Page 97 of Traded

My stomach turns.

“That’s not true,” I whisper. Lauren’s hand settles on my knee.

Sources. Classmates. How long has she been digging up dirt on us? How many stones of my life has she picked over for whatever story she’s building?

Nobody is interrupting now. Everyone’s too busy waiting for an answer. Valerie lifts her recorder. “Boone, did you leave college because of an inappropriate relationship with your teammate’s partner?”

“No,” Boone says immediately. The word is sharp enough to cut. Beside him, Carter looks like he’s on the verge of flipping the table over. His fingers grip the edge tightly.

Valerie doesn’t blink. “Wasthere a relationship?”

Boone leans into his microphone. He’s not smiling. “Jesus, Valerie. You make it sound like I stole his girl. What are we, twelve? Let’s all move on, shall we?”

“So there is not, nor has there ever been, a relationship between you and Rosie Johnson?” She holds her recorder higher.

Boone’s mouth curves, but it isn’t a smile. It’s the expression he wears before a face-off, all teeth and nerves and somethingreckless burning underneath. “Not then. Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it now, though.”

He grins into the silence. “How’s that for your rivalry story, Val?”

Carter moves so fast his water bottle tips over. His roar gets picked up on every microphone, amplified until it bounces back at us from every wall. “You fuckingasshole.”

He launches himself at Boone. Both of their chairs tip back, the two alphas sprawling across the floor as reporters push closer, yelling between the teams who try to push their way through to get to their captain.

And at the back of the room, isme. Lauren is talking to me urgently, but nothing gets through. There’s only a buzzing in my head.

Some turn away from the front when they can’t get close enough to Boone and Carter for a good photo. They stare at me instead, moving closer. Flashes set off in my face, and all I do is sit there as they call things out to me.

To the foster girl. The omega. The partner.

And beneath the shouts, beneath Ness demanding the cameras be turned off and someone yelling my name above the crowd, I hear the quiet click of someone taking my photograph.

I’m used to them being the story. Until now. I flinch back from another flash, and Lauren steps in front of me. “Back the hell off!”

The room is descending into chaos. An arm wraps around my shoulders and I try to shove it away—

“It’sme.” Hands fight with me. “Rosie, stop. It’s me!”

Liam.My hands stop in mid-air, a sob leaving my mouth. “I—”

“I need to get you out of here.” His face could be carved from stone, but his touch is gentle. “He’s not going to calm down until you’re away. Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lauren says. She holds up a hand against another flash.

“No.” He stops her, holding out a hand but dropping it. There are too many cameras here. “Stay here with Jonas. I need to focus on Rosie right now.”

“Sure.” But I see the faint flinch back against his words. “That okay with you, Rosie?”

I don’t get a chance to answer before Liam bundles me out of a side door and into the hall, away from the ruckus inside.

“Come on,” he says grimly. “Home.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Consequences

Iforgot to bring the cookies home.

Sitting on the couch, I run the edges of my favorite blanket through my fingers. Liam crouches down in front of me, holding out my Titans mug. Steam gently unfurls from the top. “Tea?”