Chapter 28
chapter
twenty-eight
“Tubs looks like his ass is on fire.”
Chortles echo through the locker room while Theo Matthews, our tight end, busts my balls. I narrow my eyes at him.
“How are those chin pubes coming along?” I clap my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, little guy, they’ll grow in eventually.”
His packmate and our quarterback, Declan Howard, snorts while Theo sputters. We have a long-running joke about how much thicker my hair and beard are.
Matthews may have the Viking thing going on, but my Samoan blood makes his facial hair pitiful by comparison. I’m also the only guy on the team who’s both taller and wider than him.
He always gets back at me by pointing out how ancient I am. So, I’m not surprised when he laughs, “Your beard is only better because you’re, like, a thousand, Father Time. How much slower were you in the sprints this morning?”
I snap my towel at him, covering for the fact that his question actually makes me frown. I was slower than ever this morning. Usually, I’d make a point of getting him back by pointing out the very obvious rug burn on his ass, but I’m too busy trying to yank my clothes out of my locker to do much else.
It’s 2:40 and I promised my omega I’d be home by three.
“You’re not even going to ball-tap him?” Declan whines, then notices how I almost shove both my feet into the same pant leg. “Damn, you really are in a hurry.”
Theo looks suspicious behind all of his blond facial hair. “Got a hot date or something?”
I can’t tell if he’s still kidding. The guys on the team normally give me plenty of shit for dating. I am old, after all. And enormous.
Actually, one of their quips about me crushing the last chick was sort of hilarious. And unfortunately accurate.
But now, a squirmy panic settles over my stomach. Fuck . I’m going to have to be so careful with Serena. She’s as small and delicate as that little hummingbird charm she wears around her neck.
“Not a date,” I admit, shrugging my T-shirt on. I glance around us to make sure no one else is listening and lean forward. “We met a girl. An omega.”
Declan and Theo freeze. Look at each other. And then they both whoop .
Dec slaps my arm while Theo bounces up and down like a teenage girl at a Harry Styles concert. “Holy shit! GET IT TUBS!”
The whole locker room is staring now. Of course.
I give them all my best impersonation of Avery’s death glare until they go back to their own shit. Then I hiss, “It’s not public information yet, you knotheads. Tristan has to tell the press and all that stupid shit.”
If anyone will understand, it’s them. Their pack leader is a high-profile tycoon who also happens to own our football team. They’re all used to dealing with the media.
Declan nods, unbothered. “That’s cool. Meg will still want to meet her, though. You know she loves you, Tubs.”
Their omega does social media stuff for the team and I’m one of her favorite players to film. Apparently, I’m, as she puts it, “one juicy beefcake.”
Will Serena be okay with me working around another omega? Will she want to meet Meg? Or is that weird?
Jesus. We really were unprepared for this shit.
Theo’s face loses all traces of teasing. He gives me a little shake and a reassuring smile. “She’ll like it. They can all talk shit about us.”
I cringe. “All?”
“Meg will want to bring her best friend,” Declan says. “But she’s cool. Her pack runs the Timberwolves hockey team.”
Well, as long as they’re all packed up, it shouldn’t be a big deal?
I don’t know, but my five minutes are up.
“I’m late.” I shove my shit into my duffle and make sure Coach isn’t looking. “Make up some excuse for me.”
I find Serena in the backyard.
That isn’t a surprise at this point. When she isn’t cuddled with Avery in his room or watching me cook dinner, she loves being out here in the sunshine. She also loves movies—even the really bad ones—nature documentaries, and taking little walks around our neighborhood.
And me? I love to watch her.
On her knees in a sunny patch of grass on the other side of our pool, she closes her eyes and runs her palms through the springy green. Feeling the blades, letting them tickle her hands.
When she brings her hands to her face and inhales, I wonder if she’s thinking about Tristan and his summery, grassy scent.
From what Avery and I can tell, the Thorne brothers have all but ignored her since she got here.
For Spencer, it’s fear. He’s never told me why, but I know he has issues with people touching him. I’m sure, with how much he must want this woman, he’s terrified of what will happen once he gives in.
The inevitability of it can’t be easy for him, either. He’s always so in control. Knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he loses it is probably fucking with his head.
Tristan is a whole other beast. I feel him sometimes, watching from the next room, observing her with gut-wrenching sadness in his eyes.
