And I am. Shaken, a little. Aware, definitely. But not broken. Not drowning.
Lucian lingers nearby, his attention scanning the space, but I catch it again, that flick of his gaze, across the room.
And I follow it.
Evelyn.
She’s speaking with someone, but she glances up at the same moment, her eyes catching his. There’s a pause. Small. Brief. But charged.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
We’re seated low.
Close enough to the ice that I can feel the energy of it, the cold bite of the arena air, the echo of skates cutting across the surface as players begin to filter out.
Elijah stays beside me, his body angled slightly toward mine, his hand still resting at my thigh like he doesn’t intend to let me out of reach.
The cameras are still there.
Not as close.
But I can feel them.
The awareness of being seen doesn’t disappear, it just changes shape.
“Lia.”
I turn.
Evelyn approaches, smiling, but her eyes are sharp, taking me in properly.
“You handled that really well,” she says quietly.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“It didn’t feel like it.”
“It never does,” she replies.
She squeezes my hand once before stepping back, her gaze flicking briefly to Lucian again.
He doesn’t move. But he’s watching her. Not the room. Her.
I file that away.
Movement on the ice pulls my attention back.
Warm-ups. And then, Jackson.
He skates out fast, confident, completely at home in a way that still catches me off guard every time I see it. He doesn’t look around aimlessly. He searches and finds me almost immediately. The shift in his expression is instant.
Sharp.
Focused.
That cocky edge settling into something more deliberate as he arcs slightly closer to our side of the ice. He lifts his hand and blows me a kiss.
