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The stadium lights buzzed like angry hornets, casting long shadows as the crowd bled away into the night. Jace Wilder, captain of the Wolves, lowered himself onto the bleacher beside Nova, his movement deliberate. The space between them crackled with everything left unsaid. He let out a slow breath, his broad shoulders tense under his jersey, and pushed a hand through his tousled blond hair. His green eyes held hers, unwavering. 'Can I talk to you, Nova?' The question was quiet, almost lost in the vast, empty arena. When the last of her friends finally retreated, he closed the distance, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register. 'You've been baiting me. Constantly. I need you to know I've been dealing with my shit. Therapy. It's helping. But I'm not here to beg your forgiveness. I do…