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Now Adeline just looks sad, frowning. “Pace, I haven’t had contact with your mother in years. My family ties to the Gilded Rose gave me a purpose, but you know better than anyone that Rufus watched our every move.” Her eyes plead with me to understand. “It wasn’t safe for her or the children, and she knew that. That’s why she gave them up for adoption as soon as they were born.”

I balk. “She got out with them, and then gave them up?”What a waste.That’s all I can think as I take in the thought of her handing her babies—fuck, two of them—over to some stranger.

Some days, it’s hard to even leave Justice to go to class.

“She did it to protect them,” Mama B says. “She didn’t care if Rufus found her, but the thought of him finding her children…”

Through the lump in my throat, I finish, “And doing to them what he did to me.”

Scooting closer, Adeline explains, “She didn’t get a choice with you, Pace. But with those two babies, she was able to choose the family. A nice couple with three kids, if memory serves.”

I ask the question that I’ve been holding on to all night. “Do you know how I can find her?”

Them?

She and Mama B share a look. “I know where to start, although for everyone’s safety, the information changes quickly. We took her to a safe house in Northridge, and from there, she went underground. I do know she had the babies—mycontact showed me a picture. After that… the trail runs thin. Intentionally.”

“That’s all I need,” I tell her, setting the teacup on the table. My heart and mind are racing. “I can hack into just about anything once I have a lead to go on, and this thing about Northridge?—”

“Pace,” Mama B says, resting her hand on my knee. “You can’t hack your way into this one.”

“Sure I can.” I’m itching to get to my setup now.

“Hacking into a system like this will put women at risk,” she explains. “Rufus may be gone, but other abusers are out there. You can't punch a hole in their privacy and security. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ll help you,” Adeline says. “But you’re going to have to trust us.”

Trust two women I barely know with one of the most important details of my life?

“Fine,” I breathe, rising to my feet. Mama B follows and I extend a hand to Adeline, watching surprise cross her face at the gesture. Gently, she takes it, giving my hand a shake.

“Pace,” Adeline says, “always remember that your mother thought of you first. Every move, every sacrifice, was with the consideration of her children.” She touches my cheek. “She loved you, and she’d be so proud to see the amazing man and father you’ve become.”

Even though the words are coming from Adeline and not my mother herself, I feel the truth in them. Odette is a survivor. Just like I am.

And that’s a bond we’ll always share, even if I never get the chance to meet her.

28

Verity

Wicker shoots to his feet,eyes ablaze. “Are you serious about that call, Ref?!” Thrusting out an arm, he gestures to the penalty box, which is empty. “How is that fucking guy not?—”

I grab Wicker by the arm and yank him down, giving him a stern look. Pulling a face, he mouths ‘sorry’ and tweaks J.J.’s beanie before continuing as if he never stopped, “How is that not a freaking high sticking? I mean, fuck.” He glances down, wincing. “I mean,fudge.” Rant over, he drops into the seat next to mine, grousing, “Face it, Red. This new no-cussing rule is hopeless.”

“We can try,” I stress, mouth twitching as I watch Wicker.

He perches on the edge of his seat, eyes fixed on the ice. A palpable energy radiates from him. Every play Pace makes is a symphony of emotion and Wicker's reactions mirror it, swift and intense. As soon as the Wittmore center gets the puck, Wicker leans forward, hands clenched, breath held, as if his sheer will could make Forsyth's defense check him harder. Around us, the crowd is a blur because I'm unable to watch anything buthim and Pace, their connection still tethered, even when they're separated by a rink full of people.

I nudge him. “You miss it.”

Wicker exhales like a punch. “So fuck—” he gulps, “sofreakingmuch.” He takes J.J. from me, adjusting the miniature version of Pace’s jersey—number three, Sinclaire —and holds him tight. “But if they advance, I’ll get to travel with the team to Northridge next week. Plus, this is pretty cool, too. Introducing my man to the most epic sport in the world.”

“You know,” I hedge, “it’s possible he won’t want to play hockey.”

I turn to Lex for support, but he and his brother just share an incredulous look. Lex decides, “Well, that’s just crazy talk.”

My phone rings, and now that my hands are empty, I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Mama.