Page 31 of Cross the Line
Our off-ice mess followed us to the rink. Normally, we show up, no matter what. Last night, we didn’t.
Which, again, makesuscomplicated and potentially messy.
Matheo’s glare bounces between us before locking on Jayden. That’s when I move. I step to Jayden’s side, close enough that our shoulders brush. If he takes the hit, I take it, too.
“We lost the game because of you,” Matheo bites out, face flaming red. “We lost because you’re too wrapped up in him to actually play hockey, and now you’re… you’re…Fuck!”
Silence drops heavy between us. Matheo’s eyes flick down to where our sides touch. It’s nothing unusual, but he knows.
Heknowseven if he doesn’t acknowledge it.
“Fuck,” he mutters, quieter now.
“Feel better?” Jayden asks, tone stripped of humor.
Matheo exhales through his nose, runs both hands through his curls, pulling at his neck. When he looks up again, the fight’s half-gone.
“Call me whatever you want,” Jayden says. His voice is calm but trembling beneath it. “You think I’m a pussy-ass bitch, that’s fine, amigo. Hell, I don’t even care that you think I’m a cuckold. But you ever call my momma a whore again, and I’ll slap your teeth out of your head.”
I’ve seen Jayden lose it over less. The fact he hasn’t swung yet says everything about how much Matheo means to him.
“Jayden—”
“I don’t want your fucking apology, Matheo.” Jayden pushes off the wall as the elevator dings for the lobby. Without brushing past him, he strides out.
Every muscle in him is coiled tight, his fury vibrating under my skin like it’s mine, too.
When Matheo’s gaze drags to me, I lose the last thread of calm. I grab his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “We didn’t lose because of Jayden, or because he’s caught up in me. We lost because we played a terrible game, Rio.”
He nods, silent. I slap my other hand to the door-open button and release him, stepping out with him before anyone can notice.
Before he walks away, I block his path. “The team’s two men down, and Oliver’s still finding his feet. Those are the facts.”
“You’re not helping the shit show,” he growls, glaring me up and down. “Do you even see what you’re doing to him? The way he follows you around like a lovesick puppy? Always pining for your attention… Always?—”
“Apologize,” I cut in, voice low. “And don’t ever bring up his family again. Because after he slaps your teeth out, I’ll make you swallow them one by one.”
I spin on my heel, pulse hammering, vision narrowing… and then, I stop. Dead.
Every cell in my body locks.
She’s standing there.
Finley.
The noise around us fades into nothing. I can’t breathe. Relief, fear, awe—they all hit at once, and I’m paralyzed.
She walks toward me, slow, deliberate. Her eyes are wide, dark. Even with her hair piled up in a messy cascade, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Loose jeans, cropped white tee. Simple. Perfect.
“Finley-James,” I whisper when she stops in front of me, that tentative smile tugging at her lips.
Dark circles ring her eyes. She looks older. Exhausted... As though she’s been holding herself together with sheer willpower.
My girl looks like she’s about to break.
I want nothing more than to grab her, to hold her so tight she doesn’t fall apart. But this has to be her move.
With a searching look, she closes the distance and throws her arms around my neck, pulling herself up against me.
