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“It was weeks ago. At that masked party you dragged me to. He was…” My voice lowers. “Good. Like, lose-your-name, black-out-the-world good.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Repeatedly. I thought you were being dramatic.”

“I wasn’t. And I didn’t know who he was. And now? He’s on my team. I see him twice a week in spandex. And today, he saw my name tag.”

“Oh, shit!”

“Yeah. Oh, shit.”

I sink onto the couch, tucking my legs under me. My throat’s tight. The look was enough—stunned, guarded. Like he just recognized the fallout before the bomb even hit.

“Think he’s gonna out you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think he knows I’m her.”

Layla goes quiet. “You mean you?”

“Yeah. He knows I’m Griffin’s sister. But I don’t think he knows I’m the girl from that night.”

Yet.

Because he will. Eventually.

And when he does? Everything goes to hell.

He’ll hate himself. He’ll definitely hate me. And Griffin?

My brother will detonate. Take me with him. Doesn’t matter that I’ve earned every certification, built this career from nothing, or that I’ve kept my head down longer than half the guys on that roster. To Griffin, I’ll always be his little sister playing dress-up in a man’s arena.

This?

This is gasoline on a fire already burning under glass.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

Layla’s voice softens. “You care about him.”

I shut it down before the thought can land. “No.”

Too fast. Too flat. And way too close to the truth.

I close my eyes and press the cold bottle to my cheek. “Maybe. But not in a way that makes sense. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him. He’s cocky, dismissive, and definitely doesn’t remember that night like I do. If he did, he’d know already.”

“Kat…”

“I can’t tell him. I can’t risk my job, Layla. Or Griffin. Or—God—I can’t even think about what would happen if the team found out. It would ruin me.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling.

“I’m going to pretend I don’t remember.”

Lie to myself long enough and maybe I’ll forget the way my legs shook after. How I didn’t just want him—I wanted him to wreck me again. I still do. And that’s the worst part. The shame isn’t that I slept with Liam Steele. It’s that I want to do it again, knowing exactly who he is.

“You sure that’ll work?”

No.