Page 95 of Playing the Field

Chapter Nineteen

Anastasia

The locker room is buzzing.

Energy crackles in the air, thick and electric, as the team moves through their pre-game routines. Some are stretching, some are taping their wrists, others are just sitting quietly—absorbing the weight of the game ahead.

It’s big.

Toronto versus Houston.

The number one team in the league against a team still fighting to prove they deserve to be in the conversation.

I should be reviewing my final medical checks, making sure my supplies are stocked, ensuring I’m fully prepared for whatever the next eighty minutes throw my way.

Instead, I find myself slipping into the hallway outside the locker room, seeking out the one person who’s been occupying too much space in my mind.

Graham.

I find him exactly where I expect—standing alone in the quiet tunnel leading out to the field, his back to me, hands in the pockets of his coat as he watches the empty stands fill with fans.

I exhale softly. “You’re supposed to be inside.”

He doesn’t turn. “So are you.”

I roll my eyes, stepping beside him and looping my arm through his and resting my head against his shoulder. My gaze follows his. “Big night.”

Graham lets out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

He’s calm, controlled—but I know better.

I know that beneath the surface, his mind is running every possible scenario, every potential outcome.

I know because I’m doing the same thing.

I shift my weight, glancing up at him. “You nervous?”

His lips twitch. “I don’t get nervous.”