Page 59 of Eight Count Heat
"I do," I say, surprising myself with the admission. "Trust you, that is. On the water."
Something shifts in her expression, a softening I can't quite interpret. "That's all I'm asking for."
We continue walking, picking up pace as the rain intensifies. When we reach her dorm, she turns to me at the entrance.
"Thanks for the escort," she says. "Unnecessary, but... appreciated."
"Team takes care of team," I reply simply.
She studies me for a moment, as if seeing something new. "Is that what we are, Lockwood? A team?"
"What else would we be?"
A small, enigmatic smile touches her lips. "Goodnight, Captain."
She disappears inside, leaving me standing in the rain with the distinct impression that I've missed something important. A piece of the puzzle just beyond my grasp.
On the walk back to the team house, I sort through the evening's observations. Reese's distraction. The bruise on her wrist. Her hesitation about Riverside. The text that made her pale. Eli's unusual protectiveness. Cameron's attentive gaze.
Individual data points that suggest a pattern I can't quite discern.
Yet.
But I will. Because whatever affects one member of this team affects us all. And Reese Callahan, whether she likes it or not, is part of this team now.
My team.
chapter FIFTEEN
Reese
It's been raining fortwo days straight.
Gray has driven us harder than ever through the downpour, determined to shave every possible second off our time before Riverside. Morning and afternoon practices, ergometer sessions, video analysis of previous races – all while I've been trying to avoid Kinsley's friends and hide the bruises they left on my wrist and arm when they cornered me outside class.
I'm exhausted and soaked as I walk back from the evening strategy session, the steady rain showing no signs of letting up. The campus is quiet, most students have already retreated to libraries or dorms to stay dry. Three days until Riverside. Three days until my trial period ends. And exactly four suppressant pills left in my emergency stash.
The math isn't in my favor.
I'm halfway back to my dorm when I hear the motorcycle.
The low rumble is unmistakable, even before headlights sweep across the rain-slicked path behind me. I keep walking, pretending not to notice as Cameron pulls alongside, engine idling.
"Get on," he says without preamble, holding out the spare helmet.
"I'm fine," I reply, not breaking stride.
"You're soaked."
"It's just water."
"Reese." Something in his voice makes me stop and look at him. "Please."
The "please" surprises me. I've never heard Cameron Blake say it before. Even after three days of keeping my distance, trying to process what happened between us in the lake, he still has this effect on me, breaking through my carefully constructed walls with a single word.
I take the helmet with a sigh of surrender.
"Where are we going?" I ask as I climb on behind him.
