Page 35 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

Chapter eighteen

~MELODY~

There are warm rocks pressing against my thigh, a palm tree above me, and a dangerously attractive man rearranging pebbles in front of me.

“You have to start with the flat one,” Jace says. “That’s your foundation. You can’t just go raw-dogging gravity with a triangle-shaped rock.”

“I like the triangle one,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes at it.

“It’s unstable, baby,” he replies, picking it up and putting it to the side. “We’ll put it on top.”

I watch him sort through the rocks around us, looking for a flat one. I’m still trying to process that this is Ghost—and that I had him inside me less than an hour ago. Now he’s teaching me how to build a rock tower.

“Watch this,” I say, putting my tongue between my teeth as I try to balance the triangle one despite him telling me not to. It falls.

“Impressive,” he chuckles, placing a few rocks in front of me. “Try these. I’ll tell you the order.”

He places his hand on my thigh as I clear the area for a new tower. His hand is large and warm, his thumb brushing against my skin.

We fall into a comfortable silence, just the sounds of waves rolling in and seagulls fighting over something in the distance.

I glance up at him. He’s got sand on his skin, his hair wet and almost golden from days in the sun. He looks obnoxiously perfect. How does he still have abs sitting down?

And how is he this good at flipping the switch? Less than an hour ago, he chased me and took me on all fours. Then he carried me to the water, where we washed off with a lazy swim. Now he’s teaching me how to balance rocks.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” I murmur.

“This?” He reaches over and gently nudges one of my rocks into place. It balances.

“No.” I shake my head. “You.”

He looks at me, serious now. The waves crash behind us, soft and steady, and I realize the knot in my chest I’ve been feeling for days isn’t there anymore.

“I used to do this when I was little. Used the decorative rocks from the garden,” I say, trying to stack another rock. “Then my mother would come out and tell me to stop wasting time on childish things.”

“Your mom sounds like a good time,” Jace scoffs. “Dom’s told me a lot about her.”

“She tried to schedule my first kiss.”

“What?” He looks at me, disgust and shock written all over his face.

“She had a date picked out with the son of some congressman. Said it would make for good press when we got engaged later.”

“That’s…” He blinks, processing. “Impressively psychotic.”

“I try not to take after her,” I huff out a laugh.

He smiles, then turns serious again.

“So that’s why you ran here?”

I nod. “Dom said I could live with him until I figure it out and not be anyone’s political pawn. And I liked the idea of opening my own flower shop and living my own life, finally getting away from them.”

“So did Dom.” Jace nods along. “Fought tooth and nail to claw his way out of there.”

“He really did,” I agree.

Jace watches me for a second, then turns back to the rock in his hand.

“I’m glad he paved the way for you to leave.” He rolls it between his fingers. “He went crazy when he first got here.”

“Yes, I’ve read a thing or two,” I laugh.

“I was there with him, so I got to see it firsthand. Joined him most times—” He stops himself.

“The articles I read about you are worse than Dom’s. I know why Dom was doing the things he was, but… why were you? Was it the newly found fame?” I ask, genuinely curious and a little hesitant.

I don’t want visuals of him with other girls, but I want to see it from his point of view. Judging by everything I’ve read and seen about him, he has a reputation. I just want to see if there’s reasoning behind it besides ‘it was easy.’

“No.” He glances away, his voice lower. “I’m not proud of it. I just… it was safe.”

“Safe?”

“I’ve always been scared of people leaving,” he says, like it’s something he’s never admitted out loud. “So I never looked for a reason to stay. Never wanted anything real.”

“Why?”

“My mother,” he says simply. “My parents always looked madly in love. They were my example of a perfect couple until I got home from school early one day and caught my mom in bed with another man. She left us for him when I was thirteen.” Jace looks over at me again.

“Then I had some experiences of my own. And I promised I’d never let anyone make me feel that way again.

” He pauses, turning a small rock over in his hand.

I stay silent, never taking my eyes off his. He looks like he hasn’t talked about this often, and I want to give him the space for it, at his own pace.

“So I shut it down after that. All of it. I stopped believing in ‘love,’ and I started… protecting myself.”

His voice trails off. He doesn’t say what that protection looked like, but I know exactly what he’s saying without him having to spell it out. Women.

