Chapter Twenty-Eight
Theo
It’s been four days since the hit that took me out of the game, and three since the bruising started to bloom beneath the skin. Whatever damage was done—trapped nerve, torn muscle, bruised bone—Emery’s the only one I trust to figure it out, and I’m already waiting in the PT room when she walks in.
It’s the first time I’ve been so close to her since… well, everything.
And if I didn’t already know she’d been claimed, then I’d know now.
Before she even opens her mouth, before she even looks at me, her scent tells me everything. It’s richer, the edge of wildness to it replaced by the unmistakable signature of an alpha’s bite, but it’s not just Beau. There’s… something else underneath. Something more.
I inhale once, then again, subtly as I can. And it’s faint, but it’s definitely there.
Connor.
There’s something about the way she moves now, softer at the edges, glow in her cheeks and that satisfied ease in her body—like she’s finally been seen—and it does something to me I wasn’t ready for.
“Hey,” she says, smiling when she sees me and tucking one of her dark curls behind her ear as she shuts the door. “You beat me here.”
“Didn’t want to be late,” I shrug, trying not to wince as I rotate my shoulder. “Figured if I sat too long, I’d lock up entirely.”
She sets her clipboard down and walks toward me, her voice dropping into that soft, clinical tone she uses when she’s focusing.
“Let me take a look.”
The second she’s close, it hits me harder: their scent. Combined.
My instincts stir, but I hold still as Emery’s fingers move with practiced ease, tugging my hoodie up and off. Her hands are warm against my skin as she gently presses into the muscle along my neck and shoulder, and I hiss through my teeth.
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
“Don’t be. That means you found it.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and the look there is... complicated.
We don’t talk about what’s hovering between us. We never have. She’s all business as she walks around me, checking range of motion and making little humming noises under her breath, but I’m not just watching her hands: I’m watching her.
The way her cheeks flush when she catches me looking.
The way her scent spikes just enough to let me know she’s thinking about something she shouldn’t.
“You’re quiet today,” she says eventually, voice low. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it.
“You, ah… You heard, huh?”
She moves in front of me, fingers still ghosting over my chest, slower now.
“It wasn’t meant to happen so fast,” she says softly. “With Beau.”
Her lips are a little swollen, and I can see it: the faint edges of his claim mark tucked just beneath the collar of her shirt.
“You smell like both of them,” I say quietly.
She swallows thickly.
“I know.”
“You… didn’t mean to trigger him,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t. But... maybe I didn’t not want it either.”
The statement is painfully honest.
For a moment, neither of us moves. Emery’s hands rest lightly against my chest, though her eyes don’t quite meet mine, fixed somewhere near my collarbone instead, like she’s afraid of what she might see if she looks up.
“It makes sense,” I say finally, my voice steadier than I feel. “He was already on edge. Injured and pushing himself. Add… everything else, and—”
“And I’m an omega in close quarters with a pack of alphas,” she finishes quietly. “Yeah. I know.”
There’s no defensiveness in it. It’s reality, laid bare.
She lets out a long breath, and then her fingers move again, professional instincts kicking back in as she continues to check my range of motion, gentle but thorough. I follow her lead, lifting my arm and rolling my shoulder carefully, watching her expression tighten when I wince.
“Still tender,” she murmurs.
“I’ll live,” I say. “I always do.”
She gives me a look at that—one that says she knows that answer, and doesn’t love it.
There’s something blooming here. It’s not the sharp pull I feel when Beau’s in the room, or the reckless heat Connor carries like a second skin. This is… different. It’s the kind of closeness that sneaks up on you, and for half a second, I wonder what it would be like to lean in.
To close the small, charged space between us.
To see if that softness would sharpen into something else.
The door slams open, and my eyes widen.
“—Shit. Sorry.”
Connor barrels in like he always does; momentum first, apology second. He stops short when he clocks the scene: me on the table, Emery mid-assessment, the air thick with things unsaid.
“Am I… interrupting something?”
His tone might be light, but his eyes are anything but.
“No,” Emery says immediately, stepping back and reaching for her clipboard. “I was just finishing up, actually.”
Connor hums, unconvinced, but lets it go.
He grins at me instead.
“Was gonna head over to Beau’s later. Game’s on.” Something flickers in his expression as he tilts his head thoughtfully. “Fancy joining us?”
Emery’s scribbling down notes, and I spot the way her writing falters.
She clearly wasn’t expecting Connor to ask me that, but she recovers quickly, and I try to ignore it, returning my attention to my teammate.
“Erm. Yeah,” I say after a beat. “Sure. I’m in.”
“Cool.” Connor’s smirk widens. “Thought so.”
He gives Emery a nod that’s almost respectful, then backs out the way he came in, leaving the door swinging shut behind him.
The room settles again, and Emery exhales, her shoulders dropping.
“Okay,” she says, refocusing. “I’m going to draft you a rehab plan. Nothing dramatic, but I don’t love what I’m seeing.”
I already know what’s coming. “Bench?”
“At least one game.” She hesitates. “Maybe two.”
Disappointment curls in my gut.
“I get it,” I sigh. “I’d rather miss one game than the rest of the season.”
Her mouth softens at that. “Exactly.”
She finishes up quickly after that, professionalism snapping back into place. When I hop off the table and tug my hoodie back on, she hands me my notes.
“I’ll send the exercises through later,” she adds. “Keep me updated, and let me know if anything feels worse.”
“I will.”
I head for the door, then pause.
“Guess I’ll… see you later.”
“At the house,” she says, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
The words shouldn’t feel loaded, but they do, and I step out into the hallway with the faint sense that something’s shifting around us.