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Chapter fourteen

Katarina

I should’ve slammed the door the second I got home.

Instead, I lean on it like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. My palms are clammy. My heart? Still thundering like I was the one sprinting suicide drills.

Not because of work.

Because of him.

Liam Steele—walking trouble, cocky as hell, grudge-holding bastard with a smirk that could get a nun to sin.

And today, he figured it out.

I saw the moment it clicked. The second his eyes landed on my name tag and he put two and two together. Novak. Griffin Novak’s little sister. The same guy who made his life hell on skates. The guy Liam would probably pay to punch in the face if he didn’t already owe him his entire trade history.

And now? He knows I’m blood.

Not just the team nutritionist. Not just the girl with the clipboard and boundaries.

The sister of the one person in the league—Liam—probably wishes dead.

I kick off my shoes and toss my bag onto the counter like it insulted me. The house is dark except for the soft glow from the kitchen underlight. Too quiet. Too calm for what’s happening inside my chest.

Because I don’t know what scares me more—what Liam knows now… or what I know.

That tattoo.

The lock. Inked over his heart like a goddamn brand. The same one I ran my fingers over that night, nails dragging across sweat-slicked skin as he thrust deeper, rougher. The way he whispered things I haven’t stopped replaying since. Words that wrecked me. Ruined me.

And now, the man who made me come so hard I literally forgot my own name—Is the same man who just found out mine.

I slam open the fridge. Nothing in here is cold enough to cool what’s happening under my skin. I grab a bottle of water, crack the cap, and drink half of it like it might drown the memory of that tattoo.

Like I could wash the heat off my skin. Like I could erase the sound I made when he bit my shoulder and told me I was his. But that voice, that grip—it’s his. And now I have to pretend I never let it inside me.

It doesn’t.

I attempt to call Aurora...habit. Surprise she's putting Skylar to sleep.

I text Layla: Emergency. Call me in 10 or I’m showing up at your place with tequila and a death wish.

She calls in two.

“Jesus, Kat. You okay?”

“No.”

I don’t even wait for her reply before unloading.

“I slept with Liam Steele.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have?”

Layla exhales hard. “I’m bracing for impact. Keep going.”

“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.

But I don’t have a choice.

Not when Liam’s already looking at me like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.

Not when every time he walks into my office, I feel that ghost of a night pressing up behind my eyes.

Not when I swear I’ve caught him watching my mouth like it knows something he’s forgotten. Like some part of him remembers—but hasn’t put the pieces together yet.

That heat. That moan I swore I’d never let escape my throat again.

And not when part of me—some traitorous, aching, reckless part—wants him to figure it out.

Wants him to remember exactly how I came apart under him.

Because as much as I hate him now?

I haven’t stopped wanting him since.