Page 107 of The Players We Hate
I didn’t wait for the next barrage. I opened the truck door and helped her inside, then went around to the driver’s seat. The flashes were still popping, the cameras still following, but none of it mattered.
The only thing that did was sitting beside me in my truck. She was coming home with me.
Her head leaned against the window as we pulled away from campus, city lights shrinking in the rearview. A small smile tugged at her lips, like it had finally found a home. I hoped it never left.
“You good?” I asked, my voice low in the quiet of the cab.
She met my eyes, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
I reached across the console, lacing my fingers through hers. “You didn’t even flinch back there.”
A soft laugh slipped out of her. “I wanted to. But then you kissed me. I figured if I was going to get dragged through the fire, it might as well be with someone worth it.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My chest was too tight, adrenaline still running hot. All I could do was hold her hand and not let go.
When I turned onto our street, the house came into view. I pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. By the time I reached for her bag, she was already at the door, chin up, duffel slung over her shoulder.
“I’ve got it,” she said before I could offer.
“Didn’t say you didn’t,” I muttered, a hint of a grin tugging at me.
Her smirk followed me inside. The front door shut with a dull thud, closing out the outside world. My hand stayed wrapped around hers, right where it belonged.
Judging from the voices in the kitchen, we weren’t alone.
We stepped into the dining room and found Rowdy sprawled on a barstool with a beer in hand. His bare feet were kicked up on the stool beside him, eyes on the TV in the corner. The screen flashed with footage of me and Wren mid-kiss, reporters swarming in the background.
Rowdy grinned without looking away. “Well, look who it is—Rixton U’s new power couple. Should we start calling you Mr. and Mrs. Rixton? Maybe grab autographs before the price goes up?”
Wren froze for a beat, biting her lip like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or disappear.
“I figured it’d be everywhere,” I muttered, pulling two waters from the fridge. “Didn’t think it’d blow up this fast.”
“Oh, it nuked something,” Owen called as he strolled in, phone in hand and a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I just watched a TikTok of you two kissing set to Taylor Swift’s ‘End Game.’ Congrats, you’ve officially made it to BookTok.”
Wren laughed under her breath, color rising in her cheeks.
Rowdy leaned back on his stool. “So was that the hard launch, or do I need to post the footage myself with a ship name?”
“Call it the hard launch,” I said, shooting him a look. “You got a problem with that?”
He lifted his hands. “Not a problem. I’m just glad we can stop walking on eggshells every time her name came up and you got all broody about it.”
Owen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his voice losing the edge of teasing. “Seriously. We’re glad you’re here. You both went through hell and came out standing. That says something.”
Wren blinked, touched even through the teasing. “Thank you.”
Rowdy hopped off his stool and slung an arm over her shoulders. “You’re one of us now. Which means three things: the fridge is fair game, prank wars are off-limits unless you start them, and if Talon ever screws up, we’re all on your side.”
“Not gonna happen,” I said, my voice low.
Rowdy’s grin stretched wider. “Look at him. All protective. Our boy’s growing up.”
Her smile lingered, softer this time, as her eyes drifted around the kitchen. They landed on the team photo pinned beside the fridge—one where everyone was laughing, like the outside world didn’t exist. She studied it, not sure she fit in yet, but wanting to.
I stepped closer, my voice low while Rowdy and Owen argued in the background. “You okay?”
She nodded, quiet. “It’s just… the noise outside never stops. But here, with you and the guys, it’s easier to forget it’s there.”
