Page 117 of Trick Shot

“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 nowhe’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 likehim.

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.