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And his ass in those tiny shorts. The ass I’d spent an entire night inside.

“About what happened.” Dan audibly swallowed. “About Frank and Beans’ house.”

That managed to distract me, a shudder running down my spine. “But then you’d have to explain why we went there in the first place. Does Rafe want everyone knowing he got mugged by them?”

Dan sighed. “That’s true. No, he doesn’t. He’s not coming.”

“I don’t really want everyone knowing I walked out of that place without my pants,” I croaked, shivering again as I remembered that terrible, horrifying night.

The sand pit. The motel art. The paintballs. My poor nuts.

“We made a pact, man,” I croaked with a hint of panic. “No one can ever know. No one.”

“Okay. I won’t say a word, bro,” Dan said solemnly, then glanced over at me with a tiny, worried frown. “You okay? You’ve seemed kinda off this week.”

“I’m fine.” I resisted the urge to glance back up the staircase. “Do you know if everyone is coming to this?”

Dan shrugged. “Most of us, I think.”

“But not all?”

“Dunno. I mean, I’m sure every single one of us has at least one horror story about those two.”

“Yeah.” I chewed on my lip, following him into the arena.

Holt and Taylor had set up a circle of chairs in the empty space between the bar and the ring. Mads, Susan and Kenneth were already sitting down. Gabe and Biff were sipping coffee and talking to Holt. Kit was over by the bar, carefully counting the number of donuts in the two boxes resting there.

I glanced up at the windows overlooking the arena from the backstage area, but obviously couldn’t see anything from here.

“Good morning!” Taylor said cheerfully when he spotted us. “Help yourself to a donut and take a seat.”

I wasn’t hungry, so I dropped into a chair as Dan wandered over to join Kit, who seemed to be guarding the donut boxes and making sure everyone only took one. Tapping my foot restlessly, I shifted around to glance up at the windows again.

“No need to panic!” I heard Corey’s deep, smooth voice and tinkling laugh as he sat gracefully in the empty seat beside me and declared, “I’m here.”

I managed a stiff smile, drumming my fingers on the beaker in my hands. My knee started to bounce, until Corey laid a big hand on it and gently squeezed.

“Don’t be nervous, darling,” he murmured. “You’re in a safe space here. Group therapy is a wonderful way to…” He inhaled loudly through his nose, then let out the breath in a slow, drawn-out stream that I assumed was meant to be calming. “Clear the blockage causing tension inside you from the actions of our former colleagues. Let you purge it and move on, knowing you have support behind you.”

“Yep,” I said tightly, my other knee starting to bounce.

“Which reminds me.” He leaned in closer as I tensed. “I’d like to hold your and Crossbody’s first session next Monday, after the shows are over. I was hoping we could do it this week, but I’ll be very busy welcoming the new wrestlers and starting my rehearsals with Beast.”

My gut bottomed out. Something almost like excitement cut through my dark mood, tendrils of anticipation creeping in and making my pulse race.

I’d forgotten about the stupid therapy sessions. I still didn’t want to do them, but…

He’d have to talk to me. He’d have to look at me. Acknowledge me.

“Okay.” I gave Corey a brief nod. “Next Monday’s fine.”

He looked surprised that I’d agreed so readily, but his face broke into a big smile, tusks jutting up. “Wonderful. I’ll let Crossbody know.”

“Is he coming?” I heard myself quickly ask. “To this?”

“I don’t think so.” Corey crossed his legs and smoothed down his baby pink palazzo pants. “He was one of the fortunate ones. Didn’t have much interaction with them.” He leaned in closer again and lowered his voice. “Being so close to Dan, I assume you know about poor Rafe’s… incident with Frank and Beans?”

Oh yes. I fucking knew. It was the reason I’d ended up getting shot in the testicle with a paintball and losing my favourite pair of pants.