The team had finally gone to bed, but the house still felt charged. Danica slipped downstairs just after 1 a.m., unable to sleep, her ribs aching with every careful step. The bruises from Kane’s hits had started shifting to sickly yellow-green, but the deeper tension came from the growing whispers among the team and the knowledge that Caleb was fighting the same war she was.
She found him in the small captain’s office upstairs, door slightly ajar, lamp casting a warm glow over scattered playbooks and his laptop. He looked up the moment she entered, eyes dark and exhausted but lighting with that familiar storm the second he saw her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, but he was already closing the door behind her and pulling her gently into his arms. “Not with the guys still talkin
