Page 38 of The Players We Hate (Rixton U #2)

Wren ~ Three Months Later

Tonight was our first event together since the season ended, and walking into the ballroom threw me straight back into the world of galas I thought I’d left behind.

Servers moved through the crowd with champagne, and the auction table lined the wall with jerseys, signed sticks, and glossy brochures for weekend trips.

On the screen, photos of kids from the Children’s Hospital rotated through, each smile paired with a line about the new expansion wing. That was the part that mattered. The rest—donors, politics, appearances—was my father’s stage.

Since the story hit the media, I’d kept my distance from my parents.

I couldn’t stomach their excuses or the snide comments they made when they thought I wasn’t listening.

But tonight wasn’t about them. I was here because the cause mattered, and because I wanted people to know which side I stood on.

With Talon and the team.

When we walked through the doors, the noise dipped.

Talon was in a black suit that fit him too well, the crisp white shirt open just enough at the collar to draw the eye to the aqua tie knotted there.

His shoulders were squared, his stride unshaken, his chin lifted like he had nothing to prove.

He didn’t ask for attention, but every head turned.

I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, more for myself than for him, bracing against the weight of the whispers that followed us in.

“The governor’s daughter…”

“…with Talon Pierce.”

“That’s the hockey captain, isn’t it?”

Their words used to sting. Not anymore.

Talon leaned down, his voice brushing my ear. “You look incredible tonight. Every guy in here wishes you were on his arm. But you’re mine. Only mine.”

My pulse jumped, heat creeping up my throat. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the certainty in his voice, no hesitation, no doubt about where I belonged. For once, I wasn’t pushed aside or used for someone else’s image. I was his, and I was seen.

His hand settled at the small of my back, firm and protective. When I looked up at him, the corner of his mouth tugged into the faintest smile, and it steadied me more than anything else could.

We slid into our seats at the table with the rest of the guys. Rowdy tipped his chair back on two legs, ignoring the sharp look from the server. He only grinned wider.

Owen leaned past Kade toward him, voice low. “Careful. You keep it up, and she’ll seat you at the kids’ table.”

Kade snorted mid-sip, water catching in his throat until he coughed it back out, and the tightness in my chest finally eased .

Willow slid into the chair between Kade and me, her hand brushing against his under the table. She caught me looking and smiled.

“I finally caved. I’m splitting my time between Braysen and here. Doing a couple of classes online and working the rest around my schedule.”

“Three-hour drive,” Kade added, resting his arm along the back of her chair. “But it’s worth every mile.”

A server set down a tray of appetizers, and Rowdy groaned. “Great. Another speech about true love. Some of us are just trying to eat.”

Willow shot him a look. “Better than watching you inhale your food. It’s disgusting.”

“That’s talent,” Rowdy said, cramming a forkful into his mouth.

Owen snorted. “Talent? The only talent is the times you manage not to spill it down your shirt.”

The plates hit the table, and Rowdy was the first to grab one.

“See what I mean?” Owen smirked at me. “He’s been tracking that tray since it left the kitchen.”

Rowdy only shrugged, already chewing. “Opportunity doesn’t wait.”

Kade leaned in. “That’s called stealing.”

Rowdy grinned. “Stealing’s only a penalty if the ref sees it.”

Their back-and-forth tugged a laugh out of me, and for once, it felt easy to join in.

The noise around us carried on—Rowdy giving Willow a hard time and Owen piling on. Talon’s thumb traced over my thigh before he gave my knee a squeeze, the quiet touch grounding me and easing the tight pull in my chest .

Rowdy nudged my elbow, pointing at the last mini slider. “You want it before I take it? Last chance.”

I shook my head, laughing when he grabbed it. For the first time in weeks, I felt myself start to breathe again.

The table stayed loud for another minute before the energy shifted. Talon leaned in, his voice low but firm enough to cut through. “We need to talk about Gavin.”

Rowdy set his fork down. Owen sat up straighter. Even Kade’s grin slipped.

Talon kept his tone even. “Reed’s been keeping tabs.

The official story is he’s taking medical leave after the injury and maybe transferring.

However, Reed discovered that he never went home.

He’s been staying with a family friend, lying low and trying to dodge the press.

Nobody’s sure if he’ll pop back up at another school or disappear for good. ”

The weight of it hung there. Not a clean answer, but enough to know Gavin was gone—for now, at least.

Then the lights dimmed, pulling the attention of the room to the stage. My father walked onto the stage, applause breaking out before he even spoke. His voice carried easily, smooth and practiced.

“Tonight is about looking ahead,” he said. “It’s about the next generation and the importance of expanding the Children’s Hospital here in our community. These kids need us, and it’s our responsibility—and our honor—to step up.”

The room answered with polite applause, cameras flashing, heads nodding on cue. His delivery never changed. It was the same speech I’d grown up hearing—words that sounded good until you remembered who was saying them.

I pressed my hands together in my lap, forcing myself to stay still.

For years, I shrank when he spoke in front of a crowd, convinced there wasn’t space for me.

Sitting here now, it was clearer than ever.

He wasn’t up there for the kids or their families who needed that hospital wing.

He was up there to repair his reputation.

My gaze slid across the room until I found my mom at a table near the front.

Her hands were folded in her lap, her posture stiff.

When she caught me looking, she gave me a slight smile, but it faded fast. The space between us felt heavier than the crowd around us.

I didn’t know if I wanted to go to her or stay where I was.

