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It’s pink, because of course it is, and it smells like Luc-fucking-Delacroix—sunscreen, lavender, and mischief. I scowl harder, even as I burrow inside the stupidly soft fabric. It’s the coziest thing I’ve worn in years, and that pisses me off even more.
Is this what life feels like when your body isn’t a walking disaster? Because, damn, sign me up.
Luc Delacroix. The human version of a sugar crash.
“This is the only thing tethering her to this world. The World Cup, the revenge, and her friends. And I’m not letting you take that from her, not when it might be the only thing keeping her alive.”
I’d rather share her heart than watch it stop beating.
Maybe love doesn’t have to pick sides.
“You’re my nobody, Alaina. But I want you to be my everything too.”
My nobody who sees my cracks and calls them beautiful.
He’s my nobody, and maybe that’s exactly why this feels like everything.
“Greer, remember how I told you that this is an all-in situation?” He nods slowly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I think I gave you time enough to decide if you’re all-in.” “You did.” “And? Are you?” I tilt my head. “Even if that means seeing me and Mason, our naked asses, sucking and fucking your baby girl?”
says, “Like I told her. I love her, and I want her. I’ll support her. No matter what or who she wants.”
little. “Remember how I won Leogang this season? How I was faster than every man who’s ever raced that course?” Luc barks a laugh. “Pretty unforgettable.” “Legendary,” Mason adds from beside him. “Cool.” I smirk. “Just wanted you all to know I did that on my period. Day one.”
“Out there, it’s you against me, but in here?” He taps my chest twice. “It’s us against the world, and nothing’s gonna change that. If you win, I’ll love it for you, but I won’t make it easy for you either, Pretty Boy.”
“This is my man. My man won the fucking World Cup overall, you fuckers!”
“This sport isn’t supposed to be a team sport.” I glance toward my dad again, now flanked by Otis, Dane, and Piper, with Toulouse on her shoulder, all of them smiling at me. “But the best people make it one.”
A chain that broke, snapped under pressure, the pieces woven into something new. A quiet promise and proof that broken things don’t stay broken when they choose to hold.
