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Chapter thirty-five

Ryann

The crowd around me is noisy and restless. It’s so loud sitting here in the stands, but this place where I’ve always felt comfortable is now leaving me feeling exposed. I shift my weight and look left and right. The woman sitting two seats over has green paint on her face and is wearing plastic horns that light up. She could be anyone.

A wave of irrational fear hits me.

Where are Callan and Kit? They should have been back by now. I glance down at my phone, but there’s no missed calls or messages.

Even the game isn’t holding my attention. Every time I look at the ice, I’m reminded that Raider is hurt and Wren left last night.

My stomach churns.

Some time in the night, I decided to do something that is really hard for me. I’ve decided to trust Wren. He must have had a good reason. Someone doesn’t spend the time and emotional energy with the pack that he did and walks away from it. He asked for trust.

He loves us. It’s clear as day.

So, why did he leave? Why did he go to her? What did she blackmail him with?

He has to have a reason.

The guy on my right is huge, with an enormous belly and a booming laugh that startles me every time he lets it loose. He keeps making the row of seats shake. He reminds me somewhat of my dad .

I sit back, biting my lip. Raider’s injury has taken the joy out of the game, but while Callan and Kit have rushed off to help Raider, someone needs to stay here for Wren.

I hate us all being separated. It feels wrong.

I shift my gaze to the family in front of me. They remind me so much of my childhood. The mother is laughing and tying a scarf around her partner’s neck. He is smiling and looking at the other man who is leaning forward, pointing at the ice, two children staring at him avidly, hero worship in their eyes.

My chest aches. It’s hard to look away. It could have been us. Dad, Uncle, my mum and I. It was us for many years.

I blink away tears and hear the goal siren.

The lights dim and start to strobe. All around me, the crowd surges to their feet, roaring. The announcer shouts something that I don’t hear, and the crowd screams louder, throwing arms in the air and hollering. The atmosphere is electric, it’s powerful and contagious, but still, a part of me stays apart from everything.

A sudden sense that I’m alone and I will always be alone hits me. I shake my head, trying to dispel the horrid thoughts. Where did that come from?

Anxiety, my mind supplies.

But why am I anxious?

Where are Kit and Callan? What happened to Raider? I look down at the phone in my hands. There are no messages and no calls still. I look up and watch blindly as the game resumes.

I open my messages to Lia. She gave me her number when they visited and said no matter what, I had to call her if I needed anything.

I don’t know what I need.

My thumbs type out the words without much.

I think something bad is going to happen.

I press send.

I stare blindly down at the ice but jump to attention when Wren comes on. He’s not in his right mind. You can see it straight away. He’s distracted, and for the short time that he’s on, he does nothing for the game.

When he gets back to the bench, the coach leans over him and chews him out, but he doesn’t listen, and he’s not watching the game, he’s searching the stands.

I stand up. In a mass of people, my sudden move draws his attention. I can’t see his face clearly, but I can see the way he draws himself up.

He’s seen me.

I’ve seen him.

We’re not alone. We’re still standing .

This isn’t right, something is not right. I sit down and look at my neighbours. I saw the videos Kit was trying to hide. Raider had sex with an actress. It was before us, clearly. Raider would never do that.

I need to trust them.

He wouldn’t have done it in the last week. Still, the timing of that revelation, in the middle of a game, right after he’s been hurt and can’t come out and defend himself, is nothing short of sinister.

I reach up and touch the bond, stroking it.

I can’t feel much from the bond, but I do get small spikes of emotions. I can’t feel anything right now. Kit has it locked down so tight that not a thing is seeping through. I wish he’d open it, just so I’d know he was okay.

Wren is still watching me and not the game.

I wriggle in the seat and reach for my drink. I glance to the side of me at the two empty plastic seats that are just screaming Callan and Kit’s names.

Where are they?

I swallow hard and force myself to focus on the play, but in seconds, I’m checking my phone again.

Something’s not right.