Page 96 of Hard to Take

“You guys text each other back right away, huh?” he grumbles.

“Yeah.”

“Cute.” But he shakes his head.

“Hey.” I kick a toe against his shoe. “Are we good?”

“Are you happy?”

“Mhmm.”

He cocks his head. “I just don’t want this to go bad. For you, for the team, for anyone.”

“You worry too much.”

Chloe comes barreling down the hall, iPad clutched in one hand and phone in the other. “Get outside. Now.”

Jay and I exchange a startled look.

“What’s happening?” I demand.

She doesn’t answer and is halfway to the end of the hall. We follow, our footsteps echoing.

“Chlo,” Jay calls.

He catches up to her first, me a moment later. I’ve never seen her move this fast. Never seen anyone move this fast outside a race or a basketball game, if I’m honest.

We burst out the front doors, Chloe leading the way. She pulls up fast enough I run into her back.

The pavilion in front of the stadium holds a scene that takes me a full minute to process.

First I see Miles.

My heart lifts, as it always does when I see him. He’s got his bag over one shoulder, a puffer coat unzipped and his hair wavy around his face.

But something’s wrong.

His hands are balled into fists and he’s talking with someone. Shouting at someone.

The other man is in a wool coat, his cheeks pink and pale hair wispy. His face is pulled into an aristocratic sneer.

Not just anyone.

Kevin.

“What is he doing here?” Jay says what we’re all thinking.

Nothing good.

The way they’re arguing is dangerous.

I can’t overhear the words, but a crowd is gathering.

“Miles!” I call.

He turns toward me, his expression torn. Then whatever Kevin says has him turning back.

Phones are lifted, taking photos and video, as if they know they’re going to see what they came for.

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