12. Simon
Ipush the cart down the bright grocery store aisle.
The place smells like artisan bread and overpriced greens.
Soccer moms in expensive yoga pants block the walkways.
I dodge around them and check my phone screen.
Wally pulled a massive favor getting this list from Kristy.
It outlines every safe food Brendan tolerates and every brand Vayda prefers.
Using a delivery app feels like a massive cop-out.
Paying some random teenager to pick out bruised fruit is a bullshit move.
I need to grab the best produce with my own hands.
I need a valid excuse to show up at her front door.
Showing up empty-handed frames me as an obsessive stalker pushing my way back in.
Arriving with a trunk full of food gives me a rock-solid reason to stand on her porch.
I park the cart in the produce section. I scan the piled pyramids of fruit.
Kristy made a point about mangoes. Brendan loves them.
They offer a straight shot to his good side.
I spend ten minutes sorting through the bins.
I squeeze the skins, checking for perfect ripeness.
I fill a plastic bag with the best ones.
I steer the cart toward the coffee aisle. Two teenagers rocking Canval Reapers jerseys spot me near the end-cap. They jog over, holding out their phones.
"Simon Clark? Can we get a picture?" One kid shoves his phone forward.
I force a smile and nod. I pose for a photo with each of them and give them a quick fist bump. Some days I crave a quiet trip to the store without the flashing cameras. I push the thought aside. I take the attention in stride.
It comes with the territory when I’m part of one of the best NAHL teams in the league. We’ve been in the playoffs for four years straight. Last year we almost got the cup and lost to the Bears. An underdog story none of us thought would happen after their humiliating losing streak.
I turn back to the shelves. I grab four bags of the dark roast Vayda likes.
The price tag is ridiculous. I toss them into the cart anyway.
I grab fresh vegetables, high-protein snacks, and a dozen other items to fill her empty pantry.
She needs calories. She needs real fuel to recover from that brutal Heat.
I hit the checkout lane and tap my phone against the reader.
I lug the stuffed paper bags out to the parking lot.
A warm spring breeze hits my face. A dry winter kept the dirt soft enough for Kel to rip out those rotting fence posts yesterday, saving us a massive headache.
I pop the hood of my black Porsche and load the groceries into the frunk.
I drop into the leather driver's seat and fire up the engine.
The sports car roars to life. I pull out of the lot and cruise toward her neighborhood.
My brain runs through a dozen different scenarios.
I practice opening lines to keep her from slamming the door in my face.
We promised to give her space, but leaving her alone to suffer through that daily grind feels like a terrible strategy.
She needs to see us showing up and putting in the work.
I turn onto her street and spot the fading yellow house.
A landscaping crew hacks away at the front bushes.
I pull my car into the cracked concrete driveway right behind a massive flatbed truck.
I put the Porsche in park and kill the engine.
I grab the stuffed paper bags, balancing two in each arm, and walk up the concrete steps to her front porch.
I step toward the welcome mat to set them down and ring the bell.
The front door swings open before I can set the bags down.
A streak of orange and black fur darts through the gap.
"Cali, get back here!" Vayda grabs the edge of the door.
The cat scales my jeans. She digs her claws into my jacket and scrambles up to my shoulder. I chuckle, shifting the paper bags to handle her weight. I scratch the calico behind her ears. She purrs against my neck.
Vayda stands in the doorway. She wears an oversized blue sweater and faded jeans.
Her red hair sits piled in a messy knot on top of her head.
The silver roots frame her face. Dark circles stain the skin under her blue eyes.
She still looks stunning. I grip the paper bags tighter.
I want to drop them and pull her against my chest.
She stares at my face, then drops her gaze to the stuffed bags in my arms. She crosses her arms over her chest. Her slumped shoulders scream tired resignation, a big shift from the terrified energy from two days ago.
Kel came back to the penthouse this morning smiling like the cat who got the canary because she let him sleep on the couch.
They hadn’t even done anything. He even met Brendan.
A bitter pill of jealousy burned in my gut all morning.
Kel plans to spend the afternoon hammering the privacy panels into her new fence.
I need to wedge my own foot in the door today.
