Chapter 23
ACE
“We just left training five minutes ago, Daniels. If there’s a fire, Ace and I had nothing to do with it.” Finch answers the call through the hands-free while driving.
Sarah Daniels, the eighteen-year-old PR intern for the Wolves, is on the other end of the line, and we both know it’s not a social call.
The youngest member of the Wolves’ administrative team is forever hounding us to make stupid videos for social media.
Of course, when her voice comes over the phone, she sounds pleading. “Please don’t be mad at me…”
He shoots me a sideways glance, and I shrug. Not like I have any fucking clue what this is about. He’s the one with the Vice-Captain title.
“Well, spit it out.”
We don’t need to see the Beta’s face to know the wince that will be there. “One hundred miniature rugby balls are sitting underneath my desk. Annnnnnnd you need to take them with you to sign and give out at Willow Falls Elementary.
“Before we left, I asked if there was anything we needed to bring to this event,” Finch grumbles.
We’re both tired, sore, and ready to eat a horse after this morning’s gym session.
And lucky us, we drew the duties for community outreach this week, which ordinarily is fine…
but we need to fuel up before we can even think about being wrestled by a gaggle of overeager five to eight-year-olds.
“Finch, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I thought I’d given them to you, but then I just walked back into my office now and saw them all sitting there bagged up.”
He checks the time on the dash, then pinches his brow. Already knowing the answer isn’t going to be anything other than you gotta haul ass. “What time do we have to be there? Precisely?”
Her squeak would be comical if we didn’t have to be in a rush to get to a whole ton of amped up schoolkids. “They’re expecting you in forty-five minutes.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Blowing out a quiet breath, he runs one hand back and forth through his sweaty hair until it sticks up on end.
We knew it was going to be a tight turnaround as it was to fit in showers, food, and getting across town.
“Okay. Here’s the plan. I’m almost at home, so I’ll swing back, and you’re gonna be there waiting for me on the loading dock with them. ”
“You’re the best. I owe you big time.”
“That’s ‘Finch, you don’t have to do social media for a month’ isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. I’ll pick on Renfro. Pushing it to six weeks before I gotta film some fresh stuff with you in it.”
“Deal. Get your ass on that loading dock.”
“Thank you, Finch Murphy, what a star you are.”
He stabs the end call button but keeps driving in the direction of his place.
“Sounds like a sweet deal to me.” I chuckle. “Put in a good word to get me off the roster of videos, too, would ya?”
Finch grins. “Nah, I like watching you squirm. You go all cartoon bug eyes whenever you gotta learn one of those dumb dances.”
“Like you can talk. You’re concentrating so hard, your tongue sticks out half the time.”
Reaching across the console, he thumps me in the shoulder. “Careful, or I’ll tell Daniels that you begged me to give you more time in front of the camera.”
That drags a curse out of me as I try to get him one back, straight to the nuts, and he has to fight to block me with one arm.
“I’ll drop you here. We don’t have time to go all the way to your place and back.
” With a flick of the blinker, we pull quickly onto his street.
Most of us on the team without packs or kids live fairly close to our training ground.
Willow Falls isn’t that big of a place, and management provides accommodation all located within a five-mile radius if we want to take advantage of it.
“Go shower. Make yourself useful and get something to eat, yeah?” Finch stops outside the front door to his unit.
He’s got himself his own place, being vice-captain and all.
“Got it.” I catch his keys as he tosses them, the engine still running as he checks his phone for any more last-minute instructions about this school visit we’ve been paired up to do today.
“For fuck’s sake. There were tickets for us to take to this thing and hand out as well. Daniels is alright, but I swear to god, Brennan needs new assistants.” Finch tosses his phone down on the now-empty front seat as I grab my gym bag from the back. “I’ll be as quick as possible.”
“Superhero Murphy. Here to save the day, on and off the field.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you’re showered and smelling like roses by the time I get back. And have my lunch ready, asshole.”
“On it.” I slam the door, and he pulls away, back in the direction we’ve just come from.
Slinging my bag over one shoulder, I let myself into Finch’s place.
