Page 105 of Playing the Field

Chapter Twenty

Graham

Isend the text before I can overthink it.

Come to my place when you’re done.

A beat of hesitation.

Then—

Please.

I lean back against my car, parked outside the arena, waiting. The press conference is over, the game is done, and I should be exhausted. I am. But exhaustion feels easier when you don’t have to sit in it alone.

A minute passes. Then another.

My phone buzzes.

Okay.

The tightness in my chest eases—just a fraction.

Because she’s coming.

Because after everything—she still chooses me.

When I open the door, she’s standing there, jacket pulled tight around her, hair damp from the misty rain that’s been falling all night. For a second, we just look at each other. No words. No grand gestures. Just a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of everything this last month has been. Then, finally, I step back.

“Come in,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.

She does.

And just like that, she’s here.

The space between us disappears.

I don’t cook. Tonight, I don’t even pretend to try.

We sit on my couch with takeout containers of Chinese food, chopsticks abandoned in favor of eating straight from the cartons. Neither of us talks much at first. And I’m okay with that. Because this is what I wanted. Not a conversation about the game. Not a post-mortem of what went wrong. Just her. Here. With me.

She pokes at her lo mein, finally breaking the silence. “Have you slept yet?”

I smirk. “Not yet.”

She huffs. “Shocking.”

I gesture at her carton. “You gonna eat that, or just rearrange it?”

She shoots me a look but takes a bite. I watch her, leaning back, letting the weight of the night settle over me.

Then—

“So,” I say casually, “did you read the contract?”

Anastasia pauses mid-bite, then sets her food down.

“I’m still looking it over,” she admits. “But…” She meets my gaze, something softer behind her eyes. “I’m ready to commit to the team.”