Page 26 of Twisted Shot
“Not at all,” he says smoothly. “Mila’s always been generous with her...attention. Just surprised she’s entertaining charity cases. Then again, she always did like a project.”
Theo doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. His jaw tightens, shoulders rolling back as he straightens to his full height, every muscle locked and humming. He’s already got a few inches on Richard, and in his skates he towers over him. He’s taller, broader, and meaner when he wants to be—and right now,he wants to be.
“You don’t talk to her like that.”
Richard lifts an eyebrow, bemused. “Excuse me?”
Theo doesn’t move. “I said, you don’t talk to her like that.”
It’s quiet, but it lands like a body check.
Richard’s eyes flick over him again, smugness faltering at the edges. He clearly isn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone with a sweaty jersey and bruised knuckles.
Mila steps between them, one hand brushing Theo’s arm. “Theo, it’s fine.”
But he doesn’t look at her. Not yet. His eyes lock on Richard like he’s measuring the man’sworth and finding nothing there.
Richard snorts and adjusts his cuffs. “Touching. Really.”
He turns to Mila. “You ready, or are you planning to flirt with the benchwarmers all afternoon?”
Mila’s jaw tightens. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
Richard shrugs and saunters off. Theo watches him go, teeth clenched so hard his jaw aches.
When they’re alone again, the silence hangs thick.
Mila breathes out. “Thank you. You didn’t have to?—”
“He shouldn’t talk to you like that,” Theo cuts in, softer now. “Nobody should.”
She offers him a small smile—grateful, tired. “You’re sweet.”
“No, I’m really not,” he says, shaking his head.
That makes her laugh, and his heart flips in his chest.
“I really do have a flight,” she says, stepping back a little. “But...next time I’m here?”
He nods. Too fast. Too eager.
“Next time,” she says again, more gently.
Then she’s gone.
Theo stands alone in the corridor, sweat cooling on his skin, knuckles still buzzing with the urge to punch something.
CHAPTER 9
THEO
The controller vibrates in Theo’s hands as he gets annihilated for the third time in a row. On screen, his character ragdolls across the pavement, face-first into a fire hydrant.
Jesse hoots from the other end of the couch. “That’s what you get for trying to outsmart me.”
Theo exhales through his nose, not quite a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re slow,” Jesse quips, mashing buttons like his life depends on it. There’s an open bag of ketchup chips between them, half its contents scattered across the coffee table. “I warned you not to pick the heavy build.”
