Page 89 of Traded

A nice way of saying that I spent every night in my room alone, while Carter holed himself up with management for crisis talks and Liam and Jonas playedPass the Laurenlike it was their newfavorite secret party game. It didn’t escape my notice that every room I had was at least four doors away from theirs.

Strangely, I don’t feel much anger. Or hurt.

I don’t feel much at all, really. Little flashes, here and there. Knives that slide beneath the shield that Liam’s nailing into my skin three times a day. Even now, he’s studying me, looking for a sign that I’m due my next dose of Rosie-silencing.

I count backward in my head, turning to look at the clock. He hasn’t been to me since first thing this morning, and we’ve had a four-hour flight and a few hours either side on top.

But I don’t feel any sign of his grip on my body loosening. I’d even reacted to his request to hand over control of my kitchen—myspace—like it was nothing.

That’s possibly something I should be worried about.

Lauren is still talking, and I force myself to pay attention at Liam’s glare. “It just doesn’t seem fair. I’m happy to do dinner tonight. Maybe we could look at… I don’t know. A cooking rota?”

She turns to look over her shoulder. “Or someoneelsecould offer.”

Jonas is the only one close enough to hear the faint bite in her words. He places his hand over his chest, looking mournful. “I regret that apart from on the ice, I am very much just a pretty face.”

I wait for Lauren to smile. Or laugh. Maybe a flirtatious giggle. When she does neither, a faint flush spreads across his cheekbones. “I could probably make sandwiches?”

Ha. He burns toast.

She turns back to me, but I’m sure I catch a hint of a smirk in her upturned lips. She nudges me, and I shuffle forward. “Seriously. I have this. Go and relax.”

My gaze moves from Lauren to Liam, caught against something I don’t have full control over. He holds out his hand,breaking the weird stand off my body’s currently experiencing. “C’mere.”

“I’m heading for a shower.” Carter catches me on my way, pecking my lips before grabbing his duffel and trudging for the hall.

Jonas all but leaps up. “I’ll… help Lauren.”

Leaving me alone with Liam. I swallow as I come to a stop in front of him. “Um. Where should I—”

He tugs me down onto his lap, a flicker of irritation clear. “Will you stop acting like you’re not part of this pack? For God’s sake, Ro, just be normal.”

He keeps his voice low enough that Lauren and Jonas don’t pick it up. My stomach flips uncomfortably. “I am acting normal.”

As normal as Icanbe. He seems to realize my meaning at the same time. “Do you need me?”

Fuck, I hate the way he asks that. As if I’m the one demanding to be put in an increasingly smaller box. When I shake my head, he reaches around me for the discarded remote and settles back in the armchair, shifting me until my legs are piled across his lap. “Relax, then.”

He clicks onto the replay of a baseball game. I try to follow the figures on the screen, but my attention keeps drifting back to where Carter disappeared. “Do you think he’s overthinking this?”

“I think he’s angry at himself.” Liam swigs from his beer. “None of us played brilliantly. Coach was right to pull us up on it. My head wasn’t in that Chicago game whatsoever.”

His tone makes it clear who he blames for that. “I said I was sorry.”

When he gives me his full attention, I lean back. His hand spreads over my back, pushing my body closer to his as he inhales in frustration. “See? This is what I mean. You’repartofthis pack. Stop acting like we’re looking for an excuse to push you out. Haven’t I shown you what I’ll do to keep you here? Isn’t it better, without you and Lauren at each other’s throats?”

When he tucks my head into his shoulder, I follow without arguing. I kind of prefer it this way. His voice rumbles beneath me, and I close my eyes, trying to find comfort in it. “You really disappointed me in Chicago. It made me feel like you don’t want to be a part of this pack anymore. It fucking hurt, Ro. I thought we were in this together.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper. My eyes move to the hall again. “I love this pack.”

“Then start acting like it.” His hand moves up and down my arm, petting like I’m a cat and not an omega on the verge of a breakdown. “I’m not going to tell Cart what happened with those assholes. But I feel like you need more structure. You’re still too unsettled.”

It’s you.My mouth tries to form the words. But the bark is woven so heavily into my skin that I can’t even voice that much.I need you to stop this.

He sighs, his hand moving to the nape of my neck. “My dad called before we left Minnesota. He’s traveling up after the All-Star. I had a chat with him—not about pack stuff, but a little of what’s going on. He knows this stuff, you know? Because of my mom and… well, you know. He’s been through this, and they made it work.”

“Your family is coming here?” I pull back. “To Blackwater?”