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Acting like she doesn’t crawl under my skin is already a full-time job.

Now I’ve got to fake-date her in for the cameras—smile, touch, flirt—while her brother’s in my phone, threatening to break my face.

Perfect.

How the hell am I supposed to pull this off without blowing everything up?

The next morning, Coach Barnes corners me in the equipment room.

“Need a number for your jersey,” he says, dropping a form on the bench.

I glance at the blank line. “Thought I was still on trial.”

“You were. But you’ve been playing like you actually want to be here.” He crosses his arms. “Management wants it official before the charity thing.”

The charity thing. Right. My fake relationship debut.

“Seventeen,” I say.

He nods, makes a note. “Jersey’ll be ready by Saturday.”

That’s it. No speech about commitment or belonging. Just business.

But when he walks out, I’m holding a form that says I’m staying.

That says the Cyclones aren’t just another stop.

Chapter eighteen

Katarina

It’sbeenforty-eighthourssince I last saw Liam Steele.

Not that I’m counting.

You’d think I’d feel clearer.

Instead, I feel like I’m waiting for something to detonate.

My phone lights up and my pulse spikes.

Every time.

Because I know exactly who he is. What he’s done to me. How he made me come so hard I literally saw stars.

And the worst part… he has no freaking clue.

It’s Wednesday morning, and the air in my house is quiet, calm. Deceptive. I sip my coffee and try to convince myself that today will be uneventful. Just another morning pretending this charade with the man who ruined me for every other guy on the planet isn’t eating me alive from the inside out.

The man who had me begging for more.

The man who had me pressed against a wall and sucked marks into my throat like he was marking territory he didn’t know he’d already claimed.

I check the clock again. I’ve got twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and pull myself together enough to not look like a woman who’s been reliving the best sex of her life on repeat.

I crank the shower hot enough to feel borderline illegal.

Steam clouds the glass, and I just stand there, letting the water hit me while I remember everything my body won’t let me forget.