Chapter 3
3
DASH
Another puck sails into my pads before I shake myself out of the net and pass it off to the ref.
My pixelated team celebrates on the flat screen in front of me with slaps to the back of my player’s helmet as the commentators praise the easy save.
My palms sweat around the controller.
I grip it tighter, leaning forward on the couch.
I’ve been playing this game for hours while the rest of the pack does their own thing.
It’s the norm for us as of late.
I pass my thumbs over the controller and signal to the refs that I’m ready to continue.
The other players on my team are made up of random online users like me.
Some are good, but the majority of them aren’t ready for the level I like to play on.
I’m not sure if that’s more embarrassing for them for still trying or for me because I’ve spent so much time getting this good.
My mom loves to say that I play video games so often she’s shocked my brain hasn’t leaked out of my ears.
Somehow, she’s still the most loving beta out there.
Her sass is a love language that I’ve become a pro at distinguishing from real annoyance.
“I could have called for a review on that save,” one of the opposing members says, his voice a nasally drawl in my ears leaking from my headset.
I have no idea who he is behind the username he chose, but he sounds like a sore loser.
“Why didn’t you, then?” I ask, tracking the tiny puck on the screen as it moves between players.
“Not worth it.”
I huff a laugh.
“Yeah, okay.”
“You got something to say?” he snips, sending his player plowing in my direction.
He can’t see my smirk, but I make sure he can hear it in my voice.
“Nah. Not worth it.”
In the span of half a second, he’s got his player winding back for a slap shot in front of my net.
His breathing grows in volume, so loud I can hear it clearly through my clunky over-ears as I track the movements of his player.
I’m ready when he lets the puck fly.
One jab of my finger on the controller has it in my goalie’s glove.
“Fuck off, man!”
“There’s no shame in turning on aim assist,” I coo, stretching my legs out in front of me.
The couch in my bedroom is extreme and big enough for the entire pack to sit on, which they never do.
I’d hoped that by having the space, I’d be able to convince them all to take a night off and hang out, but nights like that have been far and few between, especially recently.
If we’re not all at practice, Landon is at the rink putting in extra time, and Ronan’s in the gym working himself to death.
Jasper likes to pretend he’s not as affected by our withering pack relationship by spending his spare time pruning the massive green bush he keeps in his room.
I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to be an inside plant, but I’m not going to be the one who tells him that.
“Aim assist is for pussies!” the guy hisses.
“Has anyone ever told you that using pussy in a derogatory way is incredibly sexist?”
“Oh, fuck all the way off.”
“Therapy is always an option, sweetie. Losing in a video game shouldn’t affect you so deeply.”
“Coming from the guy that probably lives in his mom’s basement.”
“Not even close.”
“Whatever! I’m blocking you. You’re not good enough to play with me.”
“See ya, Breadlover69,” I sing.
With a roll of my eyes, I cross my ankles before exiting out of the game and pulling my headphones to drape around my neck.
It’s too easy to get a rise out of some people, especially guys like that.
The bright light from the flat screen burns into my retinas, drawing a sigh from deep in my chest. I set the controller on my stomach and rest my head back against the couch.
The hard pulse of music coming from the room beneath mine grows in volume, the lyrics becoming clearer and clearer.
It’s impossible not to smile when you know that the hard-as-granite Ronan has an unhealthy obsession with New Medicine and Sleep Token.
The song he chose to start his workout with is one of the harder songs in his playlist, but it isn’t anything close to what Landon forces us to listen to when he joins us in the gym.
I’ve already worked out today, but hey, I’m bored.
After getting changed into some loose shorts and a tee, I head to the basement and join the big bad alpha in the gym.
His grunts are audible over the music as I stroll to where his phone lies on the bench press and turn the wireless speakers down a bit.
“You’re going to blow your eardrums one of these days,” I tell him.
Dark eyes pierce into my light blue ones from across the gym.
Ronan keeps his expression blank, emotions completely at his control.
The sweat already beading on his forehead and across the wide, muscled expanse of his chest is a sign of just how hard he’s pushing himself.
Both of his hands are wrapped around the bar above him.
He doesn’t let my presence take away from his concentration.
Calm and steady, he pulls himself up until his bent knees hover above the black mats and his chin touches the bar.
I step up onto the treadmill and watch him while choosing the options I want for tonight.
I’ll be dead for practice tomorrow if I do too much.
The only reason Ronan and Landon can push themselves as hard as they do and not face repercussions is because they’re alphas.
They wouldn’t have such luck if they were betas like me.
“Is there a reason why you’re spending another night in the gym?” I ask.