I’ve spent enough time here that it’s more or less a second home.
When you don’t have one of those of your own, it’s something you don’t damn well take for granted.
Finch Murphy, and rugby, have been my family for all intents and purposes for a really long fucking time now.
I toss the keys on the kitchen counter and head straight for the guest bathroom. Inside my pocket, a relentless buzzing starts up. Our team’s group chat.
Usually, it’s something dumb one of the rookies has done. Or a new round of fines being dished out by Cap. But when I open it up, there’s a sight waiting for me that I wasn’t expecting at all.
Gus:
Stole your girl, Murph.
It’s a photo from last night, while we were all out playing pool. Gus has one arm draped around Wren’s shoulder, and they’re both laughing at something off-camera. On the other side is one of her friends she turned up with.
One glance… one single fucking glance… and something tightens deep in my stomach.
Gus:
Fellas, for those of you unable to join us for last night’s tournament of pool champions, did you know this is Finch’s sister?
Hottie alert. Now we know who got all the favorable genes in their family.
PS. I’m her favorite on the team. Suck it.
Finch might be driving, but he replies straight away.
Murphy:
No one fucking goes near her.
Any of you pricks touch my sister, you’ll wake up one morning not only missing both your balls, but your knot will be shredded, and your kneecaps will be busted, too.
I shake my head and let out a heavy exhale, dropping my bag on the tiled floor as I walk into the bathroom.
The others are asking for it. Immediately, the screen floods with hearts, kissy faces, and wedding ring emojis. They’re being dicks, purposely trying to rile Finch up with marriage proposals and professions of love.
I’m down on one knee right now.
How many carats would it take, Murphy?
We could be in-laws…
I’ll make you my best man, promise.
Someone sends a photoshopped meme of Murphy hulking out. Full green monster mode. Shirt being torn in two by giant fists. Head tipped back, teeth bared, roaring at the sky.
Assholes.
I’m scanning the names quickly, looking for one in particular, but don’t see Renfro jumping in there to join them with the shit stirring. Normally, he’d be first in line to give Finch hell, but the others well and truly make up for his absence.
Seeing the way they’re all fawning over a girl?
Especially one they can’t possibly think about getting close to?
Yeah, that’s complete bullshit. I don’t know why I do it, but my thumbs start typing.
I’m probably just feeling jittery about having to do a public event, which never gets any easier, but it’s all part of this sport.
I’m grateful to be able to play for a job. Which is what these fucking morons should be doing, too.
Me:
You’re all idiots. Let yourself get caught up in someone else, and you’re just asking for trouble.
Before I can swipe out of the chat, the replies are already coming in thick and fast.
Oh, that’s right. Forgot you’re the tin man with no heart.
Mr. Love Is A Lie.
Ice in his veins.
Emotions are a scam.
Atlas Palamo doesn’t do relationships, remember?
Just wait… one day it’ll grab him by the knot.
I don’t have time for any of their bullshit today, not when we’re on a time-crunch as it is, and I can’t be fucked trying to bash their heads together. The reality is, we’re pro athletes. That takes dedication. Focus. Keeping your eye on the ball.
Not all of us are here because we were born with a rugby ball in hand. The likes of Renfro only need to lace up his boots, and he’s been touched by some sort of gift of the game. A talent that can do anything on the field, and it’ll turn to gold.
Whereas someone like me? I’ve had to fucking grind.
I’ve had to earn my scholarships and opportunities in a highly competitive system.
I don’t have the luxury of falling back on raw ability.
Yeah, I love the game, but I’m only in it for as long as I can keep pushing to be better day in and day out.
My spot will go to the next guy as fast as a crusher tackle can blindside you.
Tossing my phone into my bag, I strip my gym shirt off and have barely bunched it up to throw that down with it, when the doorbell rings.
Shit… did I lock Finch out?
Jogging back out to the entranceway, the chime sounds again, sounding a little impatient.
“Yeah, Jesus. I’m coming,” I mutter to myself as I yank the door open.
My eyes drop to take in the sight of someone who is very much not Finch.
