Chapter 15
CORNERED (LIZ)
The ferry docks with a metallic groan, and the crowd surges forward.
I can still feel his hands on my feet.
The way my body reacted.
The way I ran.
Last night I stood outside his bedroom door at two a.m., hand on the knob, breathing hard. I finally forced myself to turn away.
The line behind me nudges forward. I make my legs move. When I step onto the ramp to grab my bag, Leo is already holding it, his duffel slung over one shoulder, my tote hooked in his hand.
Then his other palm finds mine and locks in. He holds my hand like it’s normal. Like it’s earned. It terrifies me more than being grabbed ever did, but I let it happen.
“I’m okay to carry my stuff, big boy,” I say, even as my grip tightens on his.
His head turns, gaze dropping to my mouth. He looks away before I can decide what to do with that.
“Take the help, Flash.” His voice is a shade lower than it was a second ago.
“Leo.”
“Let a man be useful.”
I huff but fall into step beside him as we hit the boardwalk. The sun is bright enough to feel personal. The air smells of salt and sunscreen, kids laughing at the playground beside the dock, waves smacking the shore in rhythm.
Leo drops half a pace until we’re aligned, shoulder close without crowding.
“Thanks for coming. I know it wasn’t easy getting time off.”
I glance at him. He doesn’t mention the couch. The questions. The way he looked at me like he already knew the answer.
And I don’t either.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I had vacation days to burn. And it’s Fire Island. Not exactly an imposition.”
“You’ll have some time off before your classes start?”
“About a week before orientation.” I adjust my sunglasses. “I’m planning to go see my parents.”
The words leave my mouth before I’ve decided to say them.
“Where are your parents?”
I hesitate.
“Germany,” I say quickly. “Ulm.”
He raises an eyebrow. His hand tightens around mine just enough to register. “Tell me the dates.”
I blink. “What?”
He looks at me calmly. “When you go, I’m coming with you. We’ll make it work.”
I stop walking.
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“You have camp.”
“Full camp probably won’t start until late August.”
I pull my hand free. “No.”
He waits me out.
“I don’t want my parents to get the wrong impression.”
“Do they know about our arrangement?”
“They’ve seen the coverage. They know about Travis. I told them it’s… pretend.”
His gaze holds mine. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” A beat. “Unless you’re worried they’ll like me too much.”
I look away first.
Nate’s house comes into view—glass and sharp lines, modern and unapologetic. Before we even reach the steps, I hear music, bass thumping through open windows. Male laughter layered over it.
Leo’s eyes flick to me. “Want to run back to the ferry?”
“No.”
His brows lift.
“I mean,” I add, “there’s always the next boat.”
The corner of his mouth moves. “Fair enough.”
The front door is open. Shoes are scattered in the entry like a small riot happened. The smell hits next—garlic, smoke, something rich.
“Of course Russo’s cooking.”
Leo’s voice goes fond. “It’s his love language.”
Inside, it’s a zoo of beautiful athletes pretending they’re normal people. Big chests. Board shorts.
Nate’s at the stove—bare feet, hair damp, towel over one shoulder—running the kitchen the way he runs the crease: calm, precise, tracking ten things at once.
“Carver,” he calls, then his eyes catch mine. “Liz. Hey.”
“Hey.”
Two guys hover near the island, trying to help and failing.
One lifts a cutting board. “I can—”
Nate points with the utensil. “No.”
“I was just going to—”
“No,” Nate repeats.
The other guy backs away with both hands up, laughing. “Chef’s in a mood.”
Eden slips in behind Nate and loops her arm through mine, steering me deeper into the room.
“You’re here,” she says. “Finally. I need reinforcements. The testosterone is intense.”
“Looks like we’re still outnumbered.”
Her gaze moves over my face—quick inventory—then she releases me. “Okay. Meet people.”
Nate tips his chin toward the blond guy with the cutting board. “Matthias. New second goalie.”
Matthias gives a polite nod. “Hello.”
“Matthias is our locker room witch,” Nate adds, deadpan. “Keeps the bad juju out.”
Matthias sighs like the ribbing doesn’t affect him.
“He circles the crease three times before warm-ups,” Nate continues. “Calls it an impenetrable energy field.”
“It is,” Matthias says, utterly serious. “Very hard for puck to get past.”
Nate jerks his chin toward him. “Laugh all you want. His numbers go stupid when he does it.”
The other man snorts. “Which is deeply annoying, because now none of us can call it superstition. I’m Adam, by the way.” He waves a hand in our direction.
Matthias doesn’t smile. He reaches for another knife, lining it up with the cutting board before he picks it up. “Luck is for people who did not prepare.”
“Pure witchcraft,” Nate confirms solemnly.
Eden points between them. “Matthias Lindberg: goalie, wizard. Adam Novak: right winger, professional menace. Might’ve seen his stretching routine on TikTok.” She pauses. “Jessica and Sophie’s brother.”
Leo lifts his chin. “What’s up.”
Adam’s eyes go bright. “Dude. That last fight—”
“Insane,” Matthias cuts in at the same time, his accent rounding the vowels. He offers Leo his hand, then glances at me and offers it, polite. “I watched the replay three times.”
Leo shakes his head. “You need a better hobby.”
“This is the best hobby,” Adam’s voice drops toward me. “He broke a man’s will on national television.”
“I didn’t break him,” Leo says, amused. “We went seven rounds.”
“You were efficient,” Matthias says. “No wasted panic.” A beat. “Most men get louder under pressure. You got smaller.”
That sounds exactly right. Leo doesn’t swell under pressure. He condenses.
Adam lights up. “Efficient. That’s basically a marriage proposal, coming from a German citizen.”
Matthias’s gaze drops to my hand. To the ring. “I might be late to the party, though.” His mouth tilts. “Congratulations. I’ve seen you guys all over the news cycle.”
Leo steps in, hand settling at my waist and presses a quick kiss to my temple. Warmth skates down my spine before I can stop it.
“That’s right,” Leo says. “Off the market.”
Nate checks his phone. “Dmitri says their crew’s leaving his place in thirty. Dinner in an hour.”
“Okay,” Eden cuts in. “Let’s get everyone settled.”
She points without looking, already in command.
“Adam, you’re bunking with Matthias,” Nate adds.
Adam wiggles his eyebrows at Matthias, then salutes lazily.
“Nate and I have the master upstairs,” Eden continues, scooping up a stray sweatshirt and tossing it onto the banister. “Kieran and Wren are coming with the next ferry, they’ll take the double downstairs.”
Eden glances between Leo and me. “You two are upstairs,” she says, like she’s stating the weather. “The room across from the master. Leo knows.”
She looks at me for a beat, checking in.
I shrug and follow Leo, who’s already gathered our bags. When we step into the room, he jerks his chin toward the bathroom. “Door sticks.”
His bag lands by the dresser. The windows are open, sheer curtains lifting with the breeze, the house still audible below us—laughter, footsteps, glass against glass.
He leaves his phone on the nightstand closest to the door. “I’ll take this side.” Then he steps back so smoothly it feels deliberate.
The door stays open. The noise of the house carries up the stairs.
The bed is made for two.
And he’s already given me space.
Like he knows I’ll come to him eventually.
Fuck.