Page 110 of Traded

“I am adjusting,” I say before I can stop myself. “I’m okay, Carter.”

He rakes his hands through his hair. “You keep saying it, but I don’t believe you. Tell me the truth, Ro. Tell me anything, and I’ll believe you. Justtell me.”

Fear.Instinctive, deep and so cold that my stomach feels like ice. As if the bark can sense that I’m wavering against Liam’s orders, as if it can sense my own weakness and Carter’s increasing confusion. “I’m… fine.”

For fucks’ sake. He’s righthere, an inch away from the truth, and I can’t tell him how close he is.

There are a thousand unspoken words tied up in a neat web between us, and he can’t see any of them. Carter spreads out his hands. “So… we stay until the season is done, then. But then we go. I mean it, Ro. All of this with Lauren—I’m done. This pack isn’t working for you, and that’s not acceptable to me.”

I take a single, drawn in breath. And it feels suspiciously close to freedom. “Okay.”

I can make it to the end of the season. And all of it—Liam’s punishments, the bark, Jonas’s indifference, Lauren—it’ll be done without Carter losing everything else. Easier and cleaner for everyone involved.

All I have to do is cope until then. And I’ve lasted this long.

I can do this for him.

I go to him immediately when he reaches for me. Carter’s arms band around me tightly, the words muffled. “If you change your mind, we’ll go. Immediately. You’re sure about this?”

No.But I nod in the absence of my own voice.

“Then that’s the plan.” He kisses my head. “You and me, always.”

Finish the season for the Titans.

And we can move on.

Chapter thirty-two

Carter

“Glad you could make it.” My agent pushes out a chair with his foot, eyeing my running gear. “This is a nice place, you heathen.”

Shrugging, I drop down into the offered chair and reach for the bottle of water in the middle of the table, pouring a generous amount into my glass and downing it. “They don’t care what I’m wearing.”

The maître d’ had only quietly asked me to sign a napkin. Pretty sure I could have walked in naked and all they would have done was professionally murmurRight this way, sir.Loved the slapshot last night.

If they’d seen me a few years ago, they would have called the cops to stop me from darkening their precious, fancy doorstep. It’d be amusing if it wasn’t so fucking depressing.

Miles is studying the menu intently enough that I know he’s buying time. “What’s up?”

He flaps a hand at me as the waitress approaches. I wait while he orders enough food to feed the entire Atlantic division for a month, snapping his finger at me when he’s done. “Ribeye, rare, please. And a side of asparagus, thanks.”

“So,” Miles clears his throat and links his hands together, leaning forward and looking around like he’s about to offer a briefing on national security. I glance around the French restaurant, but nobody’s paying attention to us. “I had a call from Martin a few days ago.”

Doesn’t bode well for me. “We’re having a few issues.”

Miles nods. “It happens. He’s concerned that you’re slowing down on the ice.”

“And he sent you to chew me out?” Folding my arms, I lean back and make a valiant attempt to contain my frustration. “At least I’m getting fed.”

“Bit more than that.” Miles spreads his hands. “He said you’ve skipped a few morning skates. And a few medical sessions. What’s going on, mate? You know how important they are. He’s more than a bit concerned, and so am I.”

Sucking on my teeth, I glance away. “Look. I’ve had some shit going on at home. I need to be around more. I told Coach that.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy about it.” Mile taps his hand on the table awkwardly. “I thought Liam was handling that.”

“I’m pack lead.” I refill my glass, buying myself time. “I haven’t been present enough.”