Of course he knows I’m here. “Just checking in, boss. You know you can talk to me if you need a safe place.”
“I don’t.” His tone is clipped.
Nodding, I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m simply reminding you that you’re not alone.”
He tilts his head back, his chest expanding with a deep breath. He turns slowly toward me, his expression shattered. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
I start to leave, but he calls me back. “Wraith.”
“Yeah?”
“You would tell me, right? If something were wrong? All of you would tell me? Even if you just suspected something was off.”
“I would tell you, yeah. I’m sure the guys would too.”
“I don’t want anyone thinking it’s weak to need help.”
“Understood. Did Stealth think that?”
He nods subtly. “I’m not sure where his feelings lie now.”
“We’re here to support you both. You can ask for help too, boss.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Do you still speak to…” I’m not sure if I should ask the question, but I’m already there. “Bellamy?”
He flinches like I’ve punched him. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Curious, I guess. He seemed to make you happy.”
His gaze turns cold and he looks away from me. “Happy?” He chuckles darkly. “What does that even mean? The problem with…” His words trail off as he huffs.
“I’m listening, Shadow.”
“It doesn’t matter. No, I don’t speak to Bellamy, and I would appreciate you not mentioning his name again, especially after Stealth gets home.”
Damn. I think Colson was spot on. “Of course. Apologies.”
“Don’t apologize for caring.”
I nod, offering a slight smile. “We’re here for you.”
“Thank you.” He moves to his desk, signaling the end of this conversation.
He’s never been a talkative guy, but he’s more guarded than ever these days. I hope Stealth coming home will be a good thing for both of them. Shadow deserves some good things.
Later that night, I walk into the arena with Carnage by my side, both of us dressed in the most basic clothes. I really don’t like this blending in part, but I have to admit Colson was right. I get far fewer looks from the fans than I did that first night in my normal garb.
Carnage is pumped up, grinning widely as we make our way to our seats. These aren’t as well placed as the last ones were, but I can see the seats where the target supposedly sits if I strain to my left a bit.
When the announcer starts calling out player names, my attention shifts to the ice, waiting for Bouche to be called. When he skates out, the crowd goes wild and heavy rock music blares over the speakers. A slight smile tugs at my lips. I hope I’ll get the chance to touch him again later.
“Bouchard is an amazing player. So is Landham,” Carnage says.
“I don’t know who that is.”
