Page 109 of The Players We Hate
Servers moved through the crowd with champagne, and the auction table lined the wall with jerseys, signed sticks, and glossy brochures for weekend trips.
On the screen, photos of kids from the Children’s Hospital rotated through, each smile paired with a line about the new expansion wing. That was the part that mattered. The rest—donors, politics, appearances—was my father’s stage.
Since the story hit the media, I’d kept my distance from my parents. I couldn’t stomach their excuses or the snide comments they made when they thought I wasn’t listening. But tonight wasn’t about them. I was here because the cause mattered, and because I wanted people to know which side I stood on.
With Talon and the team.
When we walked through the doors, the noise dipped. Talon was in a black suit that fit him too well, the crispwhite shirt open just enough at the collar to draw the eye to the aqua tie knotted there. His shoulders were squared, his stride unshaken, his chin lifted like he had nothing to prove. He didn’t ask for attention, but every head turned.
I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, more for myself than for him, bracing against the weight of the whispers that followed us in.
“The governor’s daughter…”
“…with Talon Pierce.”
“That’s the hockey captain, isn’t it?”
Their words used to sting. Not anymore.
Talon leaned down, his voice brushing my ear. “You look incredible tonight. Every guy in here wishes you were on his arm. But you’re mine. Only mine.”
My pulse jumped, heat creeping up my throat. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the certainty in his voice, no hesitation, no doubt about where I belonged. For once, I wasn’t pushed aside or used for someone else’s image. I was his, and I was seen.
His hand settled at the small of my back, firm and protective. When I looked up at him, the corner of his mouth tugged into the faintest smile, and it steadied me more than anything else could.
We slid into our seats at the table with the rest of the guys. Rowdy tipped his chair back on two legs, ignoring the sharp look from the server. He only grinned wider.
Owen leaned past Kade toward him, voice low. “Careful. You keep it up, and she’ll seat you at the kids’ table.”
Kade snorted mid-sip, water catching in his throat until he coughed it back out, and the tightness in my chest finally eased.
Willow slid into the chair between Kade and me, her hand brushing against his under the table. She caught me looking and smiled.
“I finally caved. I’m splitting my time between Braysen and here. Doing a couple of classes online and working the rest around my schedule.”
“Three-hour drive,” Kade added, resting his arm along the back of her chair. “But it’s worth every mile.”
A server set down a tray of appetizers, and Rowdy groaned. “Great. Another speech about true love. Some of us are just trying to eat.”
Willow shot him a look. “Better than watching you inhale your food. It’s disgusting.”
“That’s talent,” Rowdy said, cramming a forkful into his mouth.
Owen snorted. “Talent? The only talent is the times you manage not to spill it down your shirt.”
The plates hit the table, and Rowdy was the first to grab one.
“See what I mean?” Owen smirked at me. “He’s been tracking that tray since it left the kitchen.”
Rowdy only shrugged, already chewing. “Opportunity doesn’t wait.”
Kade leaned in. “That’s called stealing.”
Rowdy grinned. “Stealing’s only a penalty if the ref sees it.”
Their back-and-forth tugged a laugh out of me, and for once, it felt easy to join in.
The noise around us carried on—Rowdy giving Willow a hard time and Owen piling on. Talon’s thumb traced over my thigh before he gave my knee a squeeze, the quiet touch grounding me and easing the tight pull in my chest.
