Page 112 of The Clinch
“Lukas.” Her voice is level and polished. It’s not a long look. It’s just too long. Even from across the patio, I recognize when two people are trying not to show that something in the room has already shifted.
“Sloane,” he answers, just as controlled.
Finn steps in and starts talking over everyone. Lukas shifts with the flow, but not before one last quick look back.
“People like the Carver story.” Sloane turns back to Jessica, voice light, as if nothing happened. “Champion. Fiancée. Park Slope parents. It reads stable.”
Not a relationship. A read.
She takes a sip of her drink. “Which helps, because the Defenders side is already noisy enough.”
I glance over. “Noisy how?”
“League noise,” Jessica says before Sloane can answer. Her tone stays casual, but her eyes sharpen. “Ownership chatter. Nothing official.”
Sloane shrugs. “Official is never the interesting part. The interesting part is everybody acting as if the floor might move.”
Matthias looks up from the scale for one beat. “It usually does.”
Across the patio, Leo laughs at something Nate says. Low, brief, real. I can almost see it—the two of them as kids, all elbows and energy, Leo already built like a wall, Nate already fearless enough to crash into it.
Watching them together gets to me more than I want it to, so I look away before anyone can clock it. But Leo catches me watching and comes up behind me. His fingers settle on my shoulder, warm and certain.
“What?” he murmurs. Not a demand. A check-in.
“Nothing,” I lie. Then, quieter, because the truth wants out. “You’re just…”
He doesn’t push. He never does.
“A lot.” I try to make it sound like a joke.
Leo’s breath brushes my hair. “I can step back.”
Choice, not pressure. A door left open instead of closed around me.
I shake my head once. “Don’t. I like it.”
He stays. Steady. I resent how much I trust it.
Jessica watches us without looking as if she’s watching. She’s too good at that. Her attention doesn’t linger on my ring. It lingers on how Leo moves around me now. How automatic it is.
The performance is gone.
A little later, when the plates have been cleared and Finn has started arguing with Adam about whether karaoke counts as cardio, Jessica appears at my side.
“Liz,” she says softly. Her smile is polite. Her tone is not. “Friday next week. Two fifteen. Both of you. Fifteen minutes.”
The patio noise goes sharp around me.
“Okay,” I manage, as if it’s nothing.
She doesn’t wait for me to hedge. She steps away and slides back into the flow.
The can sweats in my palm. The patio noise keeps rolling. Leo appears at my side. His hand slips into mine, easy and familiar.
“What did she say?” he asks softly.
“We need to check in with her next week.”
