Page 65 of Hard to Break

I look up, meeting his gaze. “I couldn't find my rhythm. It won't happen again.”

Rookie tries to interject, his voice filled with optimism. “Hey, it's one game. We'll bounce back.”

Clay cuts him off. “Bounce back when? We're running out of time.”

My fists clench with frustration, but he’s not wrong.

Atlas raises a hand, silencing the room. “Enough talk. Miles is our brother. We stand with him.”

The weight of their words settles on my shoulders as I head to media. But on my way, I spot a new face.

“Have we met?” I ask the cleaner who’s sweeping up in the hallway. I make a point of knowing every person I see on a regular basis, especially the staff at the arena.

“No, I started this week. I’m George. Lisa just quit.”

“Right.” I shake his hand and file that away as I head to media, a spring in my step for the first time in weeks.

Because that sounds an awful lot like a clue.

BROOKE

“We should turnthis over to the team,” Miles says for the fifth time.

“Not without more information.” I shift in the passenger seat.

After the game last night, Miles told me what he learned about the cleaner quitting.

Maybe she was involved.

“We’re not private investigators, Princess. This is above my paygrade.”

“No such thing.” I wink at him. “Besides, you’re more cut out for this than you thought. I’m impressed you got her contact information from HR.”

“I can be charming, you know.” Miles tosses me a cocky look, but there’s no hiding the nerves underneath. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are fixed on the road ahead.

“So. You going to move back in?” he asks casually.

“You want me to?”

Miles pretends to consider. “Would save me sending a stealth unit to your parents’ house and removing all your belongings without you noticing.”

My mouth falls open.

“I have a lot of belongings.”

“All of them. Each shoe. Earring. Face cream thingy.” He holds up fingers to count them off. “They’re all coming back with me until you realize that’s where you belong, too.”

His words touch me. “I guess it would be less scandalous if I packed my own bags,” I decide.

Miles grins, reaching out to take my hand in his. “Good. If there’s anything we need to do differently this time around, I’m down to talk about it. Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” Wariness rises up.

“I need you to be little spoon.”

I turn to look out the window, my smile wide enough it hurts. “Okay.”

As we pull into the parking lot, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. I run through the scenarios in my head, imagining how the conversation might unfold. Will Lisa be willing to talk? Or will this be a dead end that leaves us right back where we started?

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