Page 137 of Traded

“Not his usual one. They brought in someone else, apparently.”

His face flickers.

“What? What does that mean?”

“Nothing, most of the time.” He sucks on the inside of his cheek, hollowing it. “Second opinions happen all the time, and for good reason. But sometimes… hell, I mean, I don’t know for sure, Ro. But I’ve heard of it happening with prescription meds. One doctor can’t or won’t prescribe, so management brings in someone who will.”

My eyes prickle. “Mina knows his history. Sheknewhe never wanted to take it. He made it clear when he signed on.”

But something has changed. “I think he might be struggling. He’s not acting like himself. Not completely.”

“Like forgetting your birthday,” Boone says steadily. I open my mouth, but he stops me. “No point covering for him, Ro. I have eyes.”

My voice raises in my panic and I try to moderate it, aware of Georgio humming a few feet away. “He’s coming home late, leaving early. I don’t see him sleeping any more. And he’s sweating all the time, and his pupils are like freaking dots…”

I trail off. “It could be side effects, right? It doesn’t always mean it’s more.”

“You know Carter.” Boone’s eyes have turned dark. “Better than me, better than anyone. So you tell me, Ro. Do we need to worry about this?”

It feels like my chest is collapsing inward. “I—”

“Rosie?”

When I whirl, I dump half of my coffee over myself and the rest over Boone. “Shit!”

“What’re you doing?” Jonas’s voice is mild as he looks us both over. Boone grabs a stack of napkins, handing half to me as I splutter. “Seemed to be a pretty intense conversation. You didn’t see me standing here.”

“That’s because I only pay attention to brilliance.” The cocky, self-assured expression slides over Boone’s face, masking any hint of what we were talking about. “Tried to talk Johnson into running away with me, but she’s worried you’ll piss the bed without a night nurse.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns, sauntering away in his coffee-soaked shirt.

I grapple to pull my thoughts back together. “Why aren’t you on the ice?”

He gives me a strange look. “Carter’s running drills with Ethan. I’m heading home, since we drove separately this morning. You can come too, get changed.” He judges my own stained clothes with a distinctly unimpressed look. “We can talk there.”

Shit.

Big shit.

***

“So.” Jonas folds his arms. “Want to tell me why I caught you talking to Boone fuckingMercerabout Carter’s personal life?”

I slide my jacket off and toss it over the arm of the couch while I run through my options. “Because I’m worried about him. Aren’t you?”

“Cap’s fine. Better than he’s ever been. Smashing it out on the ice.” His voice is low. “Shame his omega’s talking about him behind his back.”

I swallow the flicker of fear at his implication. “He’s smashing it because he’s on oxy. He can’t fuckingtakeoxy.”

Jonas frowns. “Why not?”

We watch each other warily. I find my voice. “He didn’t tell you?”

Jonas looks perturbed. “What, does he have an allergy? He’s fine.”

“He is notfine.” My tolerance for that fucking word finally snaps, and my voice rises. “He is falling apart, and none of you seem to care. And if you thought of anyone other than yourself for one freaking minute, Jonas,you’d see that too!”

“Cut the attitude, will you?” His face darkens. “I swear to God, you’d try the patience of a goddamned fucking saint.”