Page 110 of The Assist
“Think so?”
“Iknowso,” Mum says. “I’ve been alive a lot longer than you, love. You can’t fake the way she looks at you.”
I sit back, feeling something deep and hot and aching uncoil in my chest. Relief.
Gratitude. Love. All tangled together.
“Just be careful,” Mum says gently. “And don’t let fear stop you from being happy.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
When everyone’s trickling out, Mia catches my eye across the stadium. It’s just a glance along with a tilt of her head toward the corridor.Meet me.I wait a beat and then I tell Mum to have a seat for a second before I slip away. I find her leaning against the wall by the physio room, shadows pooling around her.
I reach her in two strides. She smiles up at me, and it’s the kind of smile that knocks all the air from my lungs. “Your mum’s incredible,” she says softly.
“She likes you.”
“I like her.” We stand there, close but not touching, hearts hammering, the whole world holding its breath around us. “I’m proud of you,” she says, her voice thick. “You played amazing tonight.”
“I was showing off,” I say, grinning.
“For me?”
“For you.”
Her breath hitches. God, I want to kiss her. Right here, where anyone could see. But I know that’s too dangerous, and I will not put her at risk, not any more than I already have. Instead, I brush my fingers along the back of her hand, it’s the smallest, most secret touch. More of a promise that we’ll find a way. Together.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
MIA
The rink slowly empties. The adrenaline bleeds into the air, leaving behind the heavy scent of sweat, discarded tape, and cheap coffee. Most of the team have already trickled out, congratulating each other, faces still bright with the buzz of winning.
I’m still here, checking ice packs, clearing away strapping tape, and making sure no one’s trying to sneak out without proper cooldown stretches. Part of me doesn’t want to leave yet so I’m stalling and dragging my feet. Because tonight is different.
Tonight Dylan’s mum is here. Tonight isn’t just about sneaking away to be with him. It’s about being invited in.
My phone buzzeson the counter.
Dylan: Come over when you’re done, Trouble. Mum’s excited to see you again. Me too.
A warm flush spreads through me.
I tap back a quick reply.
Mia: On my way soon.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I tie up the last rubbish bags and head out into the cool night air, with my heart hammering harder than it should.
By the time I pull up outside Dylan’s house, my hands are sweaty on the steering wheel. I wipe them off on my jeans and grab my overnight bag from the passenger seat. The one I packed earlier without even thinking twice. Before I can even knock, the door swings open.
Dylan stands there, hair damp from a quick shower, a soft long-sleeve tee clinging to his chest, sweatpants riding low on his hips. And that smile, the one he saves for me when no one else is around, lights up his whole face.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and warm.
“Hey,” I whisper back. He steps forward, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me, soft and slow, right there on the doorstep. No hiding or pretending. When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against mine. “Missed you.”
“You literally saw me an hour ago but I missed you too,” I say, my voice catching. From somewhere inside, I hear a gentle laugh; his mum. Dylan tugs me inside by the hand, like he can’t stand to let me go.
