10. Kel
The hot water beats down on my shoulders. Thick steam fills the massive glass shower enclosure while three days of sweat, cheap silicone lube, and grime circle the stainless steel drain at my feet.
The high-end body wash smells like cedar and mint. Scrubbing my skin turns it red. Washing away the lingering scent of sweet lavender and honeysuckle is a frustrating chore. Aching from the marathon session on that bare mattress, my muscles seize up with the adrenaline gone.
I shut the water off and grab a thick white towel from the heated rack to dry off. I pull on loose gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt.
Walking barefoot out of my bathroom, I head down the wide hallway of our shared penthouse. The soles of my feet stick to the expensive dark hardwood. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows line the entire west wall, putting the glittering city skyline on full display.
The view costs a fortune, and the leather furniture arranged in the center of the room costs even more. Right now, the pristine luxury of our apartment makes my skin crawl. The cold marble and stainless steel appliances look like a showroom instead of a real home.
The smooth wood walls, the cool draft coming through the cracks, and the dusty floorboards sound far better. More than anything, my chest aches for the Omega we left behind in that fading yellow house.
I walk into the kitchen. Simon sits on the edge of the marble island, wearing dark joggers and a white t-shirt. His wet copper hair sticks up in every direction. He bounces a neon green tennis ball off the floor. The rubber hits the hardwood with an annoying thud.
Catch, drop, catch.
His knee bounces in a blur of nervous energy. He stays in constant motion.
Wally sits at the dining table in basketball shorts and a tight gray t-shirt.
He holds a black pen between his thick fingers, staring at the empty yellow page of a legal notepad.
His dark hair remains damp from his shower.
The silence in the sprawling penthouse amplifies the distance between us and Vayda.
I lean my hip against the edge of the granite counter. "The usual chest-beating routine guarantees a disaster. We try to claim her territory and she runs for good."
Simon catches the tennis ball and holds it tight in his fist, stilling his bouncing knee. His green eyes are bloodshot from sleep deprivation. "She protects that guy with her life. Threatening him is a massive mistake."
Wally shifts his gaze from the notepad to my face and sets the pen down on the table. "We skip the ultimatums. We accept the setup and take them both."
I cross my arms over my chest. "Works for me. He's her mate, and he needs around-the-clock care. His brain injury removes any threat of a turf war. I just want to make sure they both stay safe."
Simon hops off the marble island, tossing the tennis ball onto the counter to walk into the living room. "If we form a pack with her, we form a pack with him, too."
"We just need to slide into her routine without triggering her panic." I look back at the dining table. "Show her we offer backup to carry the weight."
Simon rubs the back of his neck with a grim expression. "Our schedule is a total nightmare right now. Morning skates, video sessions, the away trip to Heathstead on Tuesday. The playoffs start in three weeks. Camping out at her house every hour of the day is impossible."
The reality of our careers hits like a crosscheck to the ribs. Hockey dictated my diet, sleep schedule, and every relationship I attempted since I learned to walk. Thinking about lacing up my skates and getting on a plane while Vayda struggles alone makes my stomach twist.
Simon looks between me and Wally. "I'll retire tomorrow. I'll tear up my contract right now to stay here and take care of them."
The thought brings a wave of relief. Walking away from the ice to focus on our new mate feels like the most natural decision.
Wally shakes his head. "Quitting mid-season abandons the team. The rest of the roster deserves a shot at the Alpha Cup."
He sets his pen down and looks at me, then at Simon. A silent understanding passes between the three of us. Playing together for years allows us to read each other's minds through a simple glance.
"We finish the season. We bring the Cup home. Then we retire." Wally makes the call.
A knot loosens in my chest. Retiring in our prime will send the sports media into a frenzy, driving the tabloids wild. I welcome the chaos. Trading a hockey dynasty for the chance to build a life with Vayda and Brendan is an easy choice.
I nod, a grim satisfaction settling into my bones. "One last ride. After the playoffs, we wrap up our careers."
Wally picks the pen back up and writes Strategy on the top of the notepad. "Until then, we fit this around our ice time. We hold off on demanding her attention. We skip pushing for a claim. Giving her space proves we accept Brendan."
Simon sits up straighter. "We still need to stay on her radar so she knows she has backup."
Wally underlines the word on his notepad. "Acts of service. We find the holes in her daily routine and plug them. We take the stress off her plate before she even asks."
Taking the weight off her shoulders requires precision.
Throwing money at the problem guarantees rejection, as her stance on that remains crystal clear.
Feeling like a burden dictates her actions.
Showing up with expensive gifts or paying her bills guarantees a terrible reaction.
She will rip up a check and throw the pieces in our faces.
Simon pushes off the leather couch to pace the space between the living room and the kitchen.
He gestures toward our stainless steel refrigerator.
"She's living on protein bars and bottled water.
I'll handle the grocery shopping tomorrow morning.
Skipping the optional video session gives me time to stock up on real food and fresh produce. "
Wally nods, writing Simon's name on the pad next to the word supplies. "Get high-calorie stuff. Text Kristy to find out Brendan's exact diet first to avoid buying anything that causes a medical issue."
The chaotic state of her entire backyard flashes in my mind.
"I'll take the manual labor." I look up at the guys, daring them to argue.
"Her fence is falling down and the gutters are hanging off the roof.
I plan to hit a hardware store tomorrow afternoon for some lumber and tools.
Staying out in the yard keeps me out of her hair inside the house. "
"Done." Wally writes my name next to the word repairs.
Simon walks over to the dining table and leans his hands on the smooth wood surface. "What about the big stuff? That driveway is a mess and the roof is bound to leak soon. Our schedule lacks the time for major renovations."
Wally picks up his phone from the table. "I'll run logistics. I'll get Kristy to send me the grocery lists and Vayda's coffee order."
Wally lifts his chin. "I'll also call in a property management firm to hire crews for the driveway and the roof.
Paying them double guarantees fast, quiet work.
Managing them over the phone keeps them away from her door and avoids disrupting Brendan.
Insulating her from the crew allows the house to get fixed. "
I recall the fierce Beta who set up the entire shed situation to keep Vayda alive. "You think Kristy will actually help us?"
Wally unlocks his phone. "Kristy wants Vayda to live. She'll help us if it keeps her friend healthy."
The plan is set, and we have our assignments. A unified, relentless drive to execute the strategy replaces the suffocating tension in the penthouse.
Standing up from the armchair, I walk back to the massive window and press my hand flat against the cold glass.
The city skyline stretches out for miles, displaying a sea of glittering lights and towering buildings.
Somewhere out there, miles away from this expensive apartment, sits a fading yellow house with a broken fence.
My chest aches with the distance between us. My Alpha instincts hum with the urge to surround her and bury my face in her neck. The chaotic panic fades, replacing the caged-animal feeling with sheer determination.
We have a solid game plan based on patience. Easing her into this prevents overwhelming her with demands to abandon her life. We will build a new life around her. Showing her we fit into her world while keeping ours intact remains the goal.
Staring down at the street traffic below reinforces my purpose. I will fix her fence. Proving my ability to protect her day after day drives my every action. I will shoulder the weight of her past and present, disabled bonded Alpha and all.
The image of Brendan sitting in that customized wheelchair flashes in my mind. The Alpha scent rolling off him normally triggers a competitive instinct, yet here it sparks my need to provide.
Surviving a tragedy stripped him of his mobility, his voice, and his independence. Keeping his mate by his side is my promise to him. Easing his mind about her safety becomes my responsibility. He can rest, knowing she has Alphas to care for her.