Page 111 of The Players We Hate
“You lost your board seat. Everyone knows it. You’re not untouchable anymore,” I told him. “Don’t pretend you standing here tonight is for the hospital. It’s about trying to salvage your image.”
A hush fell when my mom approached, sliding in close beside him, her voice low. “Wren, sweetheart,” she said softly. “We miss you at home.”
For a moment, I wanted to believe her. I wanted the word home to mean safety again. But I knew better.
“You don’t miss me,” I told her. “You miss the version of me that made you look good.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She went quiet, and I didn’t rush to fill the silence.
I peeled my father’s hand off my arm. The move was small, almost polite, but it felt like breaking free. I smoothed my dress, brushing off the weight of their expectations.
“I’m done with this conversation,” I said. My voice was calm, final. “You don’t get to control me anymore.”
I turned before either of them could reply. It had been years since I walked away on my own terms. No nerves. No shaking hands. Just steady steps that felt lighter.
People noticed. Heads turned, whispers followed, but they didn’t sting. For once, I was being seen for who I was and not the family I was born into.
Talon was already at my side, constant and unflinching through every word of it. When I turned away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand found mine, his fingers threading through as he fell into step with me.
His simple touch grounded me more than anything else could. His thumb brushed over my knuckle, quiet and sure, another promise I wasn’t doing this alone.
Talon leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear. “You have no idea how fucking proud of you I am right now.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Proud?”
His thumb dragged across my knuckles as he leaned in, his voice low, just for me.
“Watching you stand up to them, not backing down—that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Had me hard under this suit the whole time. Embarrassing as hell, being that way in front of your old man…but I don’t give a damn. You did that to me, and now all I can think about is getting you alone.”
My breath caught, heat rushing through me so fast I forgot we weren’t alone. “Talon,” I whispered, biting back a smile, “you can’t say that to me here.”
His grin curved against my ear. “Then I’ll save the rest for later. I’m already thinking about how I plan to rip that dress off you once we’re alone.”
I leaned just enough for him to hear me. “You better not. I love this dress.”
His smile widened. “Then I’ll buy you another one.”
By the time we sat, my face was hot, my body on edge. The others were laughing at something Rowdy said. The auction was about to start, but I barely heard it.
Under the table, Talon slid his hand up my thigh, his grip firm, possessive. Not too high, not enough to draw attention, but enough to make my breath hitch.
His fingers pressed into my skin, and without even looking at me, he leaned in. “You’re mine, Wren. Don’t forget it. I can wait, but later…I want those thighs wrapped around me.”
Every nerve in me lit up. And all I could think about was later—when the cameras were gone, when I wouldn’t have to hold back, when he’d make good on everyword.
Epilogue
Wren ~ September
The start of the hockey season had the campus buzzing. The Wolves just won their first preseason scrimmage, and the house was packed shoulder to shoulder. It was the kind of scene I used to avoid, but now I walk right into it.
It’d been a year since Talon and I met, and everything had slowed down since. No constant headlines. No walking on eggshells. Just space to breathe and figure out what we were outside the chaos.
When summer ended, Talon was the one hauling boxes out of his truck and up the stairs to the apartment Alisa and I rented. He fixed the table that wouldn’t sit level, argued over the couch, and didn’t leave until the last frame was hung. For the first time, I had a place that was mine. Not my parents’. Not the school’s. Mine.
We’d grown in the quiet moments as much as the loud ones—coffee in my kitchen before practice and late nights on my beat-up couch watching whatever we could agree on. The kind of normal I never thought I’d have with him.
And I saw the change in him too. Sharper on the ice, locked in with the team, but calmer when he wasn’t. He didn’t carry that edge everywhere anymore.
