28 road trip
Away games usually end clean. Win, handshake line, locker room, bus, done.
Tonight doesn't.
We win, which should make everything simple. It's a solid game, nothing sloppy, nothing that needs replaying in my head more than necessary. The kind of win you take and move on from.
Except I don't move on from it. Because the second I step out into the hallway, still half in game mode, I see her.
Madi's sitting with Jess and Riley like she's been there long enough to settle into it, like this wasn't just something she agreed to and counted down the minutes until it was over.
She's wearing my jersey again.
And something... shifts.
It's quick, almost annoying in how subtle it is, like my brain doesn't register it properly at first. Just this weird, off feeling in my chest, like I missed a step going down stairs I didn't realize were there.
Not bad, not good, just different.
I ignore it. Because there's no reason to focus on that.
Declan notices her immediately, of course he does, elbowing me like this is the most predictable outcome in the world. "Your biggest critic made the trip and didn't leave early. That's growth."
"Don't start," I say.
"Oh, I already did."
I glance back at her without meaning to.
The jersey hangs slightly oversized on her, sleeves pushed up just enough to show her hands, the number on the back unmistakable even from here.
And that same feeling hits again, sharper this time, unsettling in a way I don't have a name for.
I look away. Because thinking about it would make it worse.
"Go say hi to your girlfriend," Declan adds, clearly enjoying himself.
"She's not-"
"Yeah, yeah," he cuts in. "PR, whatever. Go."
I ignore him and head over anyway.
Jess is mid-story about something that absolutely doesn't matter, Riley listening like it does, and Madi-
Madi looks up the second I get close.
"You didn't mess it up," she says.
"Still working on earning a compliment, I see."
"That was a compliment."
Jess leans forward. "It was. Don't push it."
Riley glances between us, her expression calm in that way that means she's noticing everything and saying nothing about it.
We talk for a few minutes, nothing complicated, nothing forced. Declan sits, Jess takes over the conversation, Riley balances it, and Madi-
doesn't fight every second of it.
She just stays. And I don't think about that too much. Because I'd notice what it means if I did.
?
The parking lot is colder than Phoenix, the kind of cold that sneaks up on you once you stop moving. It's late enough that most people are already leaving, cars pulling out in slow lines, headlights stretching across the asphalt.
This is where it should end. They get in their car.
We get in ours.
That's it.
Instead-
Jess claps her hands together suddenly. "Okay. Tiny problem."
Madi doesn't even look at her. "No."
"You don't even know what it is."
"I don't need to."
"It's logistical," Jess insists.
"That's worse."
Riley steps in like she always does, voice calm, measured. "We might have... underestimated space."
Madi finally turns, narrowing her eyes. "We drove here in the same car."
Jess gestures vaguely to the backseat. "We acquired things."
"What things?"
"Important things."
"That's not an answer."
"It's enough of one."
Madi looks between them slowly, suspicion building in a way that's almost impressive. "You're lying."
"I'm not lying," Jess says.
"You're lying badly."
Riley presses her lips together, which is the closest she gets to admitting anything.
Jess powers through. "It just makes more sense if you-" she gestures toward me again, like this is an obvious solution, "-ride back with him."
Madi blinks.
Once.
Then again. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes," Jess repeats, like she's already decided this.
Madi turns to Riley. "You're letting this happen."
Riley shrugs slightly. "It does make sense."
"It doesn't."
"It does."
"It didn't on the way here."
"That was before we-" Jess stops.
"Before you what?"
"Adjusted."
"That's not a real explanation."
"It doesn't have to be."
Madi exhales slowly, dragging a hand through her hair like she's deciding how much energy this is worth. Then she looks at me, like I'm somehow involved.
I don't say anything. Because anything I say makes me part of it.
Declan, meanwhile, is fully entertained, leaning against a car like he paid for front row seats.
"You planned this," Madi says finally.
"No," Jess says.
"Yes," Riley says.
Jess turns. "You were supposed to support me."
"I am," Riley replies. "Just honestly."
Madi lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."
"I've been told that," Jess says.
There's a pause. Not long, but just long enough for the decision to settle.
Madi adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, rolling it once like she's bracing herself.
"This is still stupid," she says.
"It is," Jess agrees immediately.
"And I'm not happy about it."
"Of course not."
"And this doesn't mean anything."
"Obviously."
Madi looks at Riley.
Riley smiles, small and knowing. "Text us when you get home."
Jess grabs Riley's hand, already backing toward their car. "Drive safe!"
"That sounds threatening," Madi calls.
"It's encouragement!"
They get in before she can argue more. And then-
they're gone. Just like that.
Madi stands there for a second, staring after them like she might go after the car just out of principle.
Then she looks at me. "This is somehow your fault."
"It's not."
"It feels like it is."
"That's not the same thing."
"It should be."
I unlock my car, pulling the passenger door open without making it a whole thing.
She hesitates, just a second, then gets in.
?
The drive starts quiet.
The road stretches out ahead, dark and mostly empty, the kind of drive that makes everything feel slower even when you're moving.
She leans back in her seat, looking out the window at nothing in particular.
"You didn't hate it," I say after a while.
"The game?"
"Yeah."
She shrugs slightly. "I didn't hate it."
"That's progress."
"Don't get used to it."
"I won't."
There's a pause.
"I meant what I said earlier," she adds after a moment. "You didn't mess it up."
"That's still not a real compliment."
"It's the best you're getting."
"I'll take it."
She glances at me briefly, then back out the window, but there's something different in it this time. Less guarded, more... open.
"I don't think I would've come," she says slowly, "if it was just about the deal."
I don't respond right away. Because that-
means something.
"Then why did you?" I ask.
She doesn't answer immediately. Just shifts slightly in her seat, turning toward me instead of the window.
"I don't know," she admits.
And that-
is more honest than anything she's said so far.
I glance at her for a second, longer than I should, before looking back at the road. The silence settles again, but it's not the same silence as before.
We stop for food somewhere halfway back, nothing fancy, just a place that's still open and doesn't ask questions. We sit in the car after, eating, talking about nothing that matters and everything that does without actually saying it.
She laughs, more than once. Not sharp or defensive, just real. And I don't think about that too much either. Because I'd notice what it means if I did.
?
Back on the road, it's quieter again, but not in a way that feels like distance. More like something settling.
The closer we get to Phoenix, the more the city lights start to bleed into the horizon, familiar and steady.
I pull into her street, stopping in front of her house.
The engine idles.
Neither of us moves right away.
She turns slightly toward me, like she's about to say something, then stops.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing."
"That wasn't nothing."
"It was."
I don't push it. She looks at me for a second longer than necessary. Then-
She leans in.
It's not hesitant, it's not dramatic, it just... happens, like it was already decided somewhere before this moment.
Her hand brushes lightly against my arm as she closes the space, the kiss soft at first, like she's testing something she's not sure about.
It deepens slightly, not rushed, not careful either, just real in a way that doesn't feel like anything we've been pretending.
I don't think, I just respond.
And for a second-
nothing else exists.
No deal.
No cameras.
No pretending.
Just this.
She pulls back first. Not far, just enough to breathe.
"That didn't happen," she says quietly.
"Right," I reply.
She studies my face like she's trying to decide something. Then shakes her head slightly, reaching for the door. "Goodnight, Caiden."
"Night."
She gets out before anything else can be said.
And I sit there for a second longer than I should, watching her walk up to her house, the door closing behind her.
The car is quiet again, but it's not the same quiet.
Because now-
there's no pretending that something didn't change.
Even if neither of us is going to say it out loud.