Rooming With My Ex-Mate's Hockey Star Brother

SADIE

THE QUIZY MUMMIES + THE MEN THEY TOLERATE GROUP CHAT

Me: Has anyone heard from Sophie? She was supposed to pick up the shirts, and now she won’t answer her phone.

Nia: Not me. I’ve been calling too.

Nia: She better not pull one of her disappearing acts today.

Caleb: why are there fourty new mesages

Caleb: i havnt even finshed showering

Noah: Then shower Caleb. Nobody asked you to come here wet and confused.

Caleb: Damn good evening to you too

Marcus: Sophie just texted me. She has the shirts but she’s running late

Nia: She can text Marcus but not the people calling her. Lovely.

Marcus: She said everyone should go ahead. She’ll be there before the game starts.

Me: Please tell her to hurry up

Me: Better still, ask her to answer one of my six missed calls. We’re supposed to take pictures in the new shirts during the game. We need them before it starts.

Priya: Do we wait for her outside the arena?

Me: No. Everyone should bring the regular club shirt as backup and meet at the agreed time.

Marcus: I’ll make sure she comes straight there.

Caleb: what is the agreed time

Noah: Scroll up.

Caleb: This group is so hostile.

Me: One hour, Caleb. I’ll see everyone there.

**************

I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but Conte Forum is beautiful. Huge too, though it’s hard to admire the place when the crowd outside keeps stepping on my feet.

I looked up the arena before coming and learned that it holds almost eight thousand people. At the time, that was only a number on my screen. Standing outside in the middle of a sold-out crowd makes it feel much more real—and reminds me that none of us would have tickets if Trey hadn’t arranged them through the marketing team as part of our collaboration.

”This is only my second game,” Nia tells me from behind, practically bouncing as the line moves forward.

”It’s my first.” I smile, but another rush of late-September air cuts beneath Trey’s jacket and has me wrapping both arms around myself. The black jeans were supposed to help, but the cold has already found every possible way through them.

Winter isn’t here yet, although it seems determined to introduce itself early, and unlike everyone around me, I don’t have an active inner wolf keeping me warm.

I glance back while the line moves again, searching between the people gathering behind us.

Sophie still hasn’t appeared.

Neither has a message. My screen remains empty when I check it for what must be the tenth time.

Usually, this would be enough to send my mind through every possible way the night could fall apart, but I already prepared for this. Everyone brought their regular club shirts, so even if Sophie is late, we’ll still have something coordinated for the pictures.

The new ones would be better, though. They were made for tonight, and after all the work we put into planning this collaboration, I want at least one part of it to happen exactly as intended.

Sophie said she would be here. I decide to believe her.

”Nothing bad is going to happen tonight,” I whisper to myself. ”Everything will go smoothly, and I’m going to have fun.”

”What did you say?” Nia’s head appears beside mine.

”Nothing.” I put my phone away before I can check it again.

Ngozi said new experiences might help my wolf surface sooner. I don’t expect one evening at Conte Forum to change everything, but as the line carries us toward the entrance, I catch myself hoping my wolf is curious about what’s inside too.

Our tickets are scanned, and Nia stays beside me as we follow the crowd through the concourse. Caleb and Priya went in ahead of us, and Marcus has already gone to find our seats. For a few minutes, I even manage to forget about Sophie’s silence.

Then Marcus appears ahead of us, scowling as he makes his way back. Caleb and Priya follow, neither of them looking much happier.

”What is it?” I ask when they reach us.

”People are in our seats,” Priya says.

I turn to Marcus. ”How? The seats behind the players’ bench were reserved for us.”

”They still are. A bunch of wannabe influencers are sitting there.” He glances back toward the section. ”I told them the seats were ours, but nobody moved. I don’t argue with women, I’m respectful, so you’ll have to come talk to them.”

Priya gives him a flat look. I’m inclined to agree with her, but sorting out Marcus’s definition of respectful won’t get us anywhere to sit.

I curl my hands into fists, then force them open. We have tickets with seat numbers on them. This doesn’t need to become a fight.

”Come on.”