Chapter 131: Why Did He Catch Me?

The signing went on for another hour, but the sheer, stifling density of the crowded hall finally began to take its toll.

The constant flashing of cameras, the overlapping waves of foreign pheromones, and the rigid posture I had forced myself to maintain left me feeling completely drained.

​"Alright, ten-minute breather for the first line," Marcus called out, tapping the back of my chair.

​I let out a slow breath and stood up, but the second my sneakers hit the concrete, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. My vision swam for a fraction of a second.

This was one activity I was absolutely not used to. The sudden drop in blood pressure made my hand go weak, and the plastic water bottle I was holding slipped right from my fingers.

​Before it could even hit the floor, a massive hand shot out. Reid caught it out of midair with effortless, athletic reflexes.

​"Careful there, Cap. Don’t want you spilling it," he said easily.

​I blinked away the dizziness, leaning slightly against the edge of the table. "Thanks..."

​The word died in my throat. Right in front of my face—and in full view of the front row of the queue—Reid brought the bottle to his own mouth. He tilted his head back and drank from it, his lips pressing directly against the exact rim my mouth had just been on.

​My eyes widened in pure horror. I looked past his broad shoulder and saw three fans in the front line collectively gasp, their hands flying to their mouths in a frenzy of excitement. Did you just see that? one whispered furiously to her friend.

​"Reid!" I barked harshly, keeping my voice as low as humanly possible. "There are people watching!"

​Reid flinched slightly, pulling the bottle away. A look of sudden, mild realization crossed his face, and he rubbed the back of his palm over his mouth. "Ah. Sorry, Cap. Habit. Here, you can have it back."

​"Stop acting crazy and throw it away," I hissed, my chest tight with a massive spike of adrenaline.

This was the absolute worst. If the civilian photos from yesterday were fuel, this indirect kiss right in front of the crowd was a tactical nuclear strike on our privacy. The rumors were going to spread like wildfire.

​Desperate to get backstage and away from the staring eyes, I turned sharply on my heel. But in my spite and blind panic, I wasn’t watching where I was going.

​An empty aluminum soda can was sitting right in my path.

​My foot was already coming down. In a frantic, split-second attempt to avoid stepping on it, I shifted my entire weight mid-stride, trying to force my leg past the obstacle. I miscalculated the angle completely. My ankle twisted inward. I felt the dangerous, sharp pull of the tendon, and my brain instantly went into survival mode.

​Don’t put weight on it.

​I would rather take a hard fall onto the concrete floor than force my weight down and end up with a severe sprain. We had a brutal game against the Avalanche and Edwards’ team in exactly two days. I couldn’t be sidelined. I couldn’t abandon the team. I was the Captain.

​I braced myself for the hard impact of the floor, letting my body go limp as I fell.

​But the impact never came.

​A pair of massive arms caught me mid-fall, snatching me out of the air before I could even touch the ground. Reid’s chest was like a solid wall against my shoulder as he hauled me up against him, his boots scraping sharply against the floor.

​"Whoa there, Cap. What’s gotten into you?" Reid breathed, his voice thick with a sudden, protective sharpness.

​My eyes gradually widened as I looked up at him. The entire hall seemed to fade into a dull, distant roar. Why did he catch me? Why like this?

​"Don’t you know this will only fuel the rumors?" I asked in a furious, hissing whisper, my fingers digging helplessly into the fabric of his team polo. "You shouldn’t have caught me."

​"What? So I was supposed to let you fall just because I want to avoid getting on the tabloids?" Reid asked, his grey eyes darkening with a fierce, stubborn anger as he stared down at me. "No way in hell, Kain. Nothing is going to make me stand by the side and watch you fall."

​The words hit me like a physical blow. My heart skipped a violent, chaotic beat against my ribs, and an intense, burning flush instantly took over my face.

I couldn’t hide it. No matter how much I tried to maintain my rigid, Captain’s composure, the heat in my cheeks was entirely too loud. I couldn’t get out of his embrace with a face that red—not with a hundred cameras waiting to capture it.

​Completely defeated, I hid my face straight into his chest, gripping the fabric of his polo tightly to pull myself closer, using his massive frame to block the crowd’s view. There were already rumors anyway. At this point, there was no use trying to avoid them.

​"Everything okay over there?" Gerald called out from down the table, his brow furrowing as he and Marcus started to move toward us, the rest of the nearby staff looking worried.

​Reid didn’t let go. Instead, his other hand came around, his fingers gripping my waist even more firmly, anchoring me against his side. He raised his free hand toward the team, his voice projecting easily over the noise.

​"It’s fine!" Reid barked out, his tone shifting into a defensive, protective growl. "Cap was just trying to avoid a strain in the ankle. No biggie."

​He paused, his eyes scanning the floor before he let out a sharp, irritated breath. "More than that, who’s the rat’s ass that left their empty can on the floor? Are you trying to get the Captain injured before a game?"

​He began to rant, his voice echoing authoritatively as he targeted the backstage staff, but I completely tuned him out.

I remained buried against his chest, the sharp, heavy waves of frozen pine enveloping me entirely as I listened to the frantic, heavy thudding of his heart—and the equally chaotic beat of my own.