Page 135 of Power Play
“I swear,” Ollie pants from the bench, “I’m never skating again. I’m retiring. I’m going into politics. Or goat farming.”
Jacko tosses a sweaty towel at him. “You’d cry if a goat looked at you wrong.”
Ollie flips him off weakly. “Shut it,Bake Off.”
Jacko grins and pulls a plastic container from his bag. “Speaking of which,”
“Oh no.” Ollie perks up instantly. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Salted caramel shortbread.” Jacko peels the lid off. “Made it last night. Took me three tries to get the texture right.”
“You’re a madman,” I say, grabbing one with a grateful nod.
“Man’s a saint,” Dylan adds, biting into a piece. “I’d marry you for this.”
Jacko beams. “Get in line.”
The laughter is welcome. It cuts through the fog in my head. Still, as the sugar kicks in, I catch Dylan watching me, not suspicious, not angry. Just thoughtful.
After everyone starts trickling out, he lingers behind.
“You alright?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That wasn’t convincing.”
I drop my head back against the wall of the locker room and exhale slowly. “It’s two weeks and I still feel like someone took a sledgehammer to my chest.”
Dylan sits next to me, forearms resting on his knees. “You still messaging her?”
“Every day.”
“Nothing?”
“Not a word.”
He nods slowly. “She’s hurt. But she’s not cruel. That silence, it’s not indifference. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. That night. The pictures. The timing. You looked gutted, when it hit the fan. And Mia said you’ve been wrecked.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter how I feel. It matters what she saw.”
“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “But intent matters too. And I don’t think you’re a liar, Murph. A flirt, a smart-arse, a chaos merchant? Sure. But not a liar.”
Something catches in my throat.
“Thanks,” I say, voice rough.
Dylan claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll have to do more than just mope around like a kicked puppy, though. If you want her back, really want her, you’ve got to show her she’s worth more than a thousand apologies.”
“I know.”
Dylan grabs my shoulder and squeezes it in that way guys do when they try to show you they’re in it with you. “Come on, let’s grab a drink.”
The pub’s loud and almost too warm. The smell of chips and beer clings to everything and the music’s just loud enough to drown out your thoughts if you lean into it.
The team’s gathered around a big table near the back. Ollie’s talking too fast about a TikTok conspiracy. Jacko’s sketching out a biscuit idea on a napkin. Mia shows up halfway through the second pint, sliding into the seat next to me.
“Hey,” she says, nodding.
