Page 46

The forest is quiet again. Like it’s holding its breath after what it just witnessed.

“Wait up,” I say to Eli, and Caleb follows. “I just want to get out of here.”

Eli nods, understanding.

We reach the McLaren, and the guys have a silent conversation with their eyes before they get into their cars and drive off.

I get into the backseat and silently look at Caleb to ask if he’ll join me. He follows me in.

Eli starts his car and drives off.

Before I can say anything, Caleb is grabbing my face, staring into my eyes. The silent ask means everything. It means he chooses me, that our little mishap is in the past, and he would rather be here.

“Maya?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Done with her. Like I said, there’s only one girl I want to fuck.”

I kiss him and he deepens it, spreading my lips with his tongue. I glance at Eli, who’s staring at me in the mirror as Caleb continues to ignite every cell in my body. I can’t tell if Eli approves of this or not, but I don’t care right now. Right now, I have Caleb, and that’s all that matters.

His fingers dig into my jeans and immediately hook into me. I cry out, feeling an orgasm start to rip through my body.

“My perfect little bunny,” he moans, working me faster.

Stars explode behind my eyelids, and Caleb drinks in the sounds I’m making.

When he pulls his hands out, he sucks on them and I inhale, turned on by the look in his eyes.

Eli cuts through the silence, “Where to?”

Caleb kisses me as I melt into the seat. “Take me home, please. Now that I know the truth, there’s something that I have to do.”

The thought of telling my dad that I’m seeing not only but two of his players sends anxiety down my spine, but I’m tired of hiding and pretending that I’m not head over heels for these two.

Dinner smells like garlic and butter. Dad made pasta again, which means it was probably a long day. He always reaches for carbs when the team’s pissing him off. I set the table while he strains noodles and grumbles under his breath about missed shots and sloppy defense.

The house feels normal. Safe, and I’m thankful for it.

I sit down across from him, watching as he piles food onto our plates. He’s humming a song under his breath, and I grip my fork tighter than I need to.

He finally sits. “So,” he says, scooping a mountain of spaghetti into his mouth. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

I blink. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at your food like you want to kill it.”

I exhale a laugh, even though nothing about this is funny. My chest tightens. I set my fork down.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I admit, and I go a little lightheaded.

He freezes, mid-chew. Swallows slowly. “Okay.”

I fold my hands in my lap. “It’s about the guys I’ve been seeing.”

He raises a brow. “ Guys? As in plural?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to not hide in shame. “Eli and Caleb.”

He leans back in his chair. “Eli Grayson and Caleb McCabe?”

I nod.

He drags a hand down his face. “Christ, Sienna. Are you serious?”

“I’m not asking for permission,” I say quickly. “I just… I need you to hear me out.”

He’s quiet, eyes locked on mine. I force the words out.

“There’s been some stuff going on. Things that got out of hand.

They protected me. And I know what people say about them — the fighting, the trouble, the Brotherhood stuff — but they’ve never made me feel unsafe.

Not once.” I wince because that last part is a lie.

Caleb freaked me the fuck out at first, but I stand by my choice of words.

I need to convince my dad that everything is okay.

He stares for a long moment, jaw tight.

“You’re talking about two Ravens,” he says finally. “You understand that, right? These boys—they don’t just play hockey. They’re chaos. You’re not just dating athletes. You’re stepping into something ugly. And if they drag you down with them—”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I trust them.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table. His voice drops, not angry — just weary. “You’re my daughter. My kid . I’ve watched you fall apart and put yourself back together more times than I can count. I don’t care how grown you are — you get hurt, I bleed with you.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” I whisper.

He exhales through his nose. “No, you’re not. Which means I have to let you make your own messes, even when I want to lock you in this house and throw your phone in a lake.”

I smile, faint but real.

“But Sienna,” he says, voice rough, “if either of them touches a hair on your head—”

“I’ll be the first to bury them,” I say.

He glares at me for a moment and then lets out a soft chuckle. “That’s my girl.”

We eat the rest of dinner quietly. No arguments. No judgment. Just a dad trying to trust his daughter, and a daughter finally choosing not to pretend she’s not different anymore.