Chapter 31
Relief flooded through me, physical and immediate. “Fuck yeah! Andrew, that’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Yeah,” he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “Turns out the league doesn’t hate me as much as I thought.”
I laughed despite myself. “Shocking.”
“My agent already set up some celebration thing tonight before I even left the building,” he went on. “Team dinner. Big steaks. Overpriced wine.” He paused. “Apparently it was planned the second the hearing ended. I didn’t even get a say in it.”
“Oh.” I kept my voice even. Of course it was a team thing. He’d just gotten his suspension lifted, of course he’d be surrounded by his team, their noise, their congratulations.
Not. . . me.
Which was fine. That made sense. I shouldn’t have expected—
“Come with me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I want you there.” His tone shifted, lighter now, teasing. “Unless you’ve got better plans with someone else. In which case, let me know so I can murder them.”
“Andrew,” I said carefully, “won’t that be weird, if it’s just for the team?”
“No?” He scoffed. “It’s dinner. You’re allowed to eat steak in public, Matthew.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” His voice dropped, softer but still buzzing with energy. “You were the first person I called. I want you there.”
There it was. No hedging. No secrecy. No we should probably keep this quiet.
“I just got my career back,” he continued, warmth threading through the cockiness. “I’m not spending the night pretending the best part of my day doesn’t exist.”
My breath caught.
This was so different it almost scared me.
Ben had hidden me in corners. In hotel rooms. In silence.
Andrew was inviting me into the light like it hadn’t even occurred to him to do anything else.
“I—” I hesitated. “People will notice.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “That’s kind of the point.”
I should say no. The team would see us together, and I knew they would draw conclusions.
“Okay,” I said instead.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Text me the address.”
“I’ll pick you up,” he said immediately. “Eight.”
“Andrew—”
“Relax,” he cut in, amused. “I want to show you off a little. Sue me.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I stared at my phone, trying to process what had just happened.
Andrew’s suspension was lifted. He could play again. And he wanted me at the celebration dinner.
As what?
At five minutes before eight, Andrew was leaning against the driver’s side door of his car. Dark jeans, black shirt, leather jacket. His hair was styled, not the usual mess, and he looked—
Unfairly good.
He straightened when he saw me, eyes tracking over me in a way that made my skin warm.
“You look nice,” he said.
“So do you.”
After opening my door for me, Andrew slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The car rumbled to life, and we pulled into traffic. His hand found my thigh after two blocks, resting there like it belonged.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Should I be?”
“They’re going to know.”
“Know what?”
He glanced at me, then back at the road. A grin tugged at his mouth. “About us.”
My heart kicked. “Is there an us? Like officially?”
“Fuck yeah there is.”
His hand squeezed my thigh.
“What?” He shot me a look, eyes bright, almost wild with energy. “You gonna tell me you don’t want this? That you’re not mine?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what’s the problem?” His thumb traced circles on my leg, possessive. “I’m on top of the fucking world right now, Matthew, and I’m not hiding shit.”
“And in front of the team?”
“The team can deal with it.” He laughed, sharp and bright. “Half of them already think we’re fucking anyway. Little Morrison asked me yesterday if you were my boyfriend. Kid’s got no filter.”
“What did you say?”
“I said not yet.” He glanced at me again, cocky smile firmly in place. “But I’m working on it.” His hand slid higher on my thigh. “So what’s it gonna be, Quinn? You in or you out? Because I’m all fucking in, and I need to know where you stand.”
The rawness beneath the bravado got me. The vulnerability hiding under all that swagger.
“Okay,” I said finally.
“Okay?” He pulled his hand back, eyebrows raised. “That’s it? Just okay?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say you’re mine.” The cockiness cracked just slightly. “I want you to say this is real.”
I grabbed his hand, laced our fingers together. “It’s real.”
The grin that split his face was blinding.
“Damn right it is.”