Page 41 of Traded

Advil and a bottle of wine.“Giving Lauren a tour. She’ll be leading on content.”

Lauren lifts a hand, and Leo grunts at her. “Leo keeps the rink in top condition. If you ask really nicely, he will still never,ever, let you touch his machine.”

He eyes us both and then slides back under the Zamboni.

“Good chat.”

Another grunt before I pull the door closed.

Lauren coughs into her fist. “You stole the Zamboni, didn’t you?”

“I plead the fifth.” And it wasn’t technically me. I just hitched a ride when Leo left the rollers open one day and Jonas took full advantage. I chew the inside of my cheek. “Want to see the rink?”

She doesn’t manage to hide the flash of excitement. “Sure. If that works for you.”

“I’d rather eat a razor blade, actually.” I stare at the entrance to the tunnel. “But come on.”

Liam can’t say I’m not trying.

He can’t say a single fucking word, because I keep my face straight as I walk through the tunnel with their scent match beside me. My voice is even as I approach the gate on the side and swing it open for her to enter the stands. “You can watch them—the practice—from here.”

She chooses a seat a few rows back from the bench. I follow her, keeping a chair between us as I sit down and stare blindly out at the ice.

Every muscle is locked. I keep my eyes on the rows opposite—on the sticks, the pucks, anything but them.

Until I can’t take it anymore.

Lauren is leaning forward, her cheeks flushed pink as she watches and her pretty, perky lips slightly rounded.

Because of my newfound masochistic tendencies, I can’t stop myself.

Jonas and Ryker have their heads together, Jonas half-listening to whatever Ryker is exaggeratedly gesturing about.

His other half is entirely focused on the omega next to me.

A small, stupid smirk lifts the side of his lips. It feels like getting a glimpse into a party I’m not invited to.

Dropping my gaze, I rummage in my own bag for something to distract myself from the shitshow unfolding in front of me. My notepad is in here somewhere, buried beneath piles of crap, most of which doesn’t even belong to me but I’ve ended up carrying anyway.

Lauren can carry Jonas’s collection of body sprays around with her from now on. Fuck knows her bag’s big enough. From the look on her face, she’d be only too happy to do whatever he asks.

I glance up long enough to see him look away, and then lookback.

Like he can’t help himself. As if there’s nobody else in this whole world he’d rather be looking at. Anger surges, wrapping around my throat.

Like I’m not sittingrightfucking here.

Thecrackechoes across the ice. Everyone not currently pushing a puck looks up.

I stare at the long fracture running through the safety glass, courtesy of my unexpectedly impressive right hand and a hefty bottle of sandalwood spray.

Well, shit.

All of a sudden, many, many gazes are focused on me. Swallowing, I look away from Lauren’s wide-eyed expression and shrink back into my seat at the sight of the figure that skates up to the glass. He pushes his visor up. “What happened?”

Liam’s expression makes it very clear that this wasnotwhat he had in mind.

I look around for Carter. But he’s not here. My throat starts to burn. “I…”