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At the door, he pauses. Doesn’t look back, just says, “For what it’s worth... I’m glad it’s you.”

Then he’s gone.What the fuck just happened?

Liam Steele was supposed to be exactly what he’s always been—an over-hyped headache with abs and an anger management problem. Griffin warned me.

“Watch your back with that one. He’s an explosion waiting to happen.”He’s not wrong… Isurvivedthe parking lot incident.

I’ve got the trauma—to prove it.

So no—he wasn’t supposed to walk in here, flash some almost-charm, and leave me blinking like I just got sideswiped by a grizzly bear in cologne.

But there he was, trying on decency like it fit. Like he hadn’t practically accused me of vehicular manslaughter because he couldn’t use his mirrors. And now I’m sitting here, staring at the door like it’s going to swing back open and give me answers.

It doesn’t.

My phone buzzes.

Griffin:

You meet that dirty fucker yet?

I don’t answer. Because the thing is… I did. And he didn’t growl. Or break something. Or accuse me of putting voodoo in his supplements. He said he was glad it was me.

Like it meant something…Like he wasn’t supposed to be the worst part of my day.

He was supposed to be a one-and-done annoyance. Not... whatever this was.

And I hate that it landed. Even for a second.

Shit.

Chapter ten

Liam

I’mthreebeersdeepand watching my teammate live my fucking dream.

The bar’s loud as hell—music pounding, voices competing over clinking glasses and the hockey game playing on every screen. But all I can focus on is Aiden’s arm draped around Aurora like he owns her, which, let’s be honest, he does. She’s laughing at something he whispered in her ear, and the way she looks at him makes my chest tight with something I refuse to call envy.

“Dude’s got it made,” Trent says, following my gaze. “Perfect girl, captain’s C, house in the hills. What else does a man need?”

“Fuck if I know,” Brody mutters into his beer. “Aurora’s a goddamn ten. I’d sell my soul for a girl like that.”

I take another long pull from my bottle, the beer doing nothing to cool the heat in my gut. “Must be nice,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “But relationships are distractions. Can’t afford that shit when you’re trying to prove yourself.”

I say it like I believe it—but the burn in my throat says otherwise.

Trent raises an eyebrow. “Distraction? Man, if I had someone looking at me the way she looks at him, I wouldn’t give a fuck about anything else.”

I shrug, staring at the label I’m methodically peeling off my bottle. “Different priorities, I guess.”

What I don’t say is that I’m jealous as hell. Not just of what Aiden has, but of how easy it looks for him. How natural. I’ve never had that—someone who looks at me like I hung the fucking moon instead of like I’m their next mistake.

“Come on, Liam,” Brody presses. “You’re telling me you’re too busy for fun? For a little—” He makes some crude gesture with his hands that has the table erupting in laughter.

I don’t laugh. Instead, I grip my bottle tighter, feeling the old ache creep back in. There was a time when distractions were all I had. A rotating cast of women who were happy to help me forget my problems for a few hours. The clubs, the parties, the kind of places where masks meant you could be anyone you wanted. Where rough hands and harder words were exactly what everyone came looking for.

Especially that night—the one that rewired my whole goddamn brain. It plays on repeat like a cursed highlight reel every time I try to sleep. Golden hair tangled in my fists, soft moans that turned into desperate cries, the way she surrendered completely to everything I gave her. The way she made me feel like a fucking king before disappearing like smoke.