28. Rose
Rose
Late Saturday afternoon, the most anticipated game of the year was upon them.
Rose walked to the stadium with Laurel and her brother, Evan—whom Laurel had begrudgingly introduced her to when they’d met outside the library.
Evan looked like a younger version of Kirin.
Clearly, the Callaghan men favored their father.
Though Evan’s grin was wide and unguarded in a way she only saw on Kirin around certain people.
When Rose suggested sitting with Laurel to calm Kirin down, she’d meant it, but she didn’t think Laurel would agree to it.
She’d been cautiously optimistic about their chances of being on better footing, but the bigger surprise was when Evan asked to come along too.
Kirin had warned her it was probably a trap, calling Evan a nosy little shit.
She’d waved him off. Younger siblings were born to be nosy—Evan couldn’t possibly be worse than her sisters. So far, all he’d done was smile at her and bicker with Laurel. Honestly, not bad.
The moment the teams took the field, though, Evan’s attention snapped to the action below.
Kirin was with his teammates, stretching and running routes, the picture of focus.
His intensity was sharp but never harsh—his teammates laughed easily around him, something Preston’s teams never managed.
Those quicksilver eyes that always seemed to find her, that dark, unruly hair he’d half-tamed today—made him look effortlessly in control.
The Westmont team was warming up on the other side of the field, and Preston stood just beyond Kirin. He was talking and laughing with his friends and two massive defenders, not a care in the world. Rose’s stomach turned.
He didn’t look like what he was. With his perfect smile, clean-cut hair, and bright blue eyes, he could still pass as charming to anyone who didn’t know better. But she did. She saw him now for what he was—an empty shell pretending to be whole.
She tugged the brim of Kirin’s hat lower.
Preston’s team was floundering this season, weighed down by the loss of some players, investigations, and whispers.
Most of his teammates kept their distance now.
The only ones still orbiting him were his best friends, Benji and Joseph.
Somehow, Preston remained untouched by the fallout, and that only made him look guiltier to her.
Beside her, Laurel squinted through oversized pink sunglasses. She scrunched her nose as if that might bring Kirin into sharper focus.
“Did you forget your contacts?” Rose asked.
“These are prescription,” Laurel said, adjusting them with a pout. “They’re supposed to help with my migraines.”
“Do they work?”
Laurel frowned, her brows pinching. “Undecided.”
“Prescription doesn’t mean magnifying, you know,” Evan said, earning a swat to the back of his head.
Rose smiled at their easy rhythm. “Bet a few guys down there wish they had magnifying glasses.”
Laurel laughed, relaxing as she twisted her honey-blonde hair into a messy bun. Her emerald Montgomery jersey, knotted at her waist, revealed a teasing strip of skin above her ripped jeans.
“I need to feel good today,” she said under her breath. “Bloody Mary’s making herself known.”
Rose chuckled. “Ah.”
“She’s just bitter because she lost to Mom at Scrabble last night,” Evan said, leaning forward with a grin.
“You are a terrible loser,” Rose murmured. Evan held out his fist to bump, and she tapped her own against it.
“Better than Evan,” Laurel objected.
“Wrong,” he shot back, and Laurel’s head snapped toward him.
“She cheated,” she said.
“Like you claim Kirin and I do at Wii tennis?” Evan laughed. “Gonna blame your brain like the controller after you replaced the batteries three times?”
“I don’t even know why we still have either of those damn games,” Laurel muttered.
Their bickering eased some of the lingering tension from earlier in the week. After a while, Laurel leaned into Rose’s side. “So Kirin said you were pretty closed off when you transferred because of what happened at Westmont.”
Rose glanced at her, wary, but Laurel’s expression was open—apologetic.
“I’m sorry I was so hard on you,” Laurel whispered. “I thought you were…” she trailed off, her nose scrunching. “Stuck-up? I didn’t realize it was because of the shit your ex-boyfriend and team put you through.”
Rose laughed once. “I told Coach what happened, but I didn’t want it spreading. I just wanted to play. No pity. No sympathy. A clean start.”
“Still,” Laurel said, grimacing. “We should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. You’ve worked your ass off. It’s ironic, really—we treated you the way we thought you’d treat us.”
Rose sighed. She didn’t need Laurel to apologize, but she appreciated it. She wouldn’t hold it against her, or the team.
“It’s fine,” Rose said. “Let’s just start over.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rose. Sorry for breaking your nose.”
Laurel laughed, shaking it. “I’m Laurel. Sorry for being the world’s worst captain.”
