Page 52 of Power Shift

I’ve seen the limp, and yeah, I’ve kept up with his physiotherapist. Sue me.

His knee is recovering fine, but it’s nowhere near good as new, especially with how hard he’s pushing himself.

His dad jerks his chin. He inspects the rest of us and scowls when he sees the ripped jeans Ronan chose to wear tonight.

“I see the dress code has gone . . .forgotten, once again,” he notes.

Ronan grows taller somehow. “All of my slacks were dirty. My apologies.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now. Scoot into the dining room and sit for dinner,” Mrs. Montgomery orders.

I pat Landon’s back when he leads the charge, Ronan falling into pace beside him. Jasper tugs at the collar of his shirt and walks on my right.

Landon’s father doesn’t wait for us to sit before speaking again. “Congratulations on the last win. It was too close, though. Florida doesn’t have the power to be outshooting you by fifteen shots. If it weren’t for Dash, you’d have lost that one.”

It’s not a compliment, and I don’t take it as one.

Ronan’s the first to sit at the long table. It’s already been set with expensive china and glasses topped with chilled water. The plum-coloured table runner matches the fabric napkins andcurtains hung over the tall windows. The properness of this place is intimidating but also just. . . unnecessary.

Our pack is the opposite of all of this.

We don’t even have a matching set of plates at home. Everything has been collected randomly over the years. Ronan’s mom is the only reason we have any semblance of decent furniture because she took his bank card the day after we bought the house. It’s still hard to believe that Landon grew up here in this mansion fit for royalty.

“Tomorrow is a new game. We’ll work out the kinks,” Jasper says, taking the spot on Ronan’s left.

I find my usual seat across from him while Landon sits beside me at the furthest place from his father. Mr. Montgomery lowers himself in the head chair across from where his wife will sit.

If there’s one person who that guy loves enough to warm even slightly, it’s Landon’s stepmom. The omega he found after losing the one who put on the greatest act in history.

“I sure hope so. Everyone expects the Riptides to make it to the Stanley Cup finals. There’s a lot riding on this season,” he says.

Landon pulls his chair in, clearing his throat. “We’ll do it.”

A nod of acknowledgment from his father. “That’s right. And you’ll start sleeping. You’ve been slugging down the ice every game.”

“I’m fine. Just feeling a little under the weather.”

I whip my head to look at him, frowning. “Why haven’t you mentioned anything?”

His jaw tenses. “Because it’s nothing. Some aches and pains. I’ll survive.”

Jasper and Ronan look at me at the same time. The concern from earlier doubles in size.

“You should make an appointment at a clinic. Something could be really wrong,” Jasper suggests.

I nod along with him. “When’s the last time you went into a rut?”

He rolls his shoulders out, unease tugging at his features. Quite possibly because I just asked him about a rut in front of his parents.

Oops.

“I don’t remember.”

“See the team doctor, Landon. Your health is important. The team needs you,” Mr. Montgomery chimes in.

I have to stifle a groan at his lack of awareness. The last thing that matters right now is hockey.

“Who’s ready to eat?” Mrs. Montgomery sings, bouncing into the room with platters full of food.

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