Chapter 15
AFTER THE WHISTLE (KIERAN)
“Nice goal,” Mason says at the bench, knocking my shoulder pad. “That shut Reed up.”
Reed’s expression is pure poison behind his cage. “Enjoy your moment, hero. She’ll figure you out eventually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means clocks tick, golden boy.” He leans close, voice low. “Isabelle wants results. You really think you can keep playing hero and villain at the same time?”
It lands like a blindside hit I never saw coming.
“Eyes up,” Coach McCarthy barks. “You play for the crest, not your egos. Next line.”
Reed shoulders past, heading back out. “Keep that jersey on her, O’Connor. Wouldn’t want her to forget who she belongs to.”
I don’t answer.
Because he’s right. And wrong. And I’m so far in over my head I can’t see the surface anymore.
The game ends in noise and bodies and raised arms. We win. I don’t feel it.
The horn sounds as I slide into the boards. My teammates mob me, but I can barely feel it through the guilt pressing down on my chest.
I look up at the stands one more time.
She’s jumping, cheering, completely unaware that every moment of this—the jersey, the goal, the gesture—is built on a lie that’s going to break her.
And I’m the one holding the hammer.
The locker room after a win should feel electric. Instead, it’s just loud—music, laughter, the hollow celebration of a game won but something else lost.
I’m still in half my gear when my phone buzzes.
Three texts. Liam.
LIAM
Cabin this weekend. You confirmed, right?
Erin and Sophie are excited to meet your girl
Bring her Friday night. Nonnegotiable, rookie
I stare at the screen until the words blur.
Liam and Erin want to meet her. My siblings who know me better than anyone, who’ll see through this in five minutes flat. Along with Sophie, Dmitri, Nate, Eden, Finn, and Jessica—people who’ve known me since I was a kid trying to keep up with my brother’s shadow.
If I bring her, they’ll know it’s not real.
If I don’t, I’ll have to explain why my “girlfriend” can’t meet my family.
Either way, the walls are closing in.
“You good?” Mason asks, towel around his neck.
“Yeah.” I shut off the phone. “Just family stuff.”
He nods, but his eyes are sharp. “That goal was clean. Helluva tip.”
“Thanks.”
“You dedicate it to her?”
I don’t answer.
Mason sits on the bench beside me, voice dropping. “Look, man. I know this started as—” He stops, choosing words carefully. “But she’s real. You get that, right?”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re in deeper than you think. And when this blows up—”
“It won’t.”
“It will.” His voice is flat, certain. “Question is whether you’re ready for it.”
I don’t have an answer.
Riley sticks his head around the corner. “O’Connor! Press wants you.”
I grab a hoodie, heading for the media room, but Mason’s words follow me.
When this blows up.
Not if. When.
By the time I finish with the press and take a shower, the arena’s mostly empty. Just security and a few stragglers. I check my phone.
WREN
Great game
I’m heading out. See you for tutoring Tuesday?
Also, Theo texted. He saw the jersey. He asked if we’re serious
My chest tightens.
KIERAN
What’d you tell him?
WREN
That we are. That was the plan, right?
KIERAN
Right. The plan
I stare at the messages until my screen goes dark.
She thinks this is working. Thinks Theo’s noticing her, thinks the fake relationship is achieving exactly what she wanted.
And it is. That’s the worst part.
Everything’s going according to plan. Hers. Mine. Isabelle’s.
Except plans have a way of collapsing when you forget they’re built on lies.
My phone buzzes again.
ISABELLE
The jersey was a nice touch
I shut off my phone and press my palms against my eyes.
Liam wants me to bring Wren to the cabin. Isabelle wants proof I’m closing the deal. Wren thinks this is about making Theo jealous. I’m caught in the middle, playing a game I’m starting to hate with a girl who doesn’t deserve any of it.
Reed’s voice echoes in my head, “You really think you can keep playing hero and villain at the same time?”
No.
But I don’t know how to stop.