The Replay (The Seattle Strike #4)

1. Chapter 1

Dom

Walking into a party where I might see the only woman I ever loved is the last thing I want to do. It's been six years since Mariana and I broke up. Four years and two months since she got married. Three months since I learned she's getting a divorce.

Not that I'm counting. I'm not. But it tests the limits of my strength.

She recently moved into town and, worse, came to work for my team alongside her sister. I've had to prepare. Keep an eye on things, to make sure I'm not troubled by the whole thing.

It might have helped if I had a gorgeous woman on my arm tonight.

The kind who enjoys being by my side, who wants to get in my bed, and will let me date her for a while.

For as long as it feels good, and until one of us is done.

If we're honest, that's usually me. But, no.

I stopped dating six weeks ago, leaving me to ring a doorbell and stand waiting all on my own.

Counting down the seconds until the door opens.

Too aware of the vacant space next to me, and the way absence has followed me around since Mariana left the country all those years ago.

And, shit, I have to pretend this welcome party I was invited to doesn't mean anything to me.

Even if I hate that I'm here. I said I would never spend time with anyone from her family again, after how things ended between Mariana and me.

Yet here I am, invited by Cora Sinclair, my new General Manager…

and Mariana's sister. Who may or may not have invited my ex to the informal get-together, too.

The door in front of me finally opens with a fast, wide swing— it's Cora.

"Dom." She grins and lets me in. "I'm so glad you came."

Relief washes over me that it's her and not her sister, but I only nod. Cora doesn't falter and invites me inside with a smile.

I enter the condo with my hands deep in my jacket pockets.

My stomach twists, and I stand taller to hide the discomfort.

Ever since college and the judgmental stares I got for growing up poor, I've favored detachment as my armor.

On the night I might see Mariana again, feigning indifference is how I shield myself.

I purse my lips. "I couldn't really say no to my GM, could I?"

The humor I tried to infuse into my words is nowhere to be seen, but I don't fix it. Cora studies me carefully, her lips turning up at the corners.

We stand by the closed door. I force my face into indifference. She takes my measure, calculating, and I don't want to show her it affects me. I raise an eyebrow.

"Listen." Cora gives me a serious look. "I know my family didn't make it easy on you back when you and Mariana were together, but that has no bearing on tonight.

This is a simple welcome party. I'm not hosting as the GM but as one of several people who started in the front office around the same time, including your friend Penélope.

She's here and so are the rest of your friends, and some other known faces.

Just an icebreaker. I promise I won't let the past impact how I do my job. "

It seems sincere. I believe her. But I don't ask her if Mariana is one of the new people who are here.

"All right," I say. "Welcome to Seattle and the Strike, Socorro."

She smirks at my use of her full name. She's gone by Cora since before I met her.

"Do you still enjoy a cold beer?" Cora asks. "Drinks are in the kitchen whenever you're ready."

"Thanks. I'll go grab something."

"Please, go right ahead."

I nod but I ignore the kitchen and walk into the living space instead.

It's not a large gathering, with about twenty people mingling in the large room.

Lots of light colors, and black industrial touches set up the modern stage.

The windows go from floor to ceiling, providing a beautiful view of the city.

My friends make up nearly half the guests, sitting on one of the big white sectionals.

I sit at the end of a chaise, with Damián and Nat next to me, Logan and Evie next, then Saint and Ames.

Leon sits on a giant armchair at our side, with Pen on his lap.

I greet my teammates and their partners.

All so settled, all so happy. Even Bear and Pen, who married just a few months ago after swearing they were only friends for twenty years.

Like everyone else in the group, they're desperately in love.

I recognize the feeling because I felt it once, too.

I see it in the way they all look at each other.

How they talk to each other. The plans they make together, for a future without an expiration date.

I'm so, so happy for them. Truly. It's a wonderful feeling. Genuinely glad for them. Not jealous at all. Meanwhile, I'm a fool who is here alone, stealing glances around the room, only in case I catch a glimpse of her and I have to steady myself.

It took me more than a year to recover from everything after we ended things. I will not go back to that. This football season, I'll thrive. If Mariana and her parents happen to see me living my best life, even better. I'll just have to keep strong lines.

It's fine. I can be cold. Indifferent. Like what happened between Mariana and me has been forgotten by the passage of time. Then I'll get to go back to the life I fought so hard to build for my mom, her mom, and me.

"Yeah, this party was Cora's idea," Pen leans over and says.

Music plays around us, helping conceal her words. Her volume is only high enough for us to hear. Still, she looks around to make sure no one is listening to our conversation.

Pen started working for the Strike two weeks ago, and is our new insider to the front office gossip.

Perfect timing, since it's the middle of the pre-season.

