16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Lennon
Icall out the line change, smacking the back of Tyson’s jersey to send him out on the ice.
We are under the crunch. It’s the final period with only two minutes to go, and we are at a tie with the Gators.
We could go into overtime, but I want to end this game as clean as possible.
Reaffirm our last ten game winning streak before shit hit the fan.
There has been enough negative talk about the Cardinals in recent months.
I am not interested in listening to the chatter that would ensue if we lose this game, too.
Tyson, Burk and Shibaski jump over the boards, skating into the game alongside Holden, Carver and Mason, the replacement goalie for Sebastian.
I finally got the chance to go and see our previous goalie a few weeks ago. His recovery is tedious, but he is finally able to walk around unassisted.
He will never skate again though. That had been a hard pill to swallow for all of us, but most of all him.
His hockey career finished the moment that feral Alpha slammed into his body after a call I made to see the team aggravate him.
That moment still haunts me. The sound his body made when he hit the ice.
Seb refused to listen to any of my apologies.
He reaffirmed that he was all in on my plan.
That the only person that is at fault is the Alpha.
One who ended up being shipped off to a treatment facility after they still weren’t able to bring him out of his state.
I take another glance at the clock, feeling a hint of panic as the seconds keep ticking away.
Holden skates up alongside the bench, and I push through to the front, grabbing him by the jersey before he can get too far.
He gasps, turning wide eyes to me, his gaze darting around before meeting mine. “Coach?”
“Woods, if you don’t win me this fucking game by the time that buzzer goes off, I will never let you between my legs ever again.”
That oughta do it.
I push him away before he has a chance to reply.
My words will be all the ammunition he needs to get the job done.
We haven’t been intimate at all since I returned.
In fact, I’ve never given him any inclination that it was on the table.
I mean, it isn’t on the table, but the asshole has a way of growing on me.
He’s crawled beneath my skin so deeply, and despite my attempts at standing on business and remaining firm in my decision to keep them at an arm’s length, it’s hard.
Especially when fate practically stitched them to my damn shadow.
As much as I’d not wanted to admit it to myself, I’m fighting a losing battle when it comes to them.
I can’t tell what is real and what is true when it comes to my instincts.
I should have known that was something I’d have to face when I came back here.
But the truth is, them being here didn’t sway my decision to buy the team one bit.
They had been the reason for my hatred. The reason I’d spent months unable to think clearly was because I was equal parts grieving and fighting the magnetic pull that forces us together.
The rejection that fate was punishing me for.
Because that’s exactly what I did. I rejected them, and I, too, had to pay the consequences.
I could not heal. I could not sleep. And with everything else on my plate, I was so beyond overwhelmed it wasn’t funny.
I hadn’t admitted that being back has helped me think more clearly.
I’m sleeping. Eating. My thoughts are entirely my own, only a lot more controlled. Apparently not, because Blake is staring at me with wide, almost terrified eyes, the questioning look causing my nerves to spike.
I hadn’t meant to be so loud. I don’t want the team to lose respect for me in any way, and no one knows about the relationship between me, and pack Ars Motis.
Is there a relationship? No. Not really.
But there is history. One that’s better left in private to prevent another fucking media outrage.
A scandal is not what I need right now, especially when I’m still trying to navigate the others, so it’ll have to be our secret until further notice.
I just shrug my shoulders, feigning nonchalance because that’s all I can think to do at this moment. “Had to give our forward a bit of motivation. You know how it is.”
“Sure, Coach,” Blake says, but I think he genuinely believes me.
Dodged a whole ass bullet there.
It worked.
A mix of water and beer spray around the room as the team celebrates our eleventh win.
The team song echoes around us, and I can’t help but laugh as three of the guys pick up Mason, carrying him around in celebration.
He saved a play in the very last seconds that would have sent us into overtime after Holden scored the game-winning goal.
To say that I am impressed is an understatement.
The boys did exactly as I asked of them.
They solidified our spot in the ranks as we get closer and closer to that top position.
We might actually make it to the Stanley Cup.
It’s only weeks away now, the date haunting me with every day that passes.
The last time we got this close to the biggest game of the season, Brett stormed in and fucked everything up.
He’s been eerily quiet since I received my inheritance and purchased the team back.
I don’t doubt that he’s just biding his time and waiting for the perfect moment to rear his ugly head again.
Alphas like him don’t stay quiet for long, and they sure as shit don’t take kindly to being outmatched by an Omega.
I took something from him.
Something that he thought he was entitled to.
That much I have gathered after what Holden overheard and my final discussion with Brett.
Not to mention the stories Julian told me.
How his behavior toward my parents’ pack and my grandfather had caused them to go no contact.
Brett made his own way after that, and he didn’t do it by being honest. He lied his way to the top, and according to Julian, there are a lot of big names with even bigger debts knocking on his door.
That explains why he’d want my inheritance, so I hadn’t been far off in my assumption.
But it still stings. Knowing that my only living relative is a complete fucking basket case.
For now, I watch over my shoulder, keeping my lawyers on retainer now that I have something to lose.
Julian too. He’s worth his weight in gold and I’d give him so much more if he’d accept it.
But he won’t. He’s in it for the right reasons.
To help those who need it most. That’s something he and I had in common.
Law will always be something I love. A calling for another life of mine.
But looking around this room, at the glee on the players’ faces, I know that I made the right decision.
And I won’t give any of this up without a fight.
The Cardinals mean too much to me. The reasons why and how I got here are ugly, memories that I don’t care to relive or think about, but without those moments, I wouldn’t be able to keep my father’s memory alive.
A portrait of Glen Welsh Jr. is hung in the entry foyer.
There was a fond glint in Clive’s eyes when he saw the man he had once worked so closely alongside.
I think it made him remember the real reason that we are all here.
It’s not about the money. It’s about the love for a sport.
The thrill that sings through all of our veins as we watch the puck sing down the ice with a player chasing after it.
Knowing that they’re putting their whole fucking heart and soul into something that only we’d understand.
Holden catches my eye from across the room. A cheeky, familiar smile graces his handsome face, and I remember the deal I’d made with him.
I could play with him a little. I could turn this into something fun for me and not for him, but I know I’d just be kidding myself. I’ve denied myself happiness enough this year.
It’s harmless. Right? I turn, not giving him a second look. I know he will follow me. I could almost put money on it.
The offices are quiet even though the arena and lockers are still bustling with people.
It is the perfect setting to let off some post-game adrenaline.
My office door closes gently behind me but I don’t turn around.
I already knew he was following me. I had smelled him.
The fevered hitch in his scent. The eagerness I could almost taste.
The anticipation and desperation of my promise.
Holden steps up into my body, his hands working their way down my arms and to my waist. His fingers crawl over my hips, the touch doing more to me than any of my toys have managed these past weeks.
“Watching that demanding side of you does something to me, Lennon,” he whispers into my ear. “You already make it difficult to focus when I know your pants hug this perfect ass of yours.”
I groan as he trails his hands over the curve.
“The idea of all those fuckheads behind you ogling what’s mine makes me goddamn murderous,” he admits, allowing me to hear the truth of his possession in his tone. The low growl so unlike a Beta, but is everything Holden.
“Not yours,” I whisper back to him, even though my words are empty.
Holden has spent the past weeks since I finally agreed to a truce proving to me the kind of person he really is. After hounding me with text messages, the nice kind, handwritten notes left on my desk and in my clipboards I use during training, begging me to agree to a date, I finally said yes.