Page 173 of Scrum Heat

Evie leads us down the corridor to one of the side offices—small, windowed, and too sterile for how exhausted we all feel. Tom’s the first to step inside, and we all move after him, but Frankie lingers just outside the doorway. Her hand brushes mine, but she doesn’t stop or follow us in.

Instead, she turns to Evie.

“Do you have a minute?” Frankie asks.

Evie’s eyebrows lift, then she nods. “Of course.”

They step just out of earshot, near the end of the hall. I try not to watch, but I still catch the shift in Evie’s posture as Frankie talks, and through the bond, I feel her. Not in words; but in this low, muffled ache that radiates under my ribs. She’s standing upright, voice steady; but inside, she’s shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Evie says as they move back toward the room. “If I’d known…”

Frankie shakes her head. “You couldn’t have. It’s fine.”

Evie’s mouth twists like she wants to argue. “Is there anything you need?”

“No,” Frankie replies. “I’m going to deal with it. I’m going to see her tomorrow.”

“Alright. Well, make sure that you take the day. No work, no pressure. There’s nothing that can’t wait for one day, and we’ll make sure everything’s covered.”

Frankie gives a half-smile, then turns back toward us.

Tom’s voice captures all of our attention. “You all did good in there.”

“We know,” Theo grins.

Tom doesn’t rise to it. “Just do me a favor and keep your heads down. One more week. That’s all you’ve got. That final’s coming fast.”

Rory nods once. “We’re ready.”

And I don’t say anything—but I look at Frankie.

She’s tired, hollowed out, but still standing. Stillhere.

And that’s the kind of strength I’d follow anywhere.

Chapter Forty-One

Frankie

Iwake up in a tangle of limbs and blankets, Theo’s arm slung over my waist and Finn’s head tucked against my shoulder, one of his legs looped around mine.

It should feel chaotic, but it doesn’t.

I lie there for a moment, watching the early light filter through the curtains, soft and golden and indifferent to the quiet storm in my chest.

Theo stirs beside me, his breath warm against my neck, but he doesn’t wake. Finn lets out a soft sigh, face relaxed and peaceful, and something about that—about them, the way they trust me enough to sleep so close, so open—makes it harder to move.

I have to, though; so I shift carefully, easing out from between them without waking either. My body misses them immediately, but the bonds hum, soft and steady, a reminder that I’m never really without them anymore.

I shower, dress, and try to find a version of myself that looks put together in the mirror.

When I pass Rory’s room, the door is open. He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, headphones in, watching something on his phone. He looks up as I hover in the doorway, and our eyes meet as he pulls his headphones off.

“Leaving now?”

I nod. “Didn’t want to make a big thing of it.”

He stands, stretching once, then crosses to me. He kisses my forehead and then my mouth.

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