Page 58 of Trade It All

Luka spins, almost taking Grady out at the knees, and I have to step back quickly to avoid the collision, my camera never dropping as I adjust, catching the moment Grady shoves him back with a grin.

“You’re embarrassing us,” Jasper calls from the boards, shaking his head like he wants no part of whatever is happening.

Jake just laughs, leaning into the glass. “Nah, keep going. This is content.”

“That’s not content,” Jasper shoots back. “That’s evidence.”

Grady points at me. “She loves it.”

I don’t even look up from the camera. “Keep talking and I won’t blur your face.”

Luka barks out a laugh, pointing at Grady like he just lost something important. “Damn. She’s turning on you.” Jake taps the glass once, smirking. “You’ve been replaced.”

Grady flips him off without missing a beat, but he’s already playing it up more, bigger movements, louder reactions, making sure I catch all of it.

And I do.

Because this is my job.

Because this is what I’m good at.

I move along the boards, shifting angles, catching the right light as it hits the ice, framing shots in my head before I even check the playback. I already know what clips I’ll use. Theslow-motion fall when Luka inevitably eats it. The cut to Jasper shaking his head. The close-up of Jake laughing like he’s not part of the problem.

It’s second nature.

It always has been.

But now—there’s something else layered into it.

Because even while I’m working—I’m aware of him.

I feel it when his attention shifts in my direction. I don’t have to look to know when he’s watching me the same way I’ve started watching him. It’s subtle, hidden in the way he turns his head just slightly, the way his focus lingers a second too long before he forces it back to the ice.

We don’t acknowledge it. We can’t. But it’s there. Constant.

Pulling at something in me I’m not ready to name out loud.

I lower the camera for a second, checking the footage, adjusting a setting that doesn’t actually need adjusting just to give myself a reason to breathe.

Because this—this is getting harder to separate.

Work. Him. Us.

And the lines we’re trying so hard not to cross while standing right on top of them.

“Hey, Mads!” I glance up as Luka skates toward the boards, leaning over slightly, his grin still wide from whatever disaster they just pulled off. “You getting all of that?”

“Every second,” I tell him, lifting thecamera again.

“Good,” he says, nodding like he just did something impressive. “This is gold.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling.

Because he’s not wrong. Because this is the kind of stuff people love. Because I know exactly how I’m going to edit it.

And because even as I bring the camera back up—my focus shifts past him.

Back to Dean. Just for a second. Long enough to see the way he’s already looking at me.