Page 123 of Traded

I wave my hand. “Oh, yeah. You know how they are.”

Maddie hugs my arm. “I’m so happy to escape the nappy-thon. This was an excellent reason. Although cocktails would have worked too.”

We find our seats and settle in. Katie and Maddie launch into a discussion on Benji’s new online fan club, and I stare at the ice and try not to cry.

They forgot. All of them.

My pack forgot my birthday.

By the time the jumbotron clears of the crowd shots, my pity party is in full flow. I’m not even going to pay attention to the skate out.

They don’t deserve my fucking attention. I’m not exactly in the mood to cheer for my alphas when they barely remember I exist. I tug the bag of teddies from under my seat, careful not to dislodge my gift bag.

Carter’sneverforgotten my birthday. Not once. Not even when we were kids and didn’t have two cents to rub together for a present.

But… he’s not exactly acting like himself right now.

I find myself leaning forward when Mike announces the Titans arrival, watching him skate through the blue smoke over the sound of pulsing base. He lines up beside the others, not even looking up at the crowd. There’s no heart-tap. No silent signal.

Nothing at all.

There’s no individual skate-on tonight. Both teams skate in as a group, and I flop back in my seat as Mike announces the Aces to a series of boos from our side and raucous support from their own.

The music starts, and I roll my neck.

“Ro!” Maddie jabs my side. “Listen! It’s your favorite!”

My ankle boot taps on the ground. Ilovethis song. I used to play it on repeat, back when—

I slowly straighten as the first scarlet figure appears through the smoke, his jersey emblazoned with an unmistakable13.

Unlucky number 13.

There’s somebody else on the ice who knows when my birthday is. Somebody with a devil’s smirk and an attitude to match. Somebody who wouldn’t give a shit about pissing off my pack if he thought it’d wind them up.

Somebody who recorded this song off the radio and gave me the tape so I could listen to it whenever I wanted.

“No,” I breathe. “Hewouldn’t.”

“What?” Katie looks between my face and the ice. More of the Aces are skating out now. “Wait, are they doing a run? Why didn’twedo a run?”

Who the fuck am I kidding? He absolutelywould.

“Rosie,” Maddie says slowly. She’s watching my face. “Is this… for you?”

I mentally pray to the god of ice hockey.Please, Mr. Hockey. Let my ego be big enough and wrong enough that I’m absolutely off the puck in thinking Boone Mercer picked this song for my birthday. Please.

“They’re not.” I bury my face in my hands. “Please tell me they’re not.”

“Then I’d be a liar.” Maddie grabs my arm and shakes it. “This isdefinitelyaimed at you. Holy shit, they’re coming over!”

Please god, no.

My head snaps up just in time to catch Boone’s smirk as the Aces skate past our section. When he taps on the glass and points at me, my face erupts into the burning flames of the seventh circle of hell.

Every head in the Furnace swivels in my direction.

Fuck.