Page 41 of The Catch

Logan frowns. "It's Evie."

Without much else but a nod, he steps out onto the terrace.

"It's my agent." Saint makes an apologetic gesture with a hand. "I have to take this."

He jogs to his room, and I finish dinner with Dom, Damián, and Bear keeping me company. Logan comes back first, just as we finish setting up the dinner table. His brows are wrinkled and heavy. It quiets us down.

He must be able to feel the effect his frown has on us, because it doesn't disappear, but it softens.

"Mmh," he utters. "We should wait for Saint. It's about the TV show."

"Does everyone know about the show?" I ask.

Damián nods. "We've been bugging Saint about it."

I return to the kitchen and get busy chopping cherry tomatoes. "Bugging him? Why?"

"Evie's been trying to get him on a baking show for a while," Dom says. "He's resisted it for as long."

But he said yes this time, and something tells me it was because of me.

Two, three, four cherry tomatoes go into a bowl with lettuce and cucumbers. I count them the way I count my heartbeats. In five insistent thumps, my hearttells me to be careful, that I shouldn't take all of this as evidence that he truly cares about me. Because that crush looming in the distance is closer than I thought— it's just around the corner— and my feelings and his care could blend into dreams I can't afford. Lead my heart down the wrong path, and make it do things it's not meant to do. Not when the object of my affections objects to long-term affection.

Saint comes out of his room. Something about the slant of his mouth betrays it wasn't an easy call. A switch flips and I forget about my confused emotions. All I want is to ask him what worries him, but I say nothing yet.

He notices our attention is on him and his expression changes. It takes a friendlier form. Even the ghost of his dimples show.

"It's going to be fine," he says, though no one has asked anything yet. "There is news, but also… My agent heard the GM has been calling a couple of people. Testing the waters for a trade."

A chorus of complaints fill the room. Saint comes to the kitchen and grabs the salad bowl, as if nothing is amiss and he's ready to take it to the table. I don't say anything, but put a hand on his arm. He stills, and lets out a small breath.

Our eyes cross for a second. I see the worry he doesn't share. I squeeze his forearm and hope it tells him I care.

The show news can wait. This matters so much more.

"All I can do is win." His lips press into a thin line. "Get the MVP trophy if I can. That way they won't need a sacrificial lamb. They might feel justified to keep the best in the league."

"Good thing we're on your side. We'll win with you." Bear lifts his glass, punctuating his words with a toast.

"You're not going to get traded," Dom says. "That's the bet I'm going to win this season. It will be the biggest bet in Hypersquare history, too. It's going to get me the crown."

"You can get the crown if I get to stay." Saint shakes his head. "But you can't put that on the board."

"I don't need to," Dom replies. "I have witnesses. I'll figure something out."

Logan adds a simple-but-severe nod. "A sealed envelope with our signatures will do."

"In that case, I appreciate the trust," Saint says. "I don't mind if you take the crown for the off season, if it means I stay."

"You'll stay," Logan insists. "And you'll be the MVP and get a ring out of it, too."

Saint sighs. His eyes land on me. He gazes across the group, the line of his shoulders relaxing somewhat.

"Thank you," he simply says.

With a small smile now softening his lips, he takes the salad to the table. He gets everyone to sit, including me, and he brings the big dish full of pasta and chicken bathed in basil, nuts, and spices. Soon, our plates are full and compliments in deep voices fill the room.

"This is incredible." Logan's tone isn't very expressive, but the words hold his admiration anyway. "I'm glad I stayed."