Page 5 of Twisted Ruck

Ramsey shrugged. "Same shit."

This was the first time I'd heard anyone call Ramsey by his nickname. I wondered if he lived up to it. He looked like he knew how to ram. I dropped my gaze to his groin for a few moments before forcing it back up to his face.

"Yeah." Dallas nodded again.

They conveyed a lot without saying much. It was a man thing, I supposed.

"Have any of you seen Atlas?" Jay squinted at me, but he seemed concerned, not accusing.

"Not since last night," I said. "We saw a concert and then…went separate ways. You haven't heard from him?"

"Nope," was Jay's simple response.

"I haven't seen him since training yesterday," Storm said. "Have you seen him, Frosty?"

"I was with you," Frost reminded him. "I haven't seen him either."

"Me either," Dallas said.

"Have you asked Goat?" Storm nodded towards Ramsey.

"Yeah," Ramsey said.

"He hasn't seen him either," Jay supplied. "I guess he'll…turn up."

"Like a bad smell, you won't get rid of him that easily," Storm said.

His indifferent expression suggested he'd be happy if Atlas never showed up at all. Or better yet, showed up floating face first in the bay, or in some kind of shallow grave. If that happened, he wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

I wasn't so sure about that. What if Bruce's death had something to do with Atlas' absence? For all we knew, they could both be dead, killed by… I honestly couldn't begin to guess. Not unless one of the guys contacted my brother while I was asleep.

I glanced over at them, but was almost certain they hadn't done anything behind my back.

"He's not—" Jay shook his head. "Whatever. We should get to the team meeting."

"Coach Stanley likes to start on time," Frost said. "He'll be pissed off if we miss any of it." He seemed resigned, and in no hurry. As if maybe if we held off for a little while longer, it would turn out to be some kind of giant prank. One in very poor taste, but still better than the reality.

"Right," Storm agreed. He clasped my hand tighter before I could suggest I not attend the meeting. He really would throw me over his shoulder and carry me if I tried.

Honestly, I was curious what Coach Stanley had to say. And the rest of the team management. They all must be scrambling to keep the pieces of this puzzle together. I didn't envy them that task at a time like this. Between organising staff and dealing with the press, they'd have their hands full.

Of course, I was sad for Bruce and his family, but the timing couldn't have been worse. The team was days away from the first game of the season. Now was the time they needed everyone and everything in place, not up in the air like someone took a pack of cards and threw it into the bay.

Ramsey placed a hand on Jay's shoulder and they walked together, in front of us, to the meeting room.

Predictably, the place was packed with players and staff. They stood or sat in small groups, whispering and giving each other hugs. One of the older staff was handing out tissues to those who needed them. They might need another box or two before this day ended.

The only person who seemed to notice my presence was Doctor Stuart. He sat in a chair near the window, knees crossed. He looked weary, like he hadn't slept in a couple of days. He gave me a nod and a tight smile before turning his attention back to the front of the room.

I should have realised I could attend without ruffling feathers. No one was going to stop to check things like that today. Their minds were on more important things than me.

We shuffled to the back of the room and stood against the wall, where we could see and hear, but be out of the way.

"I hate these meetings," Frost muttered. "I always want to say inappropriate things so only the people around me can hear them. That would be a shitty thing to do today."

"Yeah, today is a good day to keep it shut," Dallas agreed. He glanced down at the tired carpet on the floor. "I hate these things because it's fucking sad."

"Yes, it is," I said softly. The mood in the room was starting to get to me. A couple of people off to the side had tears sliding down their faces. I recognised one as Bruce's personal assistant. This must have hit her especially hard. Not as hard as his family, of course, but working close with someone and then losing themwas tragic. Especially when Bruce's replacement might decide to replace her too.

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