Page 15 of Traded

His teeth gleam in a flash of laughter before he takes off to finish his lap.

“Was that Boone Mercer?” Katie’s mouth hangs open. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” I mutter. “He’s an asshole.”

“A hot asshole, though.” She shrugs at my horrified expression. “What? I’m mated, not dead. Girl’s got a pack to build. Oh, there’s yours.”

I bolt upright, craning my neck. My frame doesn’t soften as Carter, Liam and Jonas skate out in a smooth line, splitting off. Liam and Jonas join the team at the end of the ice while Carter skates into the center.

I wait for his gaze to sweep across my seat. Carter yanks his visor up when our eyes meet.

And finally,finally, the stone that’s been weighing me down…dissolves. Not completely, but I feel like I can take a full breath for the first time all day. I melt back into my seat.

You good?He mouths.

When I nod, he taps his hand on his heart three times. He waits for me to do the same before he slams the visor down and joins the team. Jonas and Liam lean toward him, twisting until they’re facing me and lifting their hands in a wave.

The release of heaviness feels blissful. I settle back in my seat and run my hands over my face as the players finish their warmups and exit the rink.

Now I can relax.

Or not.

There’s the little matter of opening freaking night, and I start to feel nauseous all over again.

When the house lights cut out, the entire arena drops into stunned darkness. Katie grabs my hand. Her yell echoes over the stand. “This is it, Titans! Playoffs are coming, baby!”

Laughter and cheers follow, but I can’t speak.

Here we go.

Blue strobes slash across the ice in sharp, violent bursts before scarlet answers from the opposite side, both colors colliding over the rink. Music slams through the speakers hard enough to shake the seats beneath us, bass pounding through my ribs.

The jumbotron flickers to life in a montage of footage.

Hits. Goals. Fights and save reels.

I silently bless Ness’s team for cutting together last season’s highlights in brutal, glorious flashes until one image dominates the screen—Carter, jaw set and shoulders broad beneath the captain’s C, lifting his stick toward the crowd.

The roar of approval nearly blows the roof off. Beside me, Katie is screaming. Half the arena is on its feet, our shoes stamping in a drumroll.

Adrenaline surges. Nothing else matters right now.

Nothing but this feeling, and these players, and the hope of something bigger than any one of us.

God, Ilovethis.

“Friends, family, enemies and rivals…”

Mike Donnelly, our PA announcer, echoes over the crowd, low and theatrical. “The Furnace warmly welcomes you to opening night!”

The crowd detonates.

“Tonight, our infamous Blackwater rivalry enters a new era.”

Boos and cheers mix instantly.

“Our season begins with both home teams facing off—it’s the Blackwater Titans versus the Blackwater Aces!”