Page 27 of The Gamma's Second Chance

I blink at her. “‘Puck it All?’”

She smooths her hair back from her face. “It’s a sports romance. Hockey.”

“I gathered as much from the ‘pucking’ cringy pun in the title.”

Her lips twitch with a quiet laugh. “It’s about a hockey player who falls for his coach’s daughter, even though he knows it could get him kicked off the team.”

“Forbidden love.” I nod. “Do they get caught?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she says, rummaging through her bag. “But I’m going to hazard a guess at yes, based on other books I’ve read with this trope.”

“Why read it then if it’s so predictable?” I ask her as she sticks a bookmark between the pages.

She shrugs and gives me a genuine smile. “Reading is an escape. Even when I figure out the twists before they’re revealed, it’s fun to wait and see how the author reveals them. And the satisfaction of being correct?” She inhales and closes her eyes, her book hugged to her chest. “Priceless,” she says with a sigh.

I start to ask her something else, but she straightens in her chair, brow furrowed as her focus shifts to the impassionedvoices filtering towards us from the stage of the theater. I’m immediately on alert, my wolf pushing forward in my mind, both of us ready to defend our luna.

But all I see when I look at the stage is Haven standing there, arms crossed, embroiled in an intense discussion with Peter, the director of the company. Her nostrils flare and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. I can sense her frustration, aggravation, and disappointment—three emotions that in recent months have triggered her aura to release without her permission. And when it does, it’s visible to other supernatural beings and palpable to them and humans, creating disturbances with the lighting and the mirrors in the studio rooms.

Today, however, there is no aura to be felt or seen. Anywhere.

I glance over my shoulder, and Cassandra sits on the edge of her seat, hands gripping the arms, her eyes still locked on Haven. The silvery, glittery starlight I’ve grown accustomed to seeing swirl around and from Haven now swirls within the green irises of Cassandra’s eyes, like she’s pulling the aura into herself, absorbing it so no one else can see it or sense it. The only way they’d notice is if they were close enough to see her eyes or paid enough attention to her to notice the change in their color.

It’s mesmerizing watching her use her ability. It’s subtle, hidden, and yet just as enchanting as watching Taryn heal someone or Maya cast a spell. Perhaps even more so.

Her body tenses, and she grips the arms of the seat harder, her shoulders rising and falling faster than normal and her chest heaving. Her lashes flutter, and she leans back into the seat, almost collapsing into the cushion. But she grits her teeth and stays upright, forcing a normal, neutral look on her face.

The urge to jump over the row of seats and comfort her, envelop her in my arms, overtakes me, but my phone rings, preventing me from acting on that desire.

“Hello?” I ask, answering the phone without checking to see who it is.

I already know anyway.

“Is Haven all right?” Wesley asks without greeting me or acknowledging me.

Not that I blame him. Haven is his everything; his priority is her well-being.

I glance at Cassandra once more, but I push my concern for her aside and turn my focus back to the stage, to Haven and the other company members. Except Haven isn’t there anymore.

Fuck.

“I—”

“Let me talk to him,” Haven says from the row behind me, easing my rising panic. Peter stands next to her, arms crossed.

She takes the phone from me without waiting for me to respond and walks down the row of seats to the aisle, talking to Wes as she does. “Hey,” she says, rubbing her forehead, her shoulders caving forward in exhaustion. “I’m fine. I mean, I’m not, but…”

“She couldn’t do a double pirouette properly,” Peter says, his voice blocking out the rest of Haven’s words to Wes. “That’s a turn with her leg bent and her foot against her knee, and—”

“I’ve been attending ballet rehearsals with Haven for four years now, Peter. I know what a double pirouette is,” I say.

“I know you do,” he says. “I was talking to her.” He jerks his head towards Cassandra, who still grips the arms of the seat tighter than normal and who forces a smile and a nod out in response to Peter. “Anyway,” he continues, “her pregnancy is throwing off her balance. Which is normal, and expected. But add in the hormones and her perfectionist tendencies and—”

“And you get a very upset luna,” I finish for him.

He laughs. “She needs a break. Physical and mental. I told her to take the rest of the day off.” I nod and grabmy bag, shouldering it as I stand. “Actually, I suggested she start her leave now. Lily—her temporary replacement—knows all the roles she’s covering and doesn’t need Haven’s coaching anymore. And the stress isn’t good for her or the baby.”

I shake my head and sigh, peeking around him to see Haven. A tear runs down her cheek as she listens to Wesley on the phone, her lip quivering as she holds in her cries. “I’m guessing she wasn’t too thrilled with that suggestion?”

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