Page 88 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe

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With that, I bandage her hand with the kind of care that makes my chest ache. Then I look at her—one last time—and give her the only mercy I have left.

“Leave, Eslin. I’m begging you.”

She opens her mouth, searching for a word but nothing comes out. Finally, she clears her throat.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I…I think I need to go check on my cat.”

I blink. “You have a cat?”

Her lips curve into a sly smile. “The kind that curiosity kills.”

I smirk. “And licks and sucks, apparently.”

She lets out a breathy, nervous laugh.

I take a step back, forcing distance. It’s the only kind of control I’ve got left.

Eslin gathers her things quickly, eyes down, pulse thrumming. And then, she walks away.

And I let her. I have to.

“Hey Eslin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d still like to try being your friend.”

She nods as she walks out of the door. “Okay, Mr. Mills. Let’s be friends.”

When Marlow finally comes out of the bathroom, looking pale but apologetic, asking where Eslin went, I don’t miss a beat.

“She had to go feed her cat.”

Chapter twenty-seven

Net, Balls & Nipples

Declan

The ball kisses the pitch like it’s been waiting just for me.

I drop my shoulder the second it touches my boot, shielding it from the guy on my back. He’s taller, broader—too confident. I use that. Let him overcommit just a bit, then flick the ball inside my left and pivot hard.

Gone.

He lunges. Too late.

I hear their right-back barking orders, but the moment’s already mine. I don’t need to look to know I’ve got a runner peeling wide—Matteo, always dependable, dragging defenders with him like a net pulling open the ocean.

I fake the switch, let the ball roll a breath longer, then slide it into Kai’s feet instead—short, sharp, like we’re swapping secrets.He doesn’t even blink. Knows what I want before I say it. One-touch return.

Ball’s coming back.

Space’s closing.

But I see it—just a sliver between center-backs. That’s all I need.

I explode through the gap like it owes me something, dragging my cleats across the grass as if I’m carving a signature.

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