Page 172 of The Play Maker

She shakes her head, voice soft and raw. “You’re not dumb.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and without thinking, I reach out, pressing my lips against it, kissing it away.

“I should’ve told you the moment I figured it out,” I say, cupping her face gently. “I know that. But I was scared. ScaredI’d lose you. That I’d fuck it all up before I even had a chance to be yours.”

I shake my head, desperate to get it all out. “But Maisie… finding out it was you? That you were Cherry? That was the best moment of my life.”

She makes a soft, broken sound, and it punches straight through me.

“I was already falling for both of you. And then I realized… it was always you. Every message, every night I couldn’t wait to talk, every secret, every late-night rant—it was all you.”

She stares at me like she’s afraid to believe it, like if she blinks, I’ll disappear.

“Falling?” she repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

I smile, my heart pounding. “Yeah, baby. I’m so in love with you.”

Her breath catches, lips trembling.

“I’m in love with you, Maisie Wilson,” I say with absolute certainty. “Not Cherry. Not some perfect version behind a screen. Just you. The girl who makes spreadsheets for fun and still blushes when I tell her she’s beautiful, the girl who skates like she was born for it, who gave me her time, her patience, her trust—even when I didn’t deserve it.”

My throat tightens, but I don’t look away.

“I loved you before I even knew you were my Cherry. And I loved you even more after.”

She blinks rapidly, her body trembling like she’s holding too much inside and doesn’t know where to put it.

“You’re in love with me?” she whispers, barely daring to say it.

I grin, because I can’t help myself. “That’s all you caught?”

She lets out a broken laugh, and I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Then another. I don’t want to stop touching her. I won’t.

“I love you,” I say again. “I love you so much it physically hurts, Maisie.”

Her eyes flutter closed. Then she leans in, our foreheads resting together, her breath shaky against my skin. “I love you too,” she whispers.

I swear, nothing in my life has ever felt better than hearing those words come from her.

I know, without a doubt, I will never stop falling for her.

Not now. Not ever.

She steps back slowly, tugging my hand toward her bed. She turns, blinking up at me with those glassy blue eyes, and then leans in again, lips meeting mine.

“I meant it,” I murmur against her lips. “Every word.”

She nods, chin trembling. Her hands slip under the hem of my hoodie. She pulls, and I don’t hesitate—I peel it off and toss it aside. She’s on me again, lips, hands, body pressed tight like she’s scared I’ll vanish if she stops touching me.

“Hey,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to catch her gaze. “We don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath stutters. “I know. I just…”

She trails off, no need to say more. Because I feel it too—the ache to close the space between us, to feel everything again—us. And damn, I want that just as badly.

I guide her backward until the backs of her knees bump the edge of her bed. She sits without breaking eye contact, breathing a little faster now.

I drop to my knees in front of her, my hands sliding up the outsides of her thighs, feeling the faintest tremble in her legs.