The treadmill kicks into gear beneath my feet, and I start walking.
Without spending any time stretching, a fast walk is all I’m planning on doing.
Ronan grunts low and continues his pull-ups.
The pace he’s keeping is a bit concerning.
Every confident rise of his body has his biceps bulging so fiercely the veins threaten to pop right out of his skin.
His jaw is tight enough to crack in two.
“Can’t sleep.”
“What’s keeping you up?”
Instead of answering, he drops to his feet and abandons the bar, thumping his way over to the weight bench.
His silence isn’t surprising in the slightest, but it is a bit frustrating.
Especially when all I want is to help.
“I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong,” I add.
He busies himself with overloading the weight bar, giving me his back.
The black ink on his shoulder matches the ink on mine.
It’s a reassuring sight with how tense we’ve all been recently.
“I never asked for your help, Dash,” he bites out.
Now lying on the bench, he spreads his legs and presses his heels firmly to the mats.
There’s at least two hundred and fifty pounds on that bar already, and without a spotter, he’s risking crushing his entire upper half.
“Christ, Ro. We’re pack, in case you forgot. Ask me to spot you next time,” I scold before turning off the treadmill and jogging toward him.
“You’re no good to anyone, including the team, if you’ve got a shattered trachea.”
Stepping up behind him, I hover my hands beneath the bar with every rise and fall, tracking the movements.
Fifteen reps later and he doesn’t show any sign of stopping.
“Talk to me, Ronan.”
“It’s too quiet,” he forces out.
“Too quiet in what way?”
His eyes glue themselves to the ceiling.
“Nobody talks.”
“You’ve never talked much.”
“There are four of us.”
I tap the bar when he lowers it again, this time watching as his arms shake on the push up.
“I know. When was the last time everyone was home all at once?”
“Landon prefers to be anywhere but here.”
“He’s under a lot of pressure.”
His scoff is deep and full of resentment that I’ve known has been inside of him, growing and growing with every passing day.
“We all are. But you and me? We’re here.”
I nod, understanding where he’s coming from.
“Do you think calling a pack meeting would help? Maybe we could bring it up?—”
“No. I’m not planning any fucking meeting. If Landon and Jasper don’t want to be here, then they can keep pissing off,” he snaps, slamming the bar into its holder.
When he shoves into a sitting position, I round the bench, standing in front of him.
My chest caves in at the frustration burning in his eyes.
“We both know why Jasper’s been avoiding us. He’s started locking his bedroom door,” I murmur.
“If he’s wanting to avoid Landon, he doesn’t need to bother locking himself away.”
“I think it’s easier for him to just . . . be where we’re not. If you’re feeling the emptiness this badly, I don’t want to imagine how fiercely he’s feeling it. You know how he is, Ro.”
“Landon doesn’t get to make a decision that important on his own,” he grunts, swiping a hand over his sweaty forehead.
Turning, he sits on the edge of the bench and slouches over his knees.
I take a seat beside him and kick off my sneakers, hating how restricting they are.
“He’s the pack leader. You know how it works. We might not have to let him make all the decisions, but if he doesn’t want an omega, bringing one into the fold will only make things worse between us.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Don’t we? Do you think forcing his hand will do us any good? Yeah, Jasper might be happy. So will you and me. But that fracture you’re feeling is only going to grow deeper if we push Landon too far,” I explain.
We might not share a pack bond yet, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t unofficially bonded in every other possible way.
The only thing we’re missing is an omega and the mental bond we’d be able to share if we were to mark her as ours.
Pack bonds don’t work alpha to alpha.
They’re created the moment a pack alpha marks an omega, and then with every bite that follows, the bond spreads between each member.
If you never find an omega, you never have a pack bond.
Simple as that.
Jasper believes all our problems will cease to exist the moment we awaken that bond, and while I do believe it would be life-changing, I also worry that at the rate we’re going, the gap will be too wide to close with anything.
Even an omega of our own.
Ronan abruptly stands and stares down at me, blank-faced but not closed off.
Not completely. The pain in his eyes has me pushing off the bench and crowding him, rubbing my arm against his.
His deep coffee scent overshadows the sweet notes of caramel that sometimes appear when he’s happy.
Tonight, he’s all broody alpha, and it has me wanting to offer as much comfort as I can.
It’s not me he needs, though.
Somewhere out there is a soft-as-cotton omega wanting everything that we have to offer.
I can only hope that we find her sooner than later.
“We’ll figure it all out, Ro,” I swear.
His silence is answer enough.
Don’t make promises you can’t keep.