“And the thing is,” he says, resting his elbows on his bent knees, “it worked for a while. I got good at keeping things surface level and keeping people from seeing anything I didn’t want to show.” He picks up another stone. “Until I stopped recognizing myself.”

“It’s easy to let people treat you like a slab of meat,” he adds, glancing at me, his voice softer now, “until part of you starts to believe them.”

And suddenly, the rumors, the stats, the meaningless hook-ups—it all makes sense. He never wanted to be that guy; he just didn’t know how not to be.

“Jace…” I whisper, but he cuts in gently.

“I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel bad for me,” he says.

“And I’m sure as hell not proud of it. I turned one of the most sacred things two people can share into a mindless hobby.

And that’s on me. I should’ve handled my trauma better, but I was young and stupid, and by the time I realized what actually matters, it was too late to take it all back.

It was too late to take my body back from them. ”

He’s silent for a moment, looking at a spot between his knees. I look at him, finally understanding what happened. He turned his emotions off and used his body as a shield. And now he’s standing in the aftermath—not asking to be forgiven, just understood.

“I think…” I start, my voice quiet, “coping doesn’t always look like healing. Sometimes it looks like destruction. Sometimes it is destruction.”

Jace looks at me and turns his body, angling it toward me to show me he’s fully listening.

“I’ve been around people who never change,” I continue. “People who call their damage ‘personality’ and make everyone else pay for it. You’re not one of them,” I add quickly. “Because when you saw what you were doing, you started… adjusting. And that… that matters.”

“I wish I could take it back,” he whispers. “I don’t want them to have it.”

For the first time since I met him, he looks vulnerable. It feels like he pried open his ribcage and let me look inside.

“You can’t undo it,” I say. “But actions only have the meaning you put into them.” I lean in slowly, fingers reaching for his hand. He takes it, his grip tight on mine.

“I never thought of it that way,” he admits, a small smile appearing on his face.

That’s the moment I finally feel it—that flicker of recognition in my chest I’ve been looking for since last night. It comes with the same warmth that used to light up my phone screen at night.

I’m not just knowing anymore. I’m seeing.

I look at him, and all of it is right there. Everything I fell for—the softness, the patience, the humor, the flirting, every layer.

Hello, Ghost.

“You really are him,” I whisper, more to myself than anything.

Jace blinks, then chuckles. “Yeah, I thought we established that last night.”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. Because this time, it doesn’t feel like a mask or a joke.

It feels like him.

All of him.

Not my brother’s best friend and teammate. Not Ghost, the safe space.

Just Jace—the man in front of me.

It’s the last day.

The music is already thumping through the walls, echoing up from the backyard with everyone shouting and laughing.

I’m halfway through packing my suitcase when the door creaks open. My skin prickles before I even turn. I know who it is.

Dom always knocks. I turn slowly to see Jace leaning against the doorframe.

His shirt is unbuttoned, exposing his abs and the ink on his chest. His shorts hang low, showing off his V-line, and his hair is perfectly messy, like he just rolled out of bed, but the look in his eyes tells me here’s something on his mind.

His gaze drags over me and his mouth curls into that smile, the one that makes my stomach drop and my thighs ache.

“Need some help?” he asks, voice low.

“I’m good,” I lie, my voice thin, my body already giving me away.

He steps forward, each step pushing the air out of my lungs.

By the time he reaches me, I’m backed into the dresser

His hands find my waist, firm and familiar.

“You’ve been giving me looks all morning,” he murmurs.

“So have you,” I whisper.

He laughs softly, pulling me closer to him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he whispers, mouth against my ear.

“About what?”

“That I’m not going to have you under my roof anymore.”

His fingers trail down, and I can feel the weight in his words—his sadness—because it mirrors my own. But I don’t want to sit in it. Not now.

Instead, I rise on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his.

“Don’t think then. Just lie back.”

His eyes narrow instantly.

“What?” he rasps.

“You heard me.” My voice is breathless, chasing anything that will pull me away from the same thoughts I know are running through his head.

“Melody.” My name is a warning, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

I drag my palm down the front of his chest, slow and playful.

“Whatever I want,” I murmur, tossing his own words at him.

He stares at me, chest riding and falling under my palm. And then he gives me a wolfish grin, filthy, and infuriatingly hot.

“Is that so?” he says, stepping back. “Let’s see it then.”

He lets me guide him to the bed.