“We’ll move into the auction shortly after dessert,” he said, closing things out.

The applause came when my father stepped back from the microphone, but it didn’t have the same weight it once did. I caught it. So did he. His jaw flexed before the practiced smile returned, but the room was already moving on.

Servers started setting plates down in front of us, but I barely glanced at mine. I pushed my chair back, planning to slip away to the bathroom before the auction started. I had just started across the room when a hand clamped around my arm.

“Wren,” my father said smoothly, his smile still fixed for the cameras. “Stay a moment.”

I froze, glancing toward the other side of the room where Talon stood with a kid who had run up to him earlier, excited to meet him.

The boy held a stick almost as tall as he was, his suit jacket sliding off his shoulders.

Talon signed the blade and ruffled his hair.

The kid grinned ear to ear while his mom pressed a hand to her chest, eyes shining.

Cameras flashed, reporters leaned in, donors drifted closer .

Talon didn’t have to put on a show. People believed him because he was real, which was exactly what my father hated most. His grip on my arm tightened, holding me in place while the room’s attention slid away from him.

Frustration boiled up in me—at my dad, who still wouldn’t let go even when it was clear his grip was slipping.

His voice stayed smooth, still for show. “A photo, maybe? You look radiant tonight.”

I hated how his tone almost sounded convincing. It had been weeks since we’d spoken without a fight, and part of me wanted to think he meant it. That maybe he was trying.

Photographers lifted their cameras, waiting for the picture. I stayed still. His smile slipped, and once he tugged me out of frame, the warmth was gone.

“You’ve lost your way,” he muttered, his grip tightening on my arm.

“Pierce has a reputation—you know it. He’s disrespectful and selfish.

He’s been waiting for a chance to get back at us after what happened with Wells and his sister, and you’re handing it to him.

Do you even understand how this looks? You’re dragging our family through the mud, making a spectacle of yourself for him. ”

The words stung, not because I believed them, but because I’d been hearing versions of them my whole life.

Before I could answer, Talon stepped in. “Something wrong?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

My father sneered. “You know exactly what’s wrong. You’ve dragged her into this. Whatever anger you’re carrying for Wells, you’re taking it out on her. You’re using her to get back at me and our family, and she’s too blinded to see it. ”

The urge to shrink back tugged at me, to smooth things over before it got worse. But not this time. I stepped forward, away from Talon and closer to him.

“This isn’t Talon’s doing,” I said calmly. “This is me. My choice. You don’t get to twist it into something else.”

His lip curled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You,” I snapped. “You covered for Wells. You let him ruin Tatum’s life because protecting your image was more important than doing what’s right. You think if you smile hard enough, shake the right hands, and write the big checks, it’ll all disappear. But it didn’t. And it won’t.”

His mask cracked, just for a second. Fear, then anger.

“You lost your board seat. Everyone knows it. You’re not untouchable anymore,” I told him. “Don’t pretend you standing here tonight is for the hospital. It’s about trying to salvage your image.”

A hush fell when my mom approached, sliding in close beside him, her voice low. “Wren, sweetheart,” she said softly. “We miss you at home.”

For a moment, I wanted to believe her. I wanted the word home to mean safety again. But I knew better.

“You don’t miss me,” I told her. “You miss the version of me that made you look good.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She went quiet, and I didn’t rush to fill the silence.

I peeled my father’s hand off my arm. The move was small, almost polite, but it felt like breaking free. I smoothed my dress, brushing off the weight of their expectations.

“I’m done with this conversation,” I said. My voice was calm, final. “You don’t get to control me anymore. ”

I turned before either of them could reply. It had been years since I walked away on my own terms. No nerves. No shaking hands. Just steady steps that felt lighter.

People noticed. Heads turned, whispers followed, but they didn’t sting. For once, I was being seen for who I was and not the family I was born into.

Talon was already at my side, constant and unflinching through every word of it. When I turned away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand found mine, his fingers threading through as he fell into step with me.

His simple touch grounded me more than anything else could. His thumb brushed over my knuckle, quiet and sure, another promise I wasn’t doing this alone.

Talon leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear. “You have no idea how fucking proud of you I am right now.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Proud?”

His thumb dragged across my knuckles as he leaned in, his voice low, just for me.

“Watching you stand up to them, not backing down—that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Had me hard under this suit the whole time. Embarrassing as hell, being that way in front of your old man…but I don’t give a damn. You did that to me, and now all I can think about is getting you alone.”

My breath caught, heat rushing through me so fast I forgot we weren’t alone. “Talon,” I whispered, biting back a smile, “you can’t say that to me here.”

His grin curved against my ear. “Then I’ll save the rest for later. I’m already thinking about how I plan to rip that dress off you once we’re alone.”

I leaned just enough for him to hear me. “You better not. I love this dress. ”

His smile widened. “Then I’ll buy you another one.”

By the time we sat, my face was hot, my body on edge. The others were laughing at something Rowdy said. The auction was about to start, but I barely heard it.

Under the table, Talon slid his hand up my thigh, his grip firm, possessive. Not too high, not enough to draw attention, but enough to make my breath hitch.

His fingers pressed into my skin, and without even looking at me, he leaned in. “You’re mine, Wren. Don’t forget it. I can wait, but later…I want those thighs wrapped around me.”

Every nerve in me lit up. And all I could think about was later—when the cameras were gone, when I wouldn’t have to hold back, when he’d make good on every word.