Page 93 of False Comeback

The nail marks Crossbody had left all over my back—long lines still discolouring my pale skin. My gut swooped, skin prickling as memories of last night flashed in my head again. Which they’d been doing all morning. Ever since I’d left the diner.

“Who was it?” Dan asked with a chuckle, releasing me. I quickly reached for my top and pulled it on, wanting to cover the marks. They felt almost… private. Something between just me and Crossbody.

“Just…” I waved a hand. “Some guy.”

“The guy from the arena?” he asked with a smirk.

“Uh, yeah.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

“You’ve seen him a few times now, huh?” Dan raised a brow at me. “Is the monogamy bug catching?”

I squawked out a slightly too loud laugh. “No. He’s just… a good fuck.”

“Must be.” Thankfully, Dan didn’t push the subject any further. “You coming out? Holt’ll be by soon with the line-up.”

“Yep.”

I’d hidden in my dressing room since arriving at work. Which wasn’t like me. It wasn’t like I was scared to see Crossbody. I was just feeling wildly unsettled.

Mainly because of that kiss he’d given me before we parted ways.

That had been a goodbye kiss. An ending. Because we’d agreed on one more time, and we’d managed to come to a tenuous truce, so that was that. Time to move on. In our own fucked-up, completely inappropriate way, we had managed to repair the damaged relationship between us. So that was… something.

I was sure Corey was still going to take all the credit, though.

I followed Dan out of my dressing room and into the main backstage area in silence, my pulse jumping when I saw Crossbody standing at the sink and filling his sports bottle with water.

He was wearing shorts and a tight, moisture-wicking T-shirt. My gaze travelled down his long legs, stomach dropping with something almost like despondence. I’d never gotten the chance to kiss every inch of those legs in the end.

His golden hair was tied up in a high ponytail that brushed against his nape, and a shiver ran up my spine as I remembered nuzzling him there while my cock moved inside him.

He turned and froze when he saw me staring at him from across the room. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, which made his gaze snap down to my mouth and his eyes flare. He jumped a little when Heidi suddenly approached, reaching for the sink.

Clearing his throat, he shifted out of the way. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” she said cheerfully, rinsing out her beaker.

Our eyes met again, and after a second he offered me a tiny smile that made my throat close up, for some fucking ridiculous reason. It was just a smile. It shouldn’t have affected me.

I managed a small one back, my face a little warm. This was fucking weird. Not bad, but still weird.

I sat down on the couch beside Dan, who was laughing about something with Gabe. To my surprise, Crossbody perched carefully on the other end of the huge sectional and fell into conversation with Carl, who’d been tiredly sucking on a blood bag through a straw.

Gradually, more people sat down as we waited for Holt to arrive with the line-up. It was still a little odd having new people in the room. John-o’-the-Wisp already seemed right at home, completely at ease as he leaned back on the couch with a protein shake and talked to Val. The Beast—who had still yet to say a word in front of any of us—was silently lifting weights in the gym area, his ever-present mask on and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head.

The Ghastly Boys stayed in their dressing room a lot. They were extremely quiet and rarely spoke, and when they did, their voices were faint and whispery. La Dame Blanche was friendly and warm with everyone. Kind of charming. She and Crossbody seemed to get on fairly well. Wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I glanced at him again. He was still talking casually with Carl, but I noticed that none of the others made any effort to draw him into their conversations. Even when Biff leaned forward to say something to Carl, interrupting them, he didn’t try to include Crossbody.

It was kind of pissing me off.

Was this why he just tended to stay on the treadmill while he was in here? Because no one really talked to him?

I tried to remind myself that it was probably his arrogant attitude that caused the other wrestlers to keep him at arm’s length, and one morning of sitting with the rest of us instead of isolating himself wasn’t enough to change that, but it was still making me weirdly angry. And making my chest get tight.

Then La Dame Blanche perched on the very edge of the couch, right beside Crossbody, and said something to him in French with a warm smile. That just kind of made me angrier.

No, it wasn’t anger—it was something else. Something uglier.