Chapter 69
WREN
Anew week marks another step forward for us, and an evolution of our developing routine in living life together as a pack.
The guys spend the first part of the week getting through recovery, team meetings, and prioritizing time to sleep.
They have to take care of themselves in the short window of time before they throw their bodies back into the physicality of training.
With Connor and Atlas being occupied by their team commitments, it’s given me much-needed time for study.
I’m more or less caught up on the classes I missed while going through my heat, and thankfully, I only had to fill out a simple form with my scholarship office.
I was expecting some kind of awkward face-to-face interview requiring all the details to be shared of why I was absent for five days, impaled repeatedly by three knots…
but fortunately, it was more tick-box exercise and less withering humiliation.
And the passing of another week presents me with a renewed opportunity to enter into a silly battle of temptation.
One that I’ve been waging against myself.
As my phone stares at me from the kitchen island while I make breakfast, I’m faced with another dilemma of whether to give in and scratch that itch or leave it alone.
It doesn’t matter that it’s been a couple of weeks since my heat, I’m still resisting every possessive Omega urge to scroll through the comments on Connor’s Instagram post. The one I can’t stop thinking about.
The one with me in it. I foolishly took a peek one time and saw way too many all-caps rants, too many crying emojis, and far too much sobbing while making public declarations of love.
Mostly, the general mood seemed to be how upset a group of these fans are that they didn’t know he was seeing anyone.
Even more strange is the total delusion coming in hot with a concerning number of them.
They seemed to be somehow devastated that their chances of having a shot with him have now been torpedoed.
Blegh. It’s ultra weird and creepy.
Today, I’m fortified by sugar, coffee, and the subtle beard burn lingering on the inside of my thighs from Connor’s attentiveness this morning.
Instead of tripping and ending up nosing through his social media, I tap through to Wagging Tails to check for any new comments or messages.
One of my favorite things about helping with running the account is that it gives me every excuse to keep watching back through the footage taken during the photo shoot day with the dogs.
I mean, any excuse to rewatch the footage is good enough for me.
I scroll through the video clips posted by the Wolves team account to see how the general public has responded to the campaign. The spike in inquiries and calls to Linda about everything from adoption to volunteering to donations has been phenomenal. It makes me so giddy to know we pulled it off.
A new video posted first thing this morning is focused on Connor, then pans to Atlas.
As it does, I spot Theo and realize this part of the interview was the segment that I didn’t actually get to hear.
Largely because I was too busy running around in the background coordinating with the dogs and Linda, and secretly due to my efforts to not simply combust on the spot at the sight of all three of them being terribly cute and distracting with dogs climbing all over them.
I’m absently scooping spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into my mouth as the questions pop up on the short video clip. The interviewer offscreen asks about who they’re most excited to have watching them play come game day.
Connor’s trademark rascal grin was made to be on-camera and in the spotlight.
He looks more strikingly handsome than ever, with that lilting brogue so easy on the ear.
I drag the spoon over my tongue and hold it in my mouth while listening, transfixed, to him speaking about his family back in Scotland, about Renfro pack life, and their fervent support of his games.
It leads him to explain just how big a support network they are during the international season.
Whenever he represents Scotland, they always make a point of coming to games when they can.
It sends butterflies flapping in my stomach at the thought of meeting his parents and brothers at a game.
Am I ready for that? Funnily enough, I truly think I am, even if the concept of meeting his family is a little overwhelming.
Theo deflects the question to his players, giving a little smile and talking more to the two dogs at his side than the camera.
He says something that tugs on my heartstrings and our bond we now share.
I’ve never pried about his family—he doesn’t mention them—but he volunteers a tiny glimpse into his life that makes it clear just how much we do have in common with each other, in a unique way.
He shrugs and the space between his brows furrows as he explains he used to just be grateful for the fans and his teammates.
He never knew his dad, and his mom has been more or less absent since she started a new life with a new pack when he was in his teens.
My heart squeezes thinking how many years he played without ever having someone special watching him. I wish there was a way to rewind time and give that gift to him.
I’m holding my breath when the interviewer directs the question to Atlas.
The muscle in the side of his jaw pulses as he reveals a similar story to Theo.
He’s never had anyone to watch him play either.
Without missing a beat, he explains that his dad would be there for every game if he could.
However, by the time he started playing professionally, his dad had already moved back to the islands and was too unwell to travel from Samoa.
Heat pricks the backs of my eyes.
I want to make it better somehow, and I don’t know how to accomplish that.
Although my time to dwell on my Alphas and how I can take care of them is cut short. My phone chimes with an incoming text.
Unknown Number:
Wren, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve been doing for Wagging Tails.
Thanks to your initiative, we realized one of the dogs would be a perfect fit for our home. Your care and attention put into shining a light on their characters and personalities helped me get my husband to come around to finally agree!
Say hello to the newest member of our household.
An image comes through and it shows a face I immediately recognize. Patricia Braun, looking elegant even while relaxing casually at home. Her glowing red hair catches the morning sunlight while cuddling a big-smiling pittie-cross seated on her front porch.
I dump my empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher, save her contact details, then reply with a dorky grin on my face.
Me:
I couldn’t be happier to hear it! Gotta admit, they really make my part of the process easy, though. All credit to their big personalities and hearts!
Patricia:
We’re going to help make this part of the dog shelter work a feature in the local Willow Falls news. I can’t wait to gush over how much you’ve helped us with our own adoption.
For the longest time, my father has always admired the work of this dog shelter. He hounded me for a long time to adopt my own. Now here we are.
Me:
I’m already crying happy adopt-aversary tears on your behalf!
Patricia:
My husband had been adamant we didn’t “need” another dog for years. Let me tell you, this man was waiting for me to get home from work with the information pulled up on his phone on how we could initiate our adoption application immediately.
All thanks to you.
Bravo, Wren Murphy!
I might be standing in the kitchen with bed hair and haven’t yet found the energy to change out of my pajamas, but I’m immensely proud of what I’ve done.
After typing a quick thank you and insisting on being sent as many dog photos as humanly possible, I float my way in the direction of the bathroom.
Even after feeling more than a little worn out after going through my first heat, and working nights after dinner at the kitchen island side-by-side with Theo to catch up on course material I’ve missed, hearing that my goofy little photo shoot has made such an impact already lifts me.
The satisfaction of knowing I’ve done something good and have been making a difference with my work for the dog shelter puts a little bounce in my step.
Now, I’ve just got to hope that feeling can carry me through four hours of lectures on campus today… all while wrapped in the chunkiest scarf I can find.
Thank god a springlike chill is still hanging in the air and we haven’t migrated into sundress season. I can remain bundled up like a marshmallow and not a single person on campus will bat an eye.
As of now, I need to make sure that no one sees my neck.
I’m tired, wired, and humming with nerves while unlocking the front door.
Call me an Omega-sized multipack of overstimulation.
As I slip my shoes off at the front door, then lean back against the wooden frame, I puff out a long and loud exhale of relief.
The freedom I’ve been given by having my own car, a pack who continually check on me all day with a steady stream of texts, the sense of being able to come home to a perfect mixture of scents, it all hits me with a rush of emotion thickening in my throat.
While the house is currently empty, it overflows with a soothing wash of their presence.