Page 13 of Traded

Chapter four

Pesto Pasta for One

My stick slams into the puck, smashing a direct hit to the back of the net as the pixelated goalie flings himself in the opposite direction and the clock runs down to zero for the third period.

My team—resplendent in Titans charcoal and navy blue—floods the rink, hollering and yelling until I hoist the Everly Cup over my head and the crowd erupts in a frenzied celebration.

Sighing, I toss the controller back onto the coffee table and lean back against the couch, resting my neck against the cool leather. “Good game.”

It’s really not. Not when you’re playing by yourself.

Checking my phone again, my heartbeat spikes when I see Carter’s name pop up.

Sorry. Tied up here. Can’t get away. See you after the game? x

That’s… fine. It takes a few minutes to clear away the plates and pack up the food. Staring at it, I message our pack chat:Did you eat? I can bring food.

Tapping my phone against my knee, I wait for a response before parceling pasta into Tupperware and stacking them on the side, adding a few extra portions for whoever on the team wants some and a gluten-free tub for Jonas.

We ate.

Abrupt, even for Liam. Well, fine. I help myself to the biggest portion as I head to the bedroom, forking my best pesto pasta mutinously into my mouth as I go and enjoying every bite.

He hates food anywhere but the kitchen.

Our apartment is never bigger than when nobody else is here. The quiet feels suffocating.

I’m too used to yelling, to talking, to laughter and ribbing and everything else that comes with building a home centered around a team that’s always in and out, whether they’re my alphas or not.

Pursing my lips, I look at the clock. My heartbeat still thuds, and I press my hand against my chest as if I can reset it.

“Will you get a hold of yourself?” I snap to the empty room. “It’s opening night. Not aboutyou.”

This is their day. Their season, and I volunteered for this ride.

Ilovethis ride. Normally.

Music, I decide.Loudmusic. Music to shake the walls and hopefully shake off whatever funk has settled on my shoulders. A karaoke session for one, since nobody’s here to tell me to turn it down or asksince when do we own a screaming cat?

It took personalized cupcakes, a giant pepperoni pizza and three visits to a local karaoke bar for me to forgive Jonas.

Sonny is waiting at the guard booth when I drive around the back of the Furnace. Spotlights already blaze out of the darkness,Titan and Ace colors competing for space in the sky in flashes of blue and red.

Winding down my window, I ceremoniously present him with the paper bag. “Six jelly doughnuts, one flask. Decaf.”

Although six jelly doughnuts probably aren’t great for his cholesterol. I demolished two myself in the parking lot of the grocery store on my way here. Nothing saysomega anxietylike a sugar binge.

God, I hope nobody saw. There are plenty of unflattering photos of me on the internet as it is. People are highly invested in Carter as captain, in Liam and Jonas, and by extension, me.

TITANS OMEGA HIDES HER EATING IN CAR PARK: SHOULD WE BE WORRIED?

Only if they saw how much pasta I ate before I left.

Spotting a telltale sugar sprinkle on my sleeve, I discreetly wipe it away as Sonny inspects the contents with a hoot of delight. “I ever tell you you’re my favorite, Ro?”

“Never hurts to hear it again,” I tease. “You all set up?”

He nods his salt and pepper hair toward the small tablet nestled in the corner of his booth. “All ready to go. How’s Cap’s shoulder fixin’ up?”