“Oh… shit. I’m sorry… I thought Finch said he’d be home.”
His sister stands on the doorstep with a container in her hands. Blue eyes widen as she takes in the unexpected sight of me opening her brother’s front door. From the way her plush, rosy lips part a little, she doesn’t exactly look happy to see me.
I don’t get one of her smiles.
Wren swallows. “Why are you here?” Her gaze stays tipped up to my face, but I don’t miss the little waver in her focus.
“Finch is out. Why are you here?” I fold my arms strategically across my chest, doing my best to cover a particular spot on my ribs. She doesn’t need to go catching sight of that.
Fuck my life. Why does this keep happening, that I can’t shake her? And even though I’m standing only a foot away, sweaty after a gym session, without a shirt, the little Omega still doesn’t scent me.
Even though her sweetness of jasmine blossom, caramel, and a perfectly ripe peach is absolutely screaming at me. This girl smells like sunshine and warm summer afternoons, and I have to fucking grind my teeth to will my body not to react to her.
Wren blinks at me a couple of times before looking down at the offering she’s holding onto a little apologetically.
“I came to drop these off.” Her wide eyes ping back up to mine, making it real fucking obvious she’s trying not to look at my bare chest. “I made some protein bars… don’t go all pro player freak-out on me, either.
They’re healthy. Team nutritionist-approved ones.
I only used natural sugars. Peanut butter, dates, and almonds.
” Her words are a little breathy as the explanation all rushes out.
I can smell them. The rich, nutty flavor swirls around us, mixing with the way this girl forever smells like being in the middle of an orchard dripping with perfectly ripe fruit. Everything blends perfectly with her scent; it always does.
She hands me the bars, and I can’t help but notice what she’s wearing.
Leggings and a jacket, running shoes. As I lift the box from her hands, it gives me a second to shoot a quick look back up at her face.
Noting, as always, how her eyes shimmer like the bluest of skies.
Today, there’s a slight flush on her cheeks from the cold.
“You walked here?” The words grind out of me a little harsher than I intend them to.
And that’s when it happens. Wren’s lips curve, her face brightens, and she smiles.
This girl smiles at me, not as openly as her laughter in that photo with Gus. Not in the way I’ve seen her do with countless others. But this time, that look is 100 percent directed at me, and my chest damn near seizes.
“Of course. It’s not far at all. Oh, but wait. You know that already.” She tilts her head to one side and arches an eyebrow as if she’s challenging me. “Besides, I needed to get out for some exercise.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. Alone,” she scoffs. “I’m capable, you know.”
I really don’t know what to say. Blinking at her, it’s as if a miracle has appeared on the doorstep, giving me smiles and delivering food. As if that’s the most natural thing in the world, and yet, I can’t invite her in. Not when it’s just the two of us. Not without Finch here.
Wren’s expression falters a little in the face of my silence. “Hoookay. Well, I’m gonna go.” Hiking her thumb over a shoulder. “See ya round.”
And like every other time since our first meeting, I’m left watching her leave. Dumbstruck. Awestruck. Whatever fucking label you want to put on it, slap it on my forehead.
Just as she reaches the end of the driveway, she peeks a look back and gives me a tiny, hesitant wave, before turning. Then she’s gone, leaving me standing in the cold, filled with that same old sensation of turmoil. Like every occasion when we cross paths, I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
And yet, she looks right through me. She’s oblivious to this thing clawing away inside my chest, demanding I go after her. No matter that my Alpha nature knew the tiny Omega with bright blue eyes and silky blond hair was the most perfect soul connection to exist from the moment we first met.
Wren Murphy doesn’t recognize mine, even though every single cell in my body recognizes hers.
So what do I do? I do what I do best, and I lock it the fuck down and throw the key in the deepest part of the ocean.
That’s what I fucking do.
Five years I’ve known.
I’ve intimately known her scent—that intoxicating drug of peach and jasmine—and I’ve had to live with the knowledge kept to myself.
Wren is more than my best friend’s little sister.
She’s my scent match.