Chapter 56
Chapter fifty-six
ASH
“You’re doing the thing again,” Beckett says without looking up, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “The fascinating mating rituals of the professional hockey player.”
“What thing?” I ask.
“Watching us like we’re a nature documentary.” He tucks rolls of tape and what looks like sandpaper into an outer pocket of his duffle bag.
The island counter is a mess of printed schedules, protein bars, rolled up socks. There’s a ziplock bag that has mouth guards and tiny bottles of mouthwash, another with earbuds and eye masks.
“Don’t encourage her. Last week she took notes. Soon she’ll be directing ‘The Fascinating Mating Rituals Of Scorpions,’” Liam snorts.
“I did not take notes,” I protest. “Okay. Fine. I did take notes. I don’t understand what’s happening half the time.
Beckett takes a huge bite of a sandwich, winking at me before winding up a tangle of power cords.
“You yelled at me for putting socks in the wash,” I pout.
Beckett cringes. “Yeah, sorry about that. Those are winning socks. They can’t get washed until the streak is over.”
“God forbid you mess with a winning streak.” Liam slides a sandwich in front of me. “At least he doesn’t wear the dirty socks anymore. He just won’t wash them.”
“Worth it.” Beckett shrugs.
I pick at my sandwich, watching them. It still feels surreal sometimes. They have a life and habits and things they’ve done for years. And they each have a specialization. Liam cooks. Pierce takes out the trash. There’s a house cleaner, but they take turns at the dishes and other chores.
And everything centers around hockey. And I just stand here and watch them do things.
“Earth to Ash.” Beckett waves a hand in front of my face. “You with us?”
“Sorry.” I blink back to the present. “Just thinking.”
Liam’s eyes soften slightly. He doesn’t push, just slides a glass of orange juice closer to me. “Drink. Vitamin C.”
“It doesn’t taste like it does back in Florida,” I say to the glass.
The front door slams and we all turn. “Honey, I’m home!”
Pierce marches in, loaded down with shopping bags. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This house always smells good, but the second Pierce walks in, I just want to tear off my clothes and swim in his scent.
“Miss me?” he asks, eyes finding mine.
“Oh, you were gone? I hadn’t noticed.” I deadpan. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and waggles his eyebrows.
And that’s the best damn part. The inside jokes. They tease each other all the time and I just love it.
He grins and drops the bags on the counter with a dramatic flourish. “I have returned bearing gifts. Behold!”
“I swear to god, if it’s more of that shitty zero sugar protein powder, we are going to revolt,” Liam says, leaning against the counter. “I’d rather eat actual food than whatever lab-created protein dust you’ve discovered now.”
Pierce raises an eyebrow. “Oh, ye of little faith.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out… a book. The glossy cover catches the light as he holds it up like a game show prize. “Healing Your Inner Child: A Guide to Emotional Recovery.”
“Pierce, I didn’t know you could read.” Beckett joins me at the counter and drapes an arm over my shoulder.
“That’s not all!” Pierce continues, undeterred. He pulls out book after book, stacking them on the counter. “‘Finding Peace After Trauma’, ‘Beyond Pack Dynamics’, and my personal favorite,” he pauses for effect, “‘Why Am I Always Angry? A Handbook for Alpha Rage.’”
Liam’s mouth falls open. “Pierce…”
“No, don’t give me that look. This was all your idea.” He throws a book at Liam. “You’re the one who said we’re all fucked up…”
“I didn’t say we were fucked up.” Liam glances cautiously at me.
“Oh right, Beckett’s not fucked up. He had a happy childhood,” Pierce says, then leans over the counter toward me with a stage whisper. “It’s a secret. Don’t tell Liam. Beckett had never been spanked. Until me of course.” He winks and tosses a book to Beckett.
“Jesus, Pierce.” Beckett catches it and goes beet red.
“What do you mean your parents didn’t spank you?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“Anyway,” Pierce continues. “You said we’re going to therapy. We went to therapy. He gave us a reading list.”
“It was a suggested reading list. You didn’t have to buy them all.” Liam sorts through the stack, reading titles.
“Compulsive shopping to mediate my abandonment issues.” He pauses, looks up at the ceiling. “That doesn’t sound right. It’s Beckett with the abandonment issues, right?”
“I don’t have abandonment issues,” Beckett protests.
“You text me every time I leave the house asking when I’ll be back,” Pierce counters.
“That’s just… being considerate.”
