Page 92 of Traded

Jonas approaches after finishing up his own interview at the station beside Mac. “Hey. All good here?”

Nodding, I take a sip from my coffee. “Fine. You?”

“Really good so far.” His face highlights his delight. “I think the Cheetahs are gonna ask for a deal extension. Takes us into next season.”

“That’s great. I’m pleased for you.”

He beams and pecks my cheek. “Feels like everything’s really coming together, doesn’t it? I’m hoping MVP Games will offer too. They seemed really interested. I think the talking points helped, so thank you.”

“No problem,” I say softly.

He fidgets in place. “You, uh. You know where Lauren is? I wanted to ask her a question.”

Not a flicker of discontent gets through. “Try the Messier suite. I think she was setting up with Dick.”

Or maybe I’ve stopped caring.

“Thanks.” He heads off without looking back, a skip in his step. Glancing over, I see Callum Morris laughing at a gesturing Mac and decide it’s safe to step outside for a bit of air.

Crossing the corridor, I lean over the balcony and interlock my fingers, watching the mass of people below. So many of them. So many faces I know, but I feel so far away from them right now that I might as well be standing outside the doors.

A few minutes later, a sleek tan suit leans over beside me. “Pretty full on, huh?”

“You’re done with Eileen already?” I keep my eyes on the crowd. “Mac told me you’re not media trained. Tell me you didn’t cause a regional incident.”

Ness will killme. Austin Navarro laughs softly. “Don’t think so. Although there’s a phone number in my pocket I need to quietly dispose of.”

Frowning, I turn to him. “Eileen Nathers issixty-three. She’s the beloved grandmother of regional morning television.”

And a cougar, apparently. It goes to show. You never truly know people.

“Yeah.” He tugs at his tie, loosening it. “But her granddaughter’s single. Very nice. Med student. Likes dogs, opera and true crime. Good teeth, apparently.”

Still unprofessional. I find myself deeply unimpressed with little old innocent-looking Eileen.Andher perky, med student granddaughter. “Is she a person or a horse?”

He gives a full, belly-deep chuckle, and several people below look up to stare. I’m not surprised. Even his laugh sounds like it came from the freaking heavens. Surprisingly irritated by the notion, I look over my shoulder. “Want me to bounce her out of here? I don’t care if she bakes good cookies. She shouldn’t have done it.”

He looks amused. “Comes with the job. I don’t pay much attention. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“That’s why I’m here.” I check my watch. The others will be done in a minute. “You’ll be glad to know you get lunch after this.”

“With you?” At my raised eyebrows, he backtracks. “I mean, do you get a break? You’ve been working all morning. Haven’t stopped.”

“Oh. Yeah.” At around ten tonight, when I fully intend to take a basket of Eileen’s deluxe pistachio cookies Imighthave hidden behind a pillar into my nest and not appear until morning. “Somebody’s been paying attention.”

“I do that.” Austin’s voice drops an octave, growing apologetic. “Watching people is a bit of a hobby for me. Weird one, I know.”

“I don’t know.” I lean forward, both of us watching the crowd now. “I enjoy a bit of people watching. Every single one of themhave their own lives, their own issues that we have no part in. Fascinating.”

“Sonder.” When I look at him in question, he’s smiling slightly. “The realization that everyone around us has a life as detailed and as difficult as our own. We may be the hero in our own story, but we’re insignificant in someone else’s. A by-line, or a walk on. Or we never exist at all.”

“Sonder,” I test it, liking the sound. “It’s a beautiful word.”

“It is.” He plays with his hands, flexing his fingers. “Rosie… I wanted to ask you about Chicago.”

A sense of peace I didn’t notice vanishes as easily as a cloud, and I find myself… bereft. Drawing myself up, my response is distinctly cold. “What about it?”

Dark brown eyes—molasses and treacle and autumn—study me intently, and the icy sensation in my chest only grows. “I saw you. Not sure if you remember. But you were…”