It gives her just enough lead up to get settled before the team goes hard at it all over again.

From what I hear, this year will be just as intense, if not more intense than the last. It's to be expected, when we want to do something as rare as winning the championship twice in a row.

Evie nods. "Cora came to me and told me she wanted to have a 'new life in Seattle' party, but didn't know anyone. Apparently the Sinclairs are a big family, but no one is flying in. She needed help figuring out who to invite."

"She told me the same thing." Pen snuggles closer to Bear. "It's Cora and Mariana, plus an older sister who lives in the UK, two brothers up in Canada, and a third brother in the US as well. I think Cora's trying hard to make a life for herself here, which I respect."

"Yeah, and I think Mariana has high hopes for her year with the Strike too.

" Evie glances at me. "I haven't wanted to look much into it…

yet… but the rumor is that the Sinclairs are a complicated family.

Dad is British and a heavyweight in the entertainment world, while Mom comes from world-known Latinamerican diplomats.

These days, they're primarily based in North America but have businesses and projects in Europe too. "

Her eyes don't leave me. I stare right back, determined to match her.

"Apparently," Pen says, "coming to the Strike is Cora's and Mariana's way to step away from their parents' world.

There must be a story there, right? Beyond Mariana's recent divorce. All I know is Mariana has always done philanthropic work, but this is the first time she’s worked for a for-profit corporation as a standard-issue employee. "

Evie smirks. "Is it possible to be a standard-issue employee for the team, when your dad owns one of the three major sports networks?"

"What?!" Nat exclaims.

Everyone turns to Evie, but she's locked in a staring contest with me.

She knows this is old news to me, of course.

All my friends know about my past with Mariana.

They learned about it when we met Cora at the team's ring ceremony.

I know them, and I know they've been keeping an eye on Mariana and me, waiting to see where things go between us.

But they don't have any details, and Evie's reveal about the Sinclairs comes as a shock.

All at once, our friends catch on to the way we look at each other. The group turns to me, echoing a fake tennis match between Evie and I.

She leans in. It's a challenge. I raise an eyebrow. She smirks. I cross my arms.

"Stop that." I stare at each of them in the eye. "I'm not going to fill in the blanks for you all."

"Stop what?" Evie tells me with fake confusion. "No one has said anything."

Logan chuckles.

I roll my eyes. "I'm going to grab a drink. You can discuss whether I care about Mariana working for the Strike to your hearts' content while I'm gone. Hint— I don't."

"But the whole point is to see your reaction," Saint says. "How are we supposed to know if that's true otherwise?"

I wink at him. "You'll have to live with the doubt."

They laugh. I shake my head at them, ignore them all, and go to the kitchen.

At first glance, it appears empty. A big, white room with what seems like endless storage space. I don't get to take in all the details. As soon as I approach the fridge, I notice the plush, generous ass of someone bending over next to a nearby lower cupboard.

I blink a few times. The plump, indulgent shape stops me in my tracks.

Mariana.

I may not have seen her in six years— bending over or otherwise— but my brain did the math and it's fully certain.

My heart leaps. My pulse skyrockets. I grind my teeth, and remind myself I must feel nothing. I planned for this moment. Nonchalance is the goal. Credible detachment. Like the fact we were once hopelessly in love has no bearing on us today. But I didn't expect it to happen quite like this.

I cross my arms. "I wasn't sure you'd be here… and now this."

"Oh my God!"

She straightens and turns around in a single, fluid move.

Her large, brown eyes stare at me. She dresses with a more elegant style than she did back then, in wide dark tan trousers and a lavender blouse that criss-crosses at the front.

Her lips are unpainted, but her eyeliner is sharp in a way I’ve never seen before.

Her dark, straight hair brushes her shoulders— it's not a waterfall down her back like it was in college.

Though it's just as shiny. My fingertips itch to touch it again, and check if it's as soft as I remember.

Heartbreakingly beautiful, with an edge honed by time I didn't expect. It fits her.

But I force a neutral line to my mouth. I bring my shoulders down to a relaxed position.

Like I'm full of apathy. As if knowing that our roads might cross again didn't have me losing interest in dating altogether.

Not for any delusions of what could happen between us.

Never that. I won't put my heart on the chopping block, to be torn apart again and again by the same person.

My mom taught me well, after my dad left.

After she cared for me alone with my abuela, including that year after things ended with Mariana.

The one thing no one can take away is my pride.

I fist my hands, hidden against my torso. I will not give in to the impulse and touch her. Instead, I give her a small, detached smile. Until I notice the wooden board she grips in front of her. The kind someone uses for charcuterie displays. Only it's shaped like a dick.

And damn my heart, but it responds to the view despite my intentions, and I laugh.