Page 39 of Traded

“No,” she says abruptly. “Are you always this direct?”

Wow. Awkwardly, I shrug. “Pretty much. You’ll get used to it. Since, you know, I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence stretches out.

“Okay then.” Lauren tucks her hair behind her ear and reaches for the notepad again. “You… um. You didn’t mention Carter.”

Take his name out of your fucking mouth.

I focus on breathing. And counting, Lauren looking more concerned by the minute. For my sanity or her safety. “We can finish this later if that’s easier. Or we can talk about work.”

I would love to talk about work. Every word feels physically painful. “I know you’re going to… touch them.”

The room seems to drop another fifteen degrees.

I keep my eyes above her head. “I’ll try to be considerate about it if you will.”

Lauren doesn’t speak. At the rustling, I blink, feeling liquid drip onto my cheek. She’s burrowing around in a navy leather handbag that looks remarkably like my own. It practically swallows her whole.

I mentally cheer it on. Hopefully it’ll drag her to some alternative swamp dimension where she can steal someone else’s pack.

Taking the tissue she eventually offers me, I turn it over in my hands and wait for her answer.

“I can do that,” she says finally.

Giving up on any semblance of manners, I blow my nose with a honk.

Fuck it. She’s moving in with us. If she can’t cope with a little snot, she’ll expire entirely at the bathroom after three carb-loading hockey players have finished with it. A pang pierces my stomach. “I’m warning you. I’m going to hate every single second of this.”

I might lose it in public, and then this whole scheme comes crashing down. I shove back my chair.

No time like the present to test my already debatable self-restraint.

Lauren looks startled. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t sit here and parcel up every single piece of my life like some fucked-up twisty Christmas.” I head for the door, coffee in hand before I throw it at her. “We can pick this back up later.”

When I feel less like I’m carving out my own heart and giving her the pieces of that too. “You want a tour or not?”

***

I’m halfway down the hall before I notice she’s not following.

Retracing my footsteps, I stop beside her. The line of photographs stretches the length of the hall, but I follow her gaze to one and grit my teeth. “That was draft day.”

“I watched it.” She shifts on her feet. “Looked like a good day.”

“It was.” Carter is laughing in the photo, his arms wrapped around Liam and Jonas. Even Liam is grinning widely, Jonas in the middle of talking to someone off camera. “Jonas hates this photo.”

“It’s a great photo.” Lauren examines it while I examine her. “Are they happy here?”

We were happy before you came along. “I guess so.”

“I meant with the team.” There’s an apology there, but I’m in no mood to hear it. She jogs after me, the two of us heading down the steps and keeping far enough apart that anybodywatching wouldn’t even think we were talking. “The socials make the Titans seem like a family, but it’s not always true.”

“It’s true.” I head off down the hall before she reaches the bottom of the stairs, trying not to limp in my ridiculous shoes. “Everyone here is pretty close. Lots of changes since the buy-out last year, but Meridian didn’t want to mess with the culture too much.”

Until now, apparently. But she’s nodding, easily catching up to me. “I get that. I’ve been over the external channels a few times. There’s not much I’d want to change. Fill some gaps, target some content for wider stakeholders, that kind of thing.”