Their laughter faded into comfortable quiet—until a scuffle on the field snapped every head forward.
Preston was in Kirin’s face.
The air seemed to drop ten degrees as Kirin shoved him, his finger jabbing toward Preston’s chest as he barked something that made the crowd gasp.
Officials rushed in, coaches shouting as they pulled players apart.
Preston said something else—stupidly—and earned an immediate reprimand from the ref.
Her pulse hammered as the scene replayed on the Jumbotron.
Kirin’s face was tight, jaw set, his cheeks flushed with anger as he explained himself to the officials.
Laurel’s hand clamped around Rose’s arm. “He’s fine. It’s okay,” she whispered, but her voice shook.
Rose couldn’t look away. Kirin was talking to his coach now, gesturing sharply toward Preston, his expression unreadable.
“He’s good,” Laurel said again, squeezing harder. “The coaches will understand.”
“But—”
“He’s fine, Rose.”
Kirin disappeared into the tunnel with the rest of his team, and when he came back out for kickoff, that same intensity still burned in him. Controlled, simmering, dangerous.
Every time the camera found him, she felt it—his focus, his restraint, the effort it took not to explode again. And all she wanted, absurdly, achingly, was to touch him—to ease the tension running through his shoulders, to calm the storm she could see building.
At the start of the fourth quarter, the game was already slipping into an inevitable shutout. Rose barely believed it. Westmont was weak, yes, but she hadn’t expected this humiliation.
As the seconds ticked down, Montgomery’s fans roared louder while Westmont fell apart, piece by piece. By the final whistle, most of the Westmont crowd had cleared, leaving a sea of green and white surging onto the field.
Rose, Laurel, and Evan climbed over the barriers to join the rest of the fans on the field, pushing through the crowd toward the middle where the team had congregated to celebrate. They were scanning for Kirin and found him, his head down as he spoke with a teammate she didn’t recognize.
Laurel saw him too, yelling, “Callaghan! Ninety-six! Over here!”
Kirin didn’t look their way, so they fought through the mass of fans, Evan close behind. When Laurel shouted again and Kirin still didn’t look toward them, Rose whistled sharply, making a few heads turn. Kirin’s gray eyes found her immediately, and a grin broke across his face. Her stomach flipped.
He jogged to them, pushing through fans, smiling at the congratulations thrown his way until he met them halfway to ruffle Laurel’s bun, and give Evan a half hug. Then he focused on her. “Hey, Flower.”
“Hey,” she breathed, sliding her fingers into his sweat-damp hair as he wrapped an arm around her waist. The world narrowed to the warmth, the way his intense gaze met hers.
“You good?” he asked.
She nodded, though a flicker of worry cut through the joy when she glimpsed Preston watching from the sidelines, his expression dark and dangerous. But with Kirin holding her, she felt a fragile bubble of safety.
“You look good in green,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. His thumb traced her cheek as she leaned into him, savoring the contact, the intimacy. “Even better with my name on your back.”
Laurel cleared her throat, pulling Rose from the moment. She pressed one last kiss to Kirin’s lips, brushing her thumbs over his cheek before stepping back.
Kirin’s grin returned. “Time to celebrate.”
“What did Preston say before the game?” Laurel asked, and Kirin grimaced.
“Nothing I can repeat.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his hair, his grin returning as he looked at each of them. “Let’s not give him a second more of thought.”
“You’ve gotta shower first. You reek,” Evan commented, and Kirin laughed, tugging his brother in for a hug that he resisted until Kirin let him go.
“Alright, I’ll see you guys at Leon’s?” Kirin asked, and they all nodded. He leaned over and kissed Rose’s temple again, already backing through the crowd to the locker room when he said, “See you soon, Flower.”
Rose followed him with her eyes as he disappeared into the locker room, every step pulling at her heart. She, Laurel, and Evan made their way toward the dark parking lot beyond the stadium. Rose stopped, glancing toward the thinning crowd. “I’m going to wait for Kirin. We’ll meet you at Leon’s.”
“Rose—” Evan began, but she rubbed a hand down his arm.
“I’ll be fine.” Her voice was steady, though her pulse still thrummed from the excitement on the field. “I just want to grab his truck and wait at the back entrance. No one’s around, and I have a key.”
Evan still looked unconvinced, but she gave him a reassuring smile. Laurel tugged him gently.
“Come on. He’s parked right there.” She pointed toward the back of Kirin’s truck, past the old security building. “And honestly, we don’t want to watch the make-out session that’s about to happen.”
Laurel tugged Evan after her, her smile easy as she teased. “Don’t be too late.”