Page 110 of Trick Shot

“I haven’t done anything you haven’t begged for,” I say.

We’re face-to-face. She’s seething, but she’s still here.

“Go to hell,” she breathes.

I lean in, our lips inches apart.

“Only if you’re coming,” I whisper.

She stares up at me with this wild look in her eyes that’s equal parts fury and want.

I let my hands slide to her waist and smile when she doesn’t stop me.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I ask.

“Do you know how insufferable you are?” she fires back, breathless.

There’s that word again. Insufferable. Doesn’t necessarily mean bad, does it? Judging by the way she’s looking at me right now, it doesn’t.

“I was scared,” I admit, quieter now.

“Scared of what?” She frowns.

“That you wouldn’t want the real person behind the mask.”

“Why?” Her mouth parts slightly.

“Because I’m not exactly the guy people fall in love with, Melody.”

The breeze shifts, carrying a curl across her face. I reach out, gently tucking it behind her ear.

“It takes one Google search to see all the shit written about me online.”

“It’s just gossip, Jace,” she says quickly.

“It’s the truth,” I counter. “Every fuck-up I’ve made, printed in black and white. Suspensions. Ejections. Drunk videos. Bar fights. Women I’ve…” I pause, shaking my head. “It’s all still floating around. And I knew the second you saw it, you’d think that’s who I am.”

Her eyes stay locked on mine, searching.

“I wanted you to know me first. Really know me. Not the headlines. Not the name on a jersey. Just... me. Even faceless, you still didn’t want me outside of the little fantasy we created. Every time I asked for your name, you told me anonymity was better. That it made things easier.”

I lean in slightly, watching her face.

“The truth is, the world doesn’t see me as a real person. Not the fans. Not the women. Not the paparazzi hoping I’ll screw up again for a headline. And yeah, I get it—poor hockey player with fame and money, right?”

She doesn’t say anything. Just listens.

“But it means nothing if I don’t have someone who actually sees me. Really sees me. Someone I can share it with for more than a night.”

Her expression softens, and I know she’s still with me. Still listening.

“I was never trying to hurt you,” I say, voice thick. “I’ve always wanted to be the safe space you pour everything into. I still do.”

Her gaze holds mine, unblinking, like she’s weighing every word.

“You didn’t tell me who you were because you assumed I wouldn’t want you,” she says, her voice low. “But just like peoplemake assumptions about you… you did the exact same thing to me.”

“I never thought of it from that perspective,” I admit.