Chapter 25
25
DASH
We’re all sore and exhausted when we get home.
Jasper’s moving in hyper speed to get our luggage in from the car and up to our rooms before Briar arrives while Ronan disappears to shower.
My stomach still hasn’t settled from the flight, so I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab some water.
Landon’s following me, but I don’t have the energy to start a conversation right now.
When he doesn’t speak, either, I assume we’re on the same page.
Only as soon as I start filling up a glass, his sharp tone cuts through the kitchen.
“What are your plans with the omega?”
“Her name is Briar, Landon.”
“Fine. What are you doing with her here tonight?”
I turn off the tap and face him, my back pressing against the countertop.
Landon watches stiffly, his lean off-centre as he takes as much weight off his right knee as possible.
He played fine the last three games and was good enough to escape the scathing judgment of fans online and the press up in their boxes, but still, he wasn’t at his peak.
His passes were loose, backcheck slow.
It was so unlike him that I spent every second I wasn’t defending the net watching him.
“We’re just hanging out. Ronan and Jasper missed her.”
“They missed her? Not you?”
Something about the question makes me snap.
“Didn’t you? Or are you still pretending that you don’t care?”
“I don’t care about her, but I do care about my pack. I’m trying to find out the plans for the night so I know if I need to stay and keep an eye on all of you.”
“We don’t need you to watch us, Landon. You’re not our father, and we’re not children. Briar isn’t a danger to anyone, let alone us,” I argue, releasing a sigh that gives away how tired I am.
“You weren’t clever joining us for dinner the other night as if you weren’t only there to make sure we didn’t what, mark her?”
His lip curls slightly, anger mixing with something deeper, painful.
“You’ve all started trusting her too easily.”
“She hasn’t given us any reason not to trust her. I know why you feel differently, and I respect you and your feelings, Lan, but you being such a hard-ass isn’t helping. I’ve taken all you’ve said to us over the years into consideration, and it’s why I’ve moved slower than Ronan and Jasper, but there’s no stopping them. They’re going to bond her someday, and if you want this pack to stick together, you need to stop using your distrust in Briar to drive a bigger wedge between us. What do you think will happen when she goes into heat? We’ve been lucky as it is that she hasn’t already.”
Landon’s shoulder droops, a soul-deep exhale escaping him.
The deep blue beneath his eyes is almost as concerning as the tweak of pain that travels across his expression when he leans forward with his hands on the island.
“You’re not pulled to her?” he asks, his voice weak.
I reply carefully. “She smells really, really good to me, but something is missing.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure,” I lie, leaving out Jasper’s theory.
It’ll do no good to bring it up without any proof.
“Just go up to bed, Lan. Take some melatonin and try to sleep. Stay out of the gym, or I’ll put a lock on the door.”
He lets his head fall between his arms. “If you need me . . .”
“I’ll get you,” I finish for him.
“But we won’t. She’s an omega, not a villain in a superhero movie.”
“She could be pretty close.”
“How’s your knee?”
The question flops between us, remaining unanswered as he straightens out and starts to leave like I knew he would.
I snort before draining the rest of my water and ditching the cup in the sink.
It’s better Landon has this conversation with me than any of the others.
Ronan would have told him to suck it the hell up and pull his head from his ass, and Jasper would have tried reasoning with him before inevitably giving up when Landon refused to give an inch.
With a yawn, I leave the kitchen.
It’s silent in the house, everyone having abandoned me to do their own thing.
Jasper should be down soon, and I need to change before I’m saying hi to Briar in sweatpants with a hole in the knee and a shirt I cropped as a joke a couple of years ago.
They’re the only clothes I had with me in my travel bag, and I couldn’t stand wearing my suit for another minute once we got on the plane to come home.
I’m the only one in the pack who changed, but I know Ronan would have if he hadn’t been trapped in the window seat beside Landon.
I’m nearly to the stairs when there’s a knock on the front door.
It’s gentle, almost like the person doing the knocking isn’t sure if they want anyone to answer it.
They knock again, a bit stronger this time, and I unlock the deadbolt before tugging the door open.
A set of cautious blue eyes stare up at me as Briar keeps her hand in the air, her fingers curled into a fist.
Guess ratty sweatpants and a cropped shirt it is.
“Hi,” she squeaks, arm falling.
I’m suddenly almost self-conscious of what I’m wearing and how beat down I know I look.
Briar’s far more done up than I am, wearing a black, knee-length skater skirt, a cropped blue top, and a pair of biker boots with chunky heels that I know Ronan would blow in his pants if he saw.
The last time she was here, she wore a dress, and now I’m having trouble pinpointing what exactly her style is.
In all honesty, it’s almost fitting, considering I haven’t been able to figure her out, either.
I haven’t tried.
“Hey. Come in.”
She slips past me and starts to toe off her boots when I stop her with a hand on her arm.
It’s bare and warm, silky beneath my fingertips.
I know I should retreat when she drops her eyes to stare at where we touch, but I linger, intrigued by the tease of a sizzle shooting up my arm.
