Page 7 of Forever Relentless

“Do they know, at Wrighton, who you really are?”

If I told him, I risked my job. If I didn’t, the fuckers would probably dig anyway. It was a lose-lose for me.

“No.” I risked a look over my shoulder, and saw what looked like a quick glimpse of understanding. “You try and blackmail me, you’ll be sorry.”

When he laughed, I knew I must look as harmless as the threat I had just made.

“I have zero interest in blackmailing you.” His gaze moved down me once. Unhurried. “I have zero interest in you at all.”

I didn’t believe him, but I caught myself from saying it out loud.

“Your friends are waiting.” I sounded dry and croaky, and I hurriedly cleared my throat.

“We won’t tell them who you really are,” he assured me, ignoring my not-so-subtle hint to please leave me alone.

“Why?”

He didn’t blink as he held my gaze. “Figure you’re there for maybe the same reason we were here today. To get to the truth.”

“I know the truth,” I bit out with more bite than intended.

“Yeah, I reckon you do.” He stepped back, his presence no longer looming over me. “It’s a bitch trying to get to the bottom of it all alone though, isn’t it?”

He walked past me, his arm brushing mine, and I stepped back from the contact, the hairs on my arms standing up like I’d been electrocuted.

“You were a transfer,” I blurted as he reached the door. He looked at me over his shoulder. “If you get the chance, go back.” I shook my head. “Go anywhere. There are other teams.”

He was quiet for so long, I didn’t think he’d speak, and then he gave a slight nod. “Yeah, there are.”

I watched him walk away with long, confident strides, and my eyes fell on his ass once. I told myself I was checking that he had actually left, not that I was checking him out. I didn’t even believe myself. When I looked up, I met the quarterback’s stare.

Dante smirked, dipped his head, and he and Noah walked away. His friend had waited for him, and I was too caught up to notice.

I edged to the side of the garage and watched them get into a car, and after a few minutes, they drove away.

“Well, that was a shitshow.”

I almost jumped in the air and whirled around to face my friend, Diana.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I demanded.

Diana smiled and pointed to the small closet behind Mason’s weight bench.

I stared at her. “You were hiding in the closet?” I demanded incredulously. “Seriously?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because seeing the PT of the Lions football team is exactly what the three players on the Lions football team needed to see today.”

I let out a sigh. “True, but still. The closet?” I looked outside to make sure they were gone. “Why the hell are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Shouldn’t you?” she taunted back.

“Yeah.” I rubbed my hands over my jeans. “I didn’t think anyone would notice I was gone,” I admitted. “Social media management is more . . . fluid than you think.”

“Yeah, well, they noticed.” Diana followed me into the house, dropping her ass onto my mom’s couch.

I shook my head. Here we were, two women who’d spent the last however many months embedding ourselves in the program that had destroyed our families — and today, the program had come to us.

Diana sniffed. “Mason didn’t handle it well.”