Page 21 of Wild Card 13

Not in Talon Arena.

Not at a Frosthawks operations meeting.

Not Lucy.

NotmyLucy.

My body moved before my brain caught up. I pulled out thechair across from them slowly, still trying to make sense of what the hell I was seeing.

Sarah continued talking, thankfully unaware she was sitting between the pin and the blast. “As you know, this meeting concerns repeated failure to attend mandatory operations meetings?—”

I dropped into the chair without taking my eyes off Lucy. She looked different. Sharper around the edges somehow. More contained. The softness I remembered still existed, but buried deep enough now that I could only see traces of it in the corners of her mouth and the slight tension near her eyes.

Northbend still lived on her face though. That part wrecked me unexpectedly. Because no matter how polished she looked sitting there in executive lighting with a Frosthawks credentials badge clipped near her waist—I still saw frozen lake bonfires. Snow in her hair. Ink smudged across the side of her hand.

“You work here?” I heard myself say.

Professional silence.

Sarah glanced briefly between us.

Lucy folded her hands once on the table. “Yes.”

That was all she offered. Like we hadn’t once spent almost every day together for two straight years. Like she hadn’t fallen asleep against my shoulder in the old movie theater downtown countless times. Like she hadn’t once looked at me like I was the center of her whole universe.

Something hot and disorienting climbed up the back of my neck.

I leaned back slightly in the chair, still staring at her.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Ty,” Sarah warned lightly.

“No, seriously.” I looked directly at Lucy again. “You work for the team?”

One tiny crack finally appeared.

Not in her expression.

In the pause before she answered.

So small nobody else in the room would catch it.

“I’m Acting Head of Player Operations,” she explained calmly.

Every single word sounded intentional. Distance layered carefully into every syllable. A title between us. Her attempt at armor.

Sarah slid a folder across the table toward me. “This is formaldocumentation regarding three missed mandatory operations meetings related to upcoming sponsor and community obligations?—”

I ignored the folder completely.

Lucy looked down at the paperwork again instead of me.

That somehow hurt worse. Because she was really doing this. And now we were strangers. Or pretending to be. Like none of it had happened.

My mouth moved before my brain approved it. “Shortcake?—”

Her eyes snapped up instantly. Ice cold. “Do not call me that.”