“You should leave them on to show Ronan. He’ll lose his mind,” I say, my stomach suddenly settled.
“Really?”
My thumb swipes a hot line across her bicep, and I focus on the lift of the thin hairs there more than the way mine do the same.
“Motorbikes, leather, and boots are his favourite things. Such a typical bad boy.”
“Don’t forget the scowl,” she teases.
“Ah, yeah. He’s perfected that by now.”
“Speaking of Ronan, where is he? I’m not early, am I?” she asks, nervously eyeing the living room behind us.
“No. We got home a few minutes ago, but if we’re being totally open right now, we’re all exhausted. Road trips are always more tiring than usual.”
She nods, twisting her mouth as her stare slips back to me.
“If someone had told me, I would have made dinner or something. Are you hungry?”
“You don’t have to cook for us. We usually just order in on nights like this.”
“That was before you had an omega who was offering to make you something to eat,” she says before her eyes flare wide.
“I mean, not like I’m the pack’s omega or anything. What I meant is that I’m an omega, and I’m here offering to make something.”
I crack a slight smile.
“I knew what you meant.”
“So, can I?”
“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
She laughs softly.
“No. I’m not.”
“Then the kitchen is this way.”
Removing my hand from her arm is like trying to peel apart two pieces of paper that have been glued together.
It takes a hard yank that no doubt makes me look incredibly odd before I can drop it back to my side and lead her through the house.
My head starts throbbing with a hunger headache again while my stomach does summersaults with nausea.
Airplane sickness is a real thing despite what the guys on the team say, and it’s a constant reminder that I may have chosen the wrong profession.
If I didn’t love hockey so damn much, I would have chosen something that wouldn’t involve going thirty thousand feet in the air every few days.
I swallow past the bile creeping up my throat and focus on not collapsing onto the floor.
“I’m not sure what we have to cook with. We always let the fridge go empty before a road trip,” I warn Briar, keeping my eyes forward.
“I can figure something out.”
“Alright,” I mutter.
The lights are still on in the kitchen when we enter.
I immediately collapse on the closest bar stool at the island while palming my forehead.
“Are you okay?” I hear, Briar’s voice twinkling in my ears.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I grind my teeth to try and curb the wave of nausea.
Inhaling, I pick up the fresh scent of lemon with the slightest note of sweetness.
I can’t help but take in another deep pull of it before releasing the pressure I’m applying to my forehead.
The gentle yet steady press of her hand between my shoulder blades halts the rolling in my stomach.
She slowly starts massaging my tight muscles.
“Does it help when I do this?”
“Yes.” It’s a throaty noise more than it is a verbal reply.
“I’ll keep doing it, then.”
“Why?” I blurt out.
Her hand stalls for half a second before continuing its movements.
“Why what?”
“You don’t owe me anything. We’re not mates.”
“How can you know that already, Dash? We’ve only known one another for a month. Less than that, really.”
Instead of nausea, it’s unease that creeps into my gut.
“It should have been immediate. I would have recognized you, and you would have recognized me. That’s how it works.”
“According to who? My omega loves how you smell, even if your scent is a little more subtle than the others, and I feel . . . comfortable with you. How do we know that beta and omega bonds don’t take longer to snap into place than alpha and omega ones do?” she asks.
In the back of my mind, I know she’s right.
Everything she’s saying makes sense.
Especially when I take the break in conversation to realize that my nausea hasn’t just eased; it’s retreated completely with her closeness.
Not only that, but my headache is also gone.
I open my eyes and blink, taking in the empty kitchen before turning my head to glance at her.
Her beauty is almost startling.
Up close, her freckles are more distinguishable, and the dip of her full upper lip is a defined V rather than a soft U.
Black makeup clings to her lashes, framing her eyes and contrasting the pale blue within them.
When I don’t reply to her, she breathes in a long exhale and, with her voice steady, adds, “I know you and Landon don’t trust me, and I’m really trying not to take that personally. What happened with him in the past is his business, and I can appreciate your loyalty. I guess I just want to reassure you that I’m not here to try and further divide your pack. I’m the outsider here, so I’m just trying to see where I could potentially fit in. Being here with all of you and offering to take care of you, even if just to cook a simple meal, is my way of figuring that out.”
Guilt is a sharp and unforgiving emotion, and when it strikes, you oftentimes will bleed.
Right now, I’m drowning in it, iron tangy on my tongue.
“We eat a lot,” I say, slowly extending a branch for her to take.
She doesn’t ignore it.
“So do my dads.”
“Jas keeps the pantry stocked pretty good regardless of how much we’re planning on being home because we’re snackers. If there’s nothing in the fridge, I’d check there next.”
“I’ll do that, then. Thank you,” she says, eyes brightening.
“Am I good to stay here? I’m still recovering from the flight, and sitting here helps.”
Yeah, sitting here with her nearby.
That’s a good sign. Maybe she’s right after all and this is the way things are supposed to be.
If not, at least we can be sure that we could get along.
I’ll take the small win.