“And you,” Pierce turns to Liam, “need to stop trying to control everything because you’re afraid the world will fall apart if you don’t hold it together, because your birth pack was pure chaos.”
Liam crosses his arms. “That’s not…”
“Say that without clenching your jaw,” Pierce interrupts, then spins toward me. His expression softens as he pulls one last book from the bag. “And this one’s for you. They had to special order it.”
He places it gently in front of me. ‘Healing Through Creative Expression.’ The cover shows hands holding paintbrushes over a canvas filled with colors. Pierce leans down and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Well, this is certainly a change from storming out and punching walls,” Beckett observes dryly.
“I’m feeling my feelings,” Pierce declares, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m creating a safe space for vulnerability. I’m honoring my emotional journey. I’m just getting in touch with my authentic self.” His voice pitches higher. He makes prayer hands and bows slightly. “Namaste, bitches.”
“Oh my god, it’s the end of the world.” I scrunch my nose. “He has discovered self-help podcasts.”
I flip through the book. There seem to be a ton of exercises for creative projects. I did not enjoy our two therapy sessions. But if I can draw my way through it?
“Alright, well, we’ll start a book club when Beckett’s on the road, but we gotta pack his bags.” Liam hefts a stack of books and walks them to the living room coffee table.
“So,” I say, attempting to redirect the conversation before Pierce can assign us homework. “The game tomorrow is at six?”
“Seven,” Beckett corrects. “There’s a time zone change.”
I nod, trying to commit the schedule to memory. Maybe Pierce can get me a book on hockey basics. Grasping the rules of the game is one thing; life as a pro athlete is way different.
“The schedule is extra crazy because it’s the playoffs.”
“I’m going to have to figure out how to fit the games around my work schedule. But Estelle is really flexible about that.”
Liam slams a book on the counter and we all freeze.
“No omega of mine is working in a fucking diner,” he says, voice tight.
No omega of mine.
Mine.
I am unsure how I’m supposed to be feeling right now. Scared at the outburst? Concerned? Offended? Turned on?
Liam blinks, like he’s just as surprised by his outburst as we are. His neck flushes red. He pushes off the counter, and turns to leave the kitchen.
Pierce is there in an instant, blocking his path. “Nope. We’re not doing that anymore.” He wags a finger in Liam’s face. “If we’re committing to therapy, you stay and talk.”
“Pierce,” Liam warns, his voice low.
“Don’t ‘Pierce’ me. What did we just say about storming out?” He points to the books. “Communicating through conflict, remember?”
For a moment, I think Liam might actually shove past him. But then his shoulders drop slightly, and he turns back and plants himself in the kitchen.
“I apologize for my tone,” he says stiffly. “That came out… wrong.”
“You think?” Beckett mutters.
Liam shoots him a look before running a hand through his hair. He starts pacing, three steps one way, three steps back. They all do that. Pace back and forth. I wonder if it’s an alpha thing.
“I don’t… It’s not that I think omegas can’t work. Or shouldn’t. It’s not about that.” He stops, struggling for words. “It’s not about controlling you.”
“Then what is it about?” I ask quietly.
His eyes finally meet mine, and something raw flashes across his face.
“My mother was an omega,” he says. “I’m not sure you ever actually met her.
Our pack was… wasn’t good. Poor. Struggling.
She worked three jobs. Cleaning houses during the day, office buildings at night, weekend shifts at a laundromat.
She’d come home with her hands cracked and bleeding from chemicals. ”
He pauses and locks eyes with me.
“I’ve always wanted an omega. Someone to take care of. I swore if I found someone, she’d never lift a finger. She’d have everything, anything she wanted.”
“Papa used to…” All my alphas stiffen. I think it’s the first time I’ve said his name. “Sorry.”
“Pierce probably has a book for that,” Liam says with a sad, crooked smile. “This isn’t about him. This is about the life I want to create for you. With you.”
I want to hurdle the counter and jump into his arms and make him kiss me so hard I forget all of it.
“I, uh, sort of did something,” Liam pauses and puts his hand out like a stop sign. “Look, nobody get mad, okay?”
“What did you do?” Beckett asks.
He holds out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, I take it, letting him guide me around the counter. Pierce and Beckett exchange glances as Liam leads me from the kitchen, to his office. They, of course, follow.
I’ve only glimpsed inside this room a few times. Liam works from home mostly, so I pretty much figured it was off-limits. He pauses at the closed door, hand on the knob.
“I’ve been working on something,” he says. “It’s not finished yet, but…” He pushes the door open and steps aside.