Page 38 of The Fake Divination Offense
I pull into the player lot at the stadium and sit in my car for a beat, staring at the river in the distance.
I was arguably at my most mentally healthy in Vegas. On paper. Everything was organized just so—until the trial blew up the carefully sculpted box I kept my Chimeras teammates in. And it made me realize I’d never actually gotten toknowany of those teammates, because when the smoke cleared as all the details of the case came out, they didn’t feel fuck-all loyalty to me.
Why do I think doing the same thing here is thehealthieroption?
Because I’m terrified of being a codependent, out-of-control, self-sacrificing mess again. I alreadyhavebeen—that incident with Treva was just the most jarring. But every PR update reminds me that the Urzoth church isthrilledby thepositive pressI’m bringing them, when I shouldn’t be bringing them any pressat all. The Hellhounds are thrilled, too—we’ve won two of our first three games, on top of the Oroxo/Beauty and the Beast discussions overshadowing the remaining negativity around the lawsuit.
Like Vegas, everything looks greaton paper.
I pull up today’s schedule and recheck theinteractionAlexo and I are scheduled for. It’s a home game; we’re supposed to meet at the player exit afterward and be seen walking out together.
Innocent enough.
That’s it though—it’s not nearlyenough.
I toss my phone into my bag and shove out of my car, all this wanting doing its best to rip me right in two.
We barely eke out a win against the Detroit Dragons, 17–15. They chose a pretty basic field, jagged rocky peaks and hidden caverns, but even with that simplicity, they were an intense opposition. Itwas my fourth game playing with the Hellhounds, and I’m starting to trust the team dynamics; they’ve got my back and I’ve got theirs. No ill will. Perfectly cordial. If we can keep this up, we’ve got a real chance of hitting the championship; well-oiled machine and all.
That’s the most I wanted out of this trade. The most I hoped for.
Not anything more thancordial.
Alexo was stunning tonight. The way he dances is sensational, hypnotic; I don’t know how the whole stadium doesn’t drop everything to ogle at the screens every time he’s on. He comes alive in this vivacious flow, and I wanted nothing more than to charge off the field and repeat our kiss, no tongue, from weeks ago.
But I didn’t. We’re meeting at the player exit. And then I’m going out with Seb. And it’s all still perfectlycontained.
After I’m showered and dressed, I head out, palms sweating, bag over my shoulder. The hall outside the locker room is packed with security, reporters, assistants, and family members, and the first person I see is Seb.
Thio’s next to him, and they’re bothdecked outin Hellhounds gear—orange shirts and baggy orange pants with the demon dog logo, and Seb’s wearing a gods-damned demon dog foamhatwith the dog’s mouth opening around his face, while Thio’s got a temporary tattoo of the HellhoundsHon one cheek and the twenty-sided rawball shape on the other.
Seb throws his arms out wide and screeches over the hallway’s din, “My baby!”
“You’re the worst,” I grumble through a smile as he yanks me down for a hug.
He pulls away before I’m done and I cling to him against my better judgment. The tension has him melting back against me and he retightens his grip on my shoulders.
“Hey,” he prods, knocking his head against mine. “What’s up? For real?”
I blow a breath into his shoulder and—hold here. I know Ishould pull away, because this is the exact behavior I don’t want to let myself need.
After one more breath, I lift back and flick the foam dog on his head. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk. I’ll be around more. But—” I look at Thio, behind us, hands in his pockets, and when my eyes meet his, he shifts a little closer. “You’re engaged now, and I don’t want to impose.”
Thio cracks a smile. “I knew you were a package deal when I proposed. Don’t worry about it.”
Seb flattens an offended hand to his chest. “I think you mean whenIproposed, since mine was first, but—he’s right.” Seb swats that hand at me. “You’re never too much, O. Tell that voice in your head to shut up. Iwantyou around. You being gone these past four years was miserable for me. I kind of need you, you big oaf.”
And that doesn’t scare the shit out of you?
I adjust my bag. “All right. I—”
“Mr. Monroe!” Treva rushes up, already gesturing for me to head toward the door. She doesn’t so much as flinch when she’s near me, which has me relaxing fractionally. I’ve seen her at other events since I cornered her after the first game, and she doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. Still feel like I should apologize again, though. Maybe the full week of catering from five of Philly’s best restaurants for the PR team helped? Not that they knew it was me.
“Mr. Warden is waiting at the exit,” Treva says. “We’re ready for some shots of you leaving together.”
My eyes widen as the logistics ofleaving togetheroverwhelm every sensible thought.
I thought we werewalking outtogether.
