She’s asleep.

Sprawled out across the white sheets like it’s still her bed to take up, limbs tangled, mouth slightly open, the way it always was after we—

Christ.

I rub the back of my neck and stare at the ceiling. The hum of the air conditioner is the only sound, but my head’s louder than it’s been in months.

I shouldn’t have let this happen.

She’d shown up to the match. Said she was in town. Said she didn’t mean to text me. Right.

And me? I played the idiot. Again. Said we could talk. That maybe—just maybe—we weren’t as broken as we thought.

Liar.

Because now she’s here. In my shirt. In my bed. And I’m stuck somewhere between wanting to relive every second and wanting to bolt for the door like it’s on fire.

She shifted slightly, muttered my name in her sleep. That little sound? It knocked the air right out of me.

Because it sounded like before. Before the interviews. Before I missed her birthday three times in a row. Before I chose football over us, like it was even a question.

I thought I could fix it with a night.

Like muscle memory, my hands remembered everything. Her shoulders. The curve of her hips. The exact spot on her jaw that made her tilt her head just so. But memory isn’t enough. Not when I know we’re different people now—older, angrier, more tired. And I’m scared that maybe I don’t deserve her now that she’s better without me.

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my boots by the door.

This was supposed to be closure. Or maybe it was supposed to be the start of something again—I don’t even know anymore. What I do know is this: she’s still the only person who makes me forget the world, and the only one who could ruin mine with a look.

And yet.

My phone buzzes with a text from our agent. “Media’s sniffing something. Keep it clean.”

Too late.

Because now I want her again. Not for a night. Not in secret. But that? That means risking everything. Including the pain. Including hearing her say no.

She stirs again. I turn my head.

Her lashes flicker. She’s waking up.

And all I can think is— What the hell do I say now?