Page 9 of Traded

“Shut the hell up,” I mutter, and he only laughs again.Asshole.

It’s going to be a really long season.

Chapter three

Locker Room Fumes

They get a five-second warning before I enter.

Carter heads in first, and the sound of bodies scrambling makes me grin, my tension seeping away.

Nowthisis familiar.

I crack the door to the locker room open and call out. “No point hiding those tiny peens. I’ve eaten bigger chipolatas.”

“Aw, hell, Rosie,” Ryker bellows. “If Jonas is a chipolata, I’ve got—”

“Finish that sentence and you’re scratched.” Carter’s not in a mood to play, and his tone even makes me shrivel.

Ryker clears his throat. “...Nothin’ but respect, Cap. Swear to god.”

All of them are dressed for practice when I duck inside. Well, almost.

Ryker sweeps me up first, a grin on our rookie’s face as he squeezes me tightly and sets me back on solid ground. “Here she is, everyone. Maintain an orderly line, please.”

A flood of murmurs echo approval.

“So superstitious,” I say fondly.And also, so cute. “How’s it feel not to be a rookie anymore? You’re a sophomore now. Fancy.”

“But he still can’t pick his pants up, so as far as we’re concerned, he’s still a rookie.” Benji ruffles my hair as he passes. “Kiddo.”

“Hey, Gramps. How’s life at the home?”

He levels me with a mock glare as he sits, stretching out his legs and leaning forward. “There ain’t nothing wrong with my mobility, kid.”

Anybody with eyes could confirm that, given how he warms up on the rink. Nothing unites the crowd more than watching Benji’s hip flexes. There are whole online channels dedicated to the close-ups.

It’s abeautifulsight. “How are the living arrangements going?”

“Ask him.” Benji eyes a reddening Ryker. “Asshole keeps eating all my groceries. It’s like I’ve got a mouse infestation. Or a toddler. Leaves crumbs everywhere and doesn’t touch the vegetables.”

Ryker clears his throat. “I’m working on that.”

I bite my lip to hide my laugh. The veteran-rookie roommate arrangement between Benji and Ryker is the source ofmuchentertainment at our pack dinners. “Great.”

“Alright!” Carter steps up onto a bench and waves his arms. “Everyone step up. Before Rosie does her thing for you freaky assholes, we’ve had some bad news.”

Every head swivels to me.

“Who are we kneecapping?” Ethan Cross, our second center, says. Ryker folds his arms beside him, and I bite down on my cheek.

“Nobody.” Arms wrap around my waist, and I lean back into Liam’s chest as he nods toward Carter. “Eyes on Cap, assholes.”

His whisper tickles my ear. “Whoarewe kneecapping?”

Nobody, I hope. “Listen.”

This isn’t the moment for me to moan about my own shitty news.