Page 75 of Triple Play
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BOUNDARIES
Grant
I’m up at five-thirty like always, dragging myself out of bed after another shit night of sleep where all I can think about is Elise’s mouth on mine and the way she looked at me after like I’d just destroyed something.
I need coffee. A run. Something to clear my head.
Instead I get a front-row seat to the absolute destruction of every boundary we’re supposed to have in this house.
I’m halfway down the hall when Wyatt’s door opens and Elise slips out, still wearing her sleep clothes, hair messed, that soft just-woke-up look on her face.
She freezes when she sees me. Deer in headlights.
I stare at her. At Wyatt’s door. Back at her.
“Morning,” she says, like this is normal, like she didn’t just spend the night in my teammate’s bed.
I don’t respond. Can’t trust what’s going to come out of my mouth.
She hurries past me to her own room and closes the door with a soft click that somehow feels louder than a slam.
I stand there. Processing.
Elise—who I kissed two nights ago. Elise—who I’m pretty sure hooked up with Jordie during his absence at the party…now leaving fucking Wyatt’s bed?
Rage simmers inside me.
I storm downstairs, my mood black enough to match the pre-dawn sky outside. The kitchen is already occupied—Jordie’s at the stove, humming to himself like he doesn’t have a care in the world, spatula in hand.
“Pancakes anyone?” He’s got that golden retriever energy cranked to maximum, grinning like an idiot. “I’m making chocolate chip. Or blueberry if you’re feeling healthy, which, let’s be honest, you’re not.”
“It’s five-thirty in the morning,” I snap, yanking open the cabinet for a mug with more force than necessary.
“Early bird gets the pancakes.” He flips one expertly. “You sleep okay? You look like shit.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Just pour coffee that’s too hot and drink it anyway, letting it burn all the way down.
Something’s off about Jordie. He’s too happy. Too… satisfied. Like he’s got a secret he’s dying to tell but is forcing himself to keep quiet.
My brain makes connections I don’t want it to make.
Last night. The party. Jordie disappearing for a suspicious amount of time. Coming back downstairs with that weird energy, kicking everyone out because he had a “hookup waiting.”
Elise leaving Wyatt’s room this morning with that same just-fucked glow.
No. No way.
But the math is mathing and I hate every number in the equation.
I slam my mug down hard enough that coffee sloshes over the rim. “Where the hell did you disappear to last night?”
Jordie doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps cooking. “Party got messy. Took care of some stuff upstairs.”
“What stuff?”
“Just stuff.” That infuriating smile. “Why? You keeping tabs on me, Cap?”
