Page 100 of Lose You Twice

The equipment room is busy. Prep for a home game is different from travel prep. Less hauling, more precision. Jerseys hung in the right stalls, towels stacked, backup sticks checked, tape and wax bins filled, water bottles lined up. Everything has a place, and if it doesn’t, Donnelly makes sure we find one.

I like that more than I should.

At home, if something disappears, it’s usually because a child moved it, spilled on it, or adopted it for a school project. Here, if a roll of tape goes missing, it becomes a solvable mystery with suspects and consequences.

The locker room door opens, and the first wave of players comes in.

Noise follows them. Laughing, shoes scraping, someone arguing about music, and I can already tell it’s Weston singing half a line of a song before I hear Asher tell him to stop for his own sanity.

My hands keep moving through the lace drawer, but my whole body pays attention in a way I hate.

Kai hasn’t walked in yet.

Which is fine. Not like I’m waiting for him or anything.

Weston appears in the doorway with a smoothie in one hand and his hair damp enough to suggest he recently showered. “Equipment goddess.”

I blink up at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Equipment wizard?”

“No.”

“Laundry Duchess?”

“These are somehow getting worse as you go.”

He leans against the doorframe like he belongs everywhere, which might be his greatest talent. “You’re hard to title.”

“Thankfully, I come fully named. I’m an equipment assistant.”

“Too formal. No flair. You need something with more oomph to it.”

I roll my eyes. “Have you considered bothering someone else?”

“Many times, but you’re very fun to pester.”

He grins wider, and despite myself, I smile. Weston is ridiculous, but it’s an easy kind of ridiculous. He doesn’t ask anything heavy from me. He makes too much noise, takes up too much space, and somehow still notices when a joke has helped. I can see why Kai lets him stay close, even when Kai looks like he wants to tape his mouth shut eighty percent of the time.

“What?” Weston asks, eyes narrowing. “You looked fond for a second. It was unsettling.”

“I was thinking you’re slightly less annoying than you could be.”

The locker room door opens again, and I know who walked through the door without looking.

Kai’s here.

It is unfair, honestly, how specific my reaction to him has become. The quick pinch beneath my ribs. The awareness moving down my spine. The way my hands suddenly feel clumsy and less detail-oriented.

Kai is in a dark suit, hair still damp at the ends. He looks sharper on game days. Sexier too. He’s always looked good, but seeing him in a crisp suit takes that to a whole new level.

Then his eyes find mine.

His gaze pauses on my face, then drops for half a second to my hands before coming back up. It’s not obvious. Not enough for anyone else to make a thing of it, except Weston is unfortunately standing three feet away and has the instincts of a raccoon near an unsecured trash can.

Kai steps closer. “Hey.”

“Hey.”