Page 67 of Crossing the Top Line

Tori sighs deeply, shoulders slumping as she rubs her temples. “Fine. I can’t force you to do it, but Iwillthrow you under the bus if my boss gives me shit,” she says eventually.

My heart jumps, pleased that she didn’t fight me over this. “Fine. I can take it. Do you need someone to walk with you to your car? I don’t want Henderson to catch you alone,” I ask, shoulders settling.

Tori rolls her eyes and scoffs. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He’s a pompous blowhard. Besides, I can outrun him even in three-inch heels.”

I chuckle and don’t push the issue, knowing I’m already on thin ice here. Her posture softens after a moment, and she gives me a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Mark’s been in the game longer than most of us have been alive, and he thinks that makes him untouchable. You didn’t need to say anything, and it’s going to be a nightmare cleaning up the fallout, but I can’t deny it was nice to see him put in his place for once,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.

I smile back, clenching my arm muscles to stop myself from reaching out to give a comforting touch. It tugs at my heart to know she’s been dealing with that prick for the past six years, but I can only try to make things better from this point forward. I know this won’t be the last time she has to deal with Mark Henderson, but if I have my way, she won’t have to do it alone anymore.

Themandatorymediatrainingsession that followed Spencer’s little confrontation with Mark Henderson might have been the funniest joke I’ve ever heard. The big wigs try to tell us that we have to be respectful to members of the press, and do our best to be polite and accommodating of their requests for our time. News of what that scummy reporter said to Tori spread through the locker room like wildfire, so not a single one of us took it seriously.

I don’t know if it’s because of our flippant attitudes, or if Coach had a bad night’s sleep, but whatever it is, the practice before our trip out west isrough. No one has much to say in the locker room, and I swear I catch Zemgus sleeping standing up in the showers. But the one person who doesn’t look like he’s ready to pass out at any given moment is, weirdly, Oliver.

“Do you think we can find a room to lie down in before the meeting?” Spencer asks through a yawn as we’re finishing up getting changed.

Oliver shrugs, and I narrow my eyes at him. But he either doesn’t notice my curious look or chooses to ignore it as he gets to his feet with a soft groan.

“You guys go on ahead. I’ve got a thing,” he says simply, heading out of the locker room without another word.

I look at Spencer, but he’s lost in his own half-asleep world and doesn’t pick up on Oli’s weird behavior. But it’s been hard to ignore that every Tuesday since training camp, a total of eleven Tuesdays by my calculations, my future mate has had a “thing” to do at lunchtime. And after our Canada trip, I have a sneaking suspicion of who exactly that thing is.

Spencer doesn’t even notice when I push off the bench and leave him behind, following the barely noticeable traces of Oli’s saffron and raspberry scent through the halls and out into the arena lobby. And my suspicions are confirmed as I catch Oli and Tori walking across the street together.

A kind, respectful person would walk away. I know where my mate is going, and it’s not anywhere we haven’t already talked about. He’s within his rights to go out to lunch with Tori. I should really turn around and head back inside and try to get some rest before the afternoon meeting.

But damn it. Now I’ll never be able to sleep if I don’t know what they get up to.

I jog across the lobby, keeping my eye on their retreating backs, so I don’t lose them in the winding streets that surround the arena. They make a turn down an alley and I rather skillfully hide my bulky frame behind a stack of empty boxes before they can see me, if I do say so myself. I can almost hear theMission Impossibletheme playing in my head as I creep down the alley and then poke my head out, looking for where they might have gone. But my stomach falls in disappointment when the street beyond is empty. There’s a deli one shop down, the dusty window making me doubt if it’s even a functional business, and not much else down here.

I’m about to turn around and go back to the arena, when movement in the window catches my attention. Tori’s gold highlights shine under a ray of sunshine as she sits facing me, and then Oli slides into the seat across from her.

Target reacquired.

I stroll out down the street toward the deli, pretending like I’m taking in the sights before I, oh-so casually, turn to look at just the right time and meet Tori’s wide-eyed and slack-jawed stare. I grin and wave before bustling into the shop, the bell above the door chiming brightly. The air in here smells like years of frying oil and a hint of seafood, but not in the gross stale way. It almost reminds me of the way the pubs in fishing villages smell back home. Tori and Oli are sitting across from each other in a fiberboard and plastic booth, so I grab a chair from another nearby table and swing it around so I can sit backwards on it between them.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I start, trying to keep the mischief off my face.

From the incredulous and annoyed look on Oli’s, clearly I’m not doing a good enough job.

“How’d you find us?” Tori asks, the tightness in her words pulling my attention away.

She’s pale, eyes flicking around with…fear, judging by the sour twist of lemon to her scent. I reach out and take her hand over the table, squeezing gently to bring her focus back to me.

“Hey, it’s okay. No one else saw you leave, or me leave, for that matter. And even if they did—”

“No,” Tori snaps over me, catching me off guard for a moment before she stops herself and softens. “I’m sorry, it’s just…people would ask questions, and I’m not sure…what I would say,” she goes on, picking at a chip on the table.

Oliver reaches out and takes the hand I’m not holding, pulling her attention to his face. His amber eyes are glowing in the midafternoon sun streaming through the plate glass, the ends of his dark hair curling around his ears and over his forehead. God, he looks good, and if we weren’t in public, the things I’d do to this man…

“We don’t have to rush into anything you’re not comfortable with. That being said, we should talk about what it is we’re doing here, just so we’re all on the same page. Because I’m sure Eli didn’t decide to wander down the same paths behind us because he thought it would be a fun way to spend our lunch break,” Oli says, breaking the spell.

I tuck my chin and give Tori a shy grin. Oli can read me like a book, and I won’t deny the negative feelings I’d had that pushed me to follow them covertly. She nods vaguely, but doesn’t answer, staring off into the middle distance and chewing her lower lip.

“For my part, if we want to be together as a trio, I’m completely open to that,” I start, filling the silence before it can get any more awkward.

Tori looks at me then, the pink tinge to her cheeks probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. She turns to Oli, who waits another heartbeat, his eyes scanning her face to catch every micro expression.

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