Dawn crept in gray and unforgiving, but 114 Oak Street was already stirring with the low hum of pre-scrimmage tension.
I hadn’t slept. Not after the team meeting. Not after the way Caleb had looked at me in the hallway—his jaw tight, his voice dropping low when he said my actual name. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ghost of his touch on my neck and heard the raw, restrained way he’d told me to stay out of his way.
I needed a shower. Cold. Long. Something to wash away the static and steady my nerves before the Wolves crossed the river.
The shared bathroom on the second floor was mercifully empty. I clicked the lock into place, peeled off my clothes, and stepped under the spray before it even fully warmed. The water beat against my shoulders like tiny accusations. Riley Voss had
