Page 29 of Hard Pass

My head’s already been off for weeks. My throws. My timing. My mechanics. Everything just feels off. And now this? Now I’ve got reporters circling, teammates probably wondering, coaches watching, and fans ready to turn.

This just makes everything louder and harder. And somehow out of all of it, my brain keeps circling back to her.

How can it not when she’s the center of this shitstorm?

The investigation. The leak. The fact that my name’s suddenly everywhere for all the wrong reasons.

My feet falter as another thought hits.

Was it someone in the Rebels organization? Was it . . . who the fuck knows? But if it wasn’t her, someone definitely saw her walk in, saw her talking to me, figured out who she was, and put two and two together.

And now I’m trending.

Or maybe it was her.

Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to play angles. Push. Apply pressure. Wait for the crack.

Except she didn’t push. She didn’t prod. She didn’t even look at me like she knew what she was doing, and that is what doesn’t sit right with me.

Fuck me. I don’t know. Anything is plausible at this point.

Ding-dong.

I stop mid-step, staring at the front door.

Ding-dong.

This is why I live in a gated, private community, so I don’t have to deal with rogue reporters knocking on my door.

Ding-dong. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Valor, you fuck, it’s us. Open up,” a voice shouts through the slab of wood.

Relief is palpable at the sound of one of my best friend’s voices. I guess now that the world knows, they can know too. Maybe commiserating with them is what I need right now.

And honestly? Even if it’s not, I’ll take the distraction from my own chaotic head. I walk the short distance, yank open the door, and there they are.

Jaxon, Malachi, and Tristan.

Three idiots I’ve known for what feels like forever.

“What took you so long?” Jaxon asks, pushing past me. “And why do you look like shit?”

“You show up unannounced and you bring compliments,” I joke.

Malachi cuffs me on my shoulder. “Rough night? Good night?” He makes a show of looking around like he’s expecting someone else to be in here. “Are we interrupting something—or someone and should fuck off?”

“Nah, I wish,” I mutter.

“That bad?” Tristan asks.

“Yeah. That bad,” I say.

“Good thing we brought beer.” Tristan drops a case onto the kitchen counter.

“That’s true friendship, right there,” Jaxon calls over his shoulder as he looks in the fridge.

I take the bottle Tristan hands me and down half of it in one go. I need this—the distraction, the normal. The people who know me best and know I’d never do this shit.