. For me. For everything.

He had eyes everywhere. He lived for moments like this—an opportunist, a vulture circling, just waiting for someone to make a mistake big enough for him to tear apart. If he found out, he’d sink his claws in and rip us to shreds without thinking twice.

And my father? He’d never fucking forgive me.

I could already see the look in his eyes, that cold, quiet disappointment that cut deeper than words ever could. He’d spent his whole life building a name that meant something in this sport. And I was throwing it away—for what?

For her.

For the girl who looked at me like I was something more than my failures, my temper, my uncontrollable anger. For theway she breathed my name like it was a confession, a surrender. For the fire that burned between us, one we both knew would consume us whole if we let it.

I gritted my teeth, fingers digging into the reports like I could crush the ink off the page. It wasn’t just reckless—it was fucking selfish.

She deserved better. A real shot at Team USA, a future without the weight of my mistakes dragging her down. Instead, I’d tangled her up in something dangerous, something that could destroy us both.

And if this blew up? If she lost everything because of me?

She’d hate me.

The thought hit like a punch to the ribs, knocking the breath from my lungs. Hate. Not fire, not defiance—hate.

Not after what happened between us. Not after she came undone in my hands, after she let me claim every piece of her. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing that light in her eyes flicker out, of watching her look at me like I was the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

I forced a deep breath, staring blankly at the reports, but they blurred together as the anger in my chest coiled tighter. At myself. At Chambers. At this entire fucking situation.

The walls pressed in, the ticking clock pounding against my skull like a countdown to disaster. Every second that passed made it clearer—this was a war I wasn’t sure I could win.

But one thing was certain: I wouldn’t let her lose.

I paced my office, each step fueled by the tension coiling tighter in my muscles. The air was thick, heavy with the stale scent of coffee and the weight of what I’d done.

I had her. I fucking had her. Pressed against those lockers, gasping my name like she needed me to survive.

But she hadn’t just let me in—she surrendered. And now? Now I couldn’t shake the sickening feeling that I was the one who’d break her.

A growl ripped through my chest as I slammed my fist against the desk. The reports scattered, but I barely registered it. My pulse pounded in my skull, my skin still burning with the memory of her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

She was a competitor. A challenge. A reason to push harder, to expect more. Not this. Not something that consumed me from the inside out.

But it was too fucking late for reason.

Every time I closed my eyes, she was there—wild, breathless, mine. The way her body had trembled against me, how her nails had raked down my skin like she wanted to mark me as much as I wanted to mark her.

And the problem?

---