Page 53 of Dream Chaser
Yeah. Thought so.
I push down the anger simmering in my chest and keep walking.
Every bit of that anger simmers when I walk into my room. I stand just inside, the silence creeping in, heavy and thick. The bed’s a mess—comforter ruffled, pillows halfway to the floor, and an obvious reminder of what we did painted across the mattress. I should shower. I should care. But I don’t.
I strip down and slide back into the bed like I’ve got no shame. Because I don’t.
The smell of her is still all over me, like that first bite of summer: peach-sweet with something wild underneath. Her skin was soft, but her taste was fire, and now it’s on my tongue, in my head, stuck in the way my body still buzzes.
I sink into the mattress and let the scent of sex, sweat, and her shampoo cloud my thoughts. It’s intoxicating. Warm vanilla. A hint of citrus. My own body still pulsing in the aftershocks, her breath echoing in my ears.
I fall asleep like that—boneless, fucked-out, wrapped in the ghost of her.
My phone buzzes against the nightstand, rattling like a damn alarm clock in a steel drum.
I crack an eye open and grab it as I roll onto my back and groan when I read the message.
Lucas Links:Conference Room C, 9:00 a.m. Mandatory team meeting.
I check the time.8:42.
Fuck me.
I peel myself out of bed, muscles tight in the best way, and do a quick rinse in the shower—cold enough to wake me up, not enough to erase her from my skin, not until I know we’re going to go another round.
After brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair, I toss on a hoodie and joggers then head down the hall.
We file into the conference room, where Lucas stands up front with Ava beside him, arms crossed, face hard.
Lucas clears his throat. “Morning. I’ll get right to it. The league won’t budge.”
A quiet groan runs through the room.
“No replay. No review. No do-over. They’re calling it final.”
I mutter, “Bullshit.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah, we agree. They’re offering us a bone. If we don’t engage—if the team doesn’t stoke the flames of thefan backlash—they’ll waive all the fines. Every single one. That includes players, coaches, owners, and sideline staff.”
Ava steps forward. “It’s damage control, plain and simple. The league wants this to go away. But if anyone on this team fans the fire, they’ll hammer us with every penalty they can. And we know damn well they’ll make sure the Knights are at the bottom of every call next season.”
The room goes quiet; everyone is fucking pissed.
Ava throws a pile of papers on the table. “I’m fucking livid. We just got a championship game stolen from us, ripped the fuck away, and these pieces of shit think we should keep quiet?”
“Ava.” Lucas grips her shoulder.
“They can go fuck themselves,” she hisses.
“You told them that.” He chuckles then turns to us.
“Clearly, they’re hell-bent on fucking us over. Paid off or not, Philly played dirty; that’s kind of their thing. It isn’t the entire league. Most owners and teams love this sport, this game, like we do, not the shit we dealt with in Vegas or last night. We know it’s a hard ask to tell you to trust that we’re working on this, so please, all of you—even you, Ava—lock it down. No comment, all that shit.”
“Just know, we’re working on this, just had to take a break when, uh …” Logan shakes his head.
Ave throws her hands in the air. “I do hope their wives find men with bigger dicks. I will never apologize for that.” She narrows her eyes. “Never.”
Lucas rubs his temples. “We’re aware.” He looks us each in the eye, one by one. “Our call was disconnected.”
