Page 152 of Traded

She turns to look at my face. “No crying.”

I nod rapidly.

“This is how it is,” she says, as if she’s talking to herself. “I can’t change it, right? I have to make the most of it.”

“There has to be a way around the scent match.” But I remember the online searches through my wine-induced haze. I’d looked for a way to make her leave. To separate them, and I hadn’t found one. The NOC had been clear enough about the consequences.

“If you find one, I’d love to hear it. Look, I’m going to make you some tea. You’re going to be woozy for a while. Something to eat.” The rapid change feels like emotional whiplash as Laurenscrambles out of my blanket trap and smooths down her pants. Her eyes are bright. “It is what it is, Rosie. No point in crying over it. But I’m glad you’ll be away from here. Build a new life with Carter. A better one than whatever’s happening here that you’re not telling me.”

As she heads to the door, I scrape words together around the lump in my throat. “Lauren?”

Her cheeks are wet when she turns around.

And mine are too. “You’re not a bad sister wife.”

Maybe she’s actually a pretty good one.

Lauren gives me a horrified look. “Sister wife?”

Chapter forty-two

End of the Road, Baby

Games Played: 81/82

Blackwater Titans

55–18–8

1st Atlantic Division

Callum Morris, NPHL Network Analyst:

“Both teams might be heading to playoffs, Jeff, but nobody is about to tell the Titans and Aces this final game doesn't matter. The Titans may have secured the Atlantic Division while the Aces punched their ticket asthe Eastern Conference's second wildcard, but that pre-game press junket was tense all around. With playoffs just days away, most coaches would be preaching caution. But good luck convincing these two teams of that.”

The Furnace isn’t holding back.

Waves of chanting, singing, scarlet and navy jerseys everywhere I look. Supporters whip their scarves in the air, cheering and jeering and yelling over the sound of sticks striking the puck with petrifying force.

Titans and Aces weave around each other on the ice, both sides racking up penalties despite the scoreboard showing 0-0. Both teams might be in the playoffs, but they’re acting like tonight is the Cup final. Neither side is giving an inch.

Ryker falls foul of the ref after hooking Navarro in the first ten seconds of second period. There’s a brief scuffle before he skates for our penalty box and slams the door, throwing himself down in a fit of temper. Even Benji looks tense, skating far wider than usual as he calls out to Carter.

Tension hangs in the air, and I’m not sure it’s anything to do with me at all.

Katie boos loudly beside me as Navarro skates past our seats, shaking his head. “What iswiththem tonight?”

I wonder if things will still be the same between us after Carter creates an irreversible rift within the team.

Playoffs are coming. The Titans will have to play, to battle and fight for the Everly Cup over the next eight weeks.

But what felt like an inevitability at the start of the season now feels like an impossibility. How can we lift a cup with a broken pack splitting the team in two?

Hell, with Carter’s contract ending, we might not beherenext season. I swallow the lump in my throat. It feels unimaginable.

No matter which way I look at it, tonight feels like an ending.

Beside me, Lauren’s quiet attention lingers. She sips at a soda as we sit in silence, Katie throwing us curious glances before she can’t hold it in anymore. “Is everything okay? You both look like you’re at a funeral.”