The hydrotherapy room was cold enough to make my teeth hurt.

Jace sat chest-deep in a steel recovery tub while ice floated around his ribs. His left shoulder stayed above the water, taped and protected. My phone counted down beside my AP Biology book.

“One minute, twenty-eight seconds,” I said.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m studying mitochondria.”

“While I die.”

“Very educational.”

He glared at me over the rim of the tub.

I highlighted another sentence.

“One minute, twelve.”

“You have no empathy.”

“I have empathy for athletes who follow the plan.”

“I followed the plan.”

“You took three extra shifts after Lauren told you to reduce your minutes.”

“We were tied.”

“And now your shoulder is in a bucket of ice.”

His mouth twisted.

“You’re impossible, Parker.”

“So I’ve heard.”

The room settled into the hum of the circulating pump.

No parents.

No teammates.

No Madison.

Just Jace turning blue and me pretending I could focus on cellular respiration.

“You ignored me all day,” he said.

I looked up.

“What?”

“In the cafeteria. Between second and third period. After chemistry.”

“You were counting?”

“I noticed.”

“I was busy.”

“You walked past me close enough to hit my shoulder.”

“I would never risk the paperwork.”

That earned a short laugh.

He leaned his head back against the steel rim.

“You’re really going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like I don’t exist outside rehab.”

I capped my highlighter.

“You were very clear at the Moon Match Ceremony.”

His smile disappeared.

“I’m respecting your public statement.”

“Are you going to hold that against me forever?”

“Until graduation seems reasonable.”

I expected another sarcastic answer.

Instead, Jace went still.

“Only until graduation?”

The question changed the room.

I stared at him.

He was not joking.

For the first time, he sounded as if he had imagined a version of his life that continued after Blackridge and still included me.

My pulse jumped.

The alarm saved me.

I snatched the phone off the counter.

“Time.”

Jace gripped the rails and pulled himself up.

Water streamed down his chest and soaked his shorts. The cold had stiffened him, and he was protecting the left side without realizing it.

“Slow down,” I warned.

“I’m fine.”

His foot hit the wet rubber mat.

It slid.

Jace pitched backward toward the edge of the steel tub.

I reacted without thinking.

I grabbed his right forearm with both hands.

It was stupid physics.

He outweighed me by at least seventy pounds.

Instead of stopping him, I got pulled down too.

My back hit the mat.

Jace twisted at the last second and braced his right arm beside my head so he did not land on me.

Cold water soaked through my shirt.

I sucked in a breath.

Then realized where we were.

Jace hovered over me.

My palm was flat against his bare chest.

His right arm held most of his weight. His left hand had landed at my waist, fingers spread against my side.

His heart hammered under my hand.

The mate bond flared.

Pine and frost flooded the small room.

My wolf answered with a low, pleased hum.

Jace’s eyes flashed gold.

Neither of us moved.

His thumb made one slow pass against my waist.

Not an accident.

“Jace,” I whispered.

The hydrotherapy door opened.

“Your mother needs to know if—”

Madison stopped.

Silence dropped between all three of us.

She looked at me on the floor.

Then at Jace above me.

Then at his hand on my waist.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I pulled my hand off his chest.

Jace got up first and offered me his good hand.

I ignored it and pushed myself to sitting.

Every instinct in me expected him to laugh.

Explain.

Tell Madison I slipped and it meant nothing.

That was what public Jace always did.

He said nothing.

He did not deny the scent choking the room.

He did not tell Madison she had misunderstood.

He stood between us dripping onto the floor, breathing hard, and let the truth exist.

Madison’s expression changed by degrees.

The polished irritation left first.

Then the certainty.

What remained was recognition.

She finally saw what the courtyard denial had hidden.

The bond was not broken.

Jace’s wolf wanted me.

And, worse for both of us, some part of Jace did too.

Madison looked at my wet clothes, then at his bare chest.

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” she said.

Her calm frightened me more than shouting would have.

Madison did not make scenes.

She collected information.

The door closed behind her.

I got to my feet and wrung water from the hem of my shirt.

Jace stared at the door.

“She’s going to tell your mother,” I said.

“Probably.”

“And then?”

Jace dragged a towel over his hair with his good hand. He did not look at me when he answered.

“Then my mother does what she always does. She decides which version of the story she can control.”

“Which version is that?”

“That you’re a temporary complication.”

The words should have hurt more than they did. Maybe because he sounded disgusted by them too.

I crossed my arms.

“Are you going to correct her?”

His gaze lifted to mine.

The hesitation was small.

I still saw it.

“If she asks me what happened in here, I won’t lie.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“That is not the same thing as telling the truth before you’re cornered.”

Jace flinched.

Good.

He needed to understand the difference.

“You sound calm,” I said.

“I’m not.”

For once, I believed him.

The bond pulsed between us, warm and exposed.

Jace took one step toward me, then stopped himself.

“Ivy, if tomorrow gets ugly—”

“Don’t.”

He frowned.

“Do not make me another promise in a locked room,” I said. “If you want me to believe something, do it where people can see you.”

His face tightened.

“Fair.”

Yesterday it had belonged to treatment rooms and accidental touches.

Now Madison had seen it with her own eyes.

By tomorrow, whatever happened between Jace and me would no longer be a private problem.