I’m not sure if Serena realizes how scared she is of him. Whenever he walks into the room, her scent descends into the delicious darkness that makes me queasy. I know Tris has noticed it because he’s steadily started avoiding her.
Not wanting her to suffer. Taking whatever pain it causes him to walk away. Believing he doesn’t deserve to try to woo her.
I can’t decide if that makes him noble or stupid.
While I watch, Serena shifts on her knees, sunlight slanting over her dark head. Recapturing my complete attention instantly.
God, she’s fucking beautiful.
Glossy brows match her thick black lashes. They twitch against the apples of her cheeks, which are underlined by high, delicate cheekbones. Her nose slopes adorably, ending in a little button. And her lips are a dark, dusky rose that goes with her complexion .
I like that we sort of match, both of us with richer coloring than the rest of the pack. Mine is more russet, though, and hers has gold undertones. Our hair is similar, too. Coarse and black—but mine kinks and waves while hers falls in straight swoops.
I wonder what her heritage is. I wonder if she knows. I should order one of those DNA kits. We could all do them, like a little pack project.
My mind spins, conjuring all sorts of things I could do with her. All the stuff she’s probably never had a chance to experience.
We could go to the beach. I could teach her to drive the boat our pack only uses twice a year. There’s a chance she doesn’t even know how to drive a car …
I’ll show her that, too , I decide.
We can travel. She should see everything .
While I think, she looks around, a small smile pulling at her lips. Which makes the extra creaks in my knees and the healing cuts on my hands so fucking worth it.
Planning a surprise for our cunning little omega wasn’t easy. I had to distract her with stuffed crust pizza while the landscaping company delivered everything; and Avery kept her occupied most of the weekend so I could clear out the old, overgrown garden beds to plant fresh stuff for her.
I may have gone a little overboard—rose bushes, tomatoes, tons of herbs. Toward the back, she even has her own little grove—orange, lemon, lime, and mango trees.
I finally finished up last night and took the tarps off everything. This might be the first time she’s seen all of it—and now I’m very glad I cut out of practice early.
While I lean into the back door’s jamb, she rises to balance on her knees and gingerly reaches out to touch the basil plant closest to her. The little curve on her lips splits into a real smile.
So worth it .
I can’t stay away anymore, lumbering down the lanai’s steps to the pool deck. She hears my heavy tread and turns, her hand flying up to grasp something on her chest .
Her necklace , I realize.
Along with manamea , I’ve started calling her hummingbird in my mind. Partly because of small gold charm she wears all the time. But, also, she sort of looks like a flighty little hummingbird when she floats around our house, hovering at the edges of every room like there’s a flower she wants to land on but isn’t sure if it’s safe.
We had lots of hummingbirds back home. My mom used to take me out early in the morning to watch them zip through her garden. They really do hum when they do that, their wings a blur of color and sound.
Our eyes meet across the pool. A deep slice of longing cuts through my chest.
She’s let me hold her every day. Treating her touch starvation—at least, that’s what I said, and she’s never corrected me. Since Avery has mostly taken responsibility for her heat-spikes, I make sure she gets all the non-sexual affection she wants, even if it means my dick and I live in a constant state of desperation.
At least being around her perfume has gotten easier to take. Which just makes it better, somehow. Now that I’m used to it, I can appreciate all its subtle nuances.
And sometimes, when we’re cuddled together on the couch or in her bed, and I’ve breathed her in enough, I find myself forgetting about it.
And then it’s just… her .
Which I love even more.
As soon as our eyes lock, hers sparkle. She gestures at the new plants. “I think we might have gardening fairies. Or gnomes.”
She makes little jokes, but only when she’s extremely relaxed. The fact that I did that for her, today, fills me with more pride than fifteen seasons in the NFL ever has.
“I hope not,” I grunt, playing along. “Gnomes are a bitch.”
She giggles, but the humor quickly falls off her face. Intensity brightens those big green eyes. “Jonah, did you do all of this yourself? ”
I nod, coming a few steps closer. “It was no big deal. I planted some tomatoes and a bunch of herbs over there. If they like this spot, you and I will go to the garden center and get more. Maybe a few more fruit trees, too. They look nice, right?”
She just stares at me, gaze swirling as her scent sweetens. I’m too far away to tell if she’s happy or upset, so I do my best to give a casual shrug. “If you don’t like it, I can?—”
With my eyes cast down, I miss the way she darts toward me.
Which is how the Orlando Ospreys center winds up getting thrown to the ground by an omega.