“What’s wrong?” Nolan asks the second I step out of the bathroom. He’s been waiting for me, and I nearly face-plant into his chest. “I . . . Sorry about the draw.” “I don’t care. Who was that arbiter?” Shit. He noticed. “No one. I just . . .” I step around him, but one hand closes around my upper arm. “Mallory. You’re not okay. What just happened?” His tone is firm.