"Simon." She lets out an exhausted sigh. "What are you doing on my porch?"
"You need food." I hold my ground, giving Cali another scratch. "Those protein bars kept you alive during your Heat. You broke the bond rejection sickness, but you lost too much weight. Seeing you this thin hurts my soul. You need real food to get your strength back."
She rubs the bridge of her nose.
"I let Kel build the fence." She eyes the bags in my arms. "I draw the line at letting you buy my groceries."
She glances at the brown paper bags. Her eyes snag on the bright red mangoes and the shiny foil bags of her favorite coffee sticking out of the top. Her tense shoulders drop. She stares at the expensive food.
She lets out a long breath and reaches into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulls out her cell phone.
"I owe you for the groceries." She taps the screen to unlock it. "I lack the cash for the landscaping, but I can cover this. What's your CashApp? I prefer paying my own way."
I shift the bags and reach out. I push her hand down, covering the screen with my palm.
"Keep your money." I meet her gaze. "I bought this. It's a gift. Let me carry these to the kitchen and help you unpack. Give me five minutes. I promise to walk right back out that door when the bags are empty."
Vayda chews her bottom lip. Her eyes dart between my face and the fresh produce. Her grip tightens on her phone. She wants to kick me out, but Brendan needs the fresh food.
She takes a step back and opens the door wider.
"Five minutes." She points toward the kitchen.
I step past her into the cramped entryway.
Cali leaps from my shoulder, landing on the floorboards with a soft thud.
The scent of medical wipes and her sweet lavender fills the air.
I walk straight into the outdated kitchen and set the stuffed bags on the scuffed linoleum counter.
Vayda follows me into the room. She stands on the opposite side of the island, keeping a wide berth between us.
I pull items from the paper bags. I stack the canned goods and the boxes of pasta on the counter.
"We can make this easier." I grab the bags of coffee and set them near her machine. "We have the cash to take the edge off your stress. We can handle the grocery runs and the house repairs. You can focus on Brendan."
Vayda grabs a stack of cans. She faces the open pantry. She sets the cans on the shelf with a loud thud.
"You think buying expensive coffee fixes my reality." She grips a box of pasta. "You guys throw cash at problems until they go away. My life requires constant work. It takes round-the-clock care. You have hockey games and road trips. You will get bored of playing home nurse."
I load the fresh produce into the refrigerator crisper drawers. "Money fixes the broken driveway. It buys you the time you need to breathe. We want a place in your life. We want to fit into your routine. We plan to adapt to you."
Vayda turns to face me. She points to the messy knot on top of her head.
"Look at my silver roots, Simon." She steps toward the island. "You three are in your prime. You have puck bunnies throwing themselves at you after every game. Young Omegas with zero baggage. You will wake up next month and regret tying yourselves to an aging woman and a disabled Alpha."
I shut the refrigerator door. I step up to the opposite side of the counter.
"We want you." I lock my eyes on hers. "We crave a mate with lived experience. Those arena girls break under this kind of pressure."
She shakes her head. Her knuckles turn white against the counter.
"The novelty fades." She drops her chin. "The adrenaline from the Heat will leaves your system. Then you face the daily grind. You face the isolation. You will resent us for ruining your freedom."
"Kel told us about the dinner." I lean my hands flat on the island. "He mentioned the feeding schedule and the prep. Wally mapped out our off-days to match your nursing gaps. We are serious about this, Vayda. You carry the entire world on your shoulders. Let us take a piece of it."
She rubs her temples. Her shoulders slump forward. The sound of a nature documentary plays from the television in the other room.
"My five minutes are up." I push off the counter and point toward the hallway. "Before I go, I want to introduce myself to Brendan."
Vayda turns around. Her blue eyes widen. She studies my face, searching for pity or disgust. She finds genuine respect.
"He is watching a show." She grips the edge of the island. "Keep your voice calm."
I nod and walk out of the kitchen. I head straight into the living room. Brendan sits parked in his wheelchair near the sofa. His head rests against the padded support. His bright blue eyes track the animals on the screen. The faint scent of rain and driftwood lingers in the air around him.
I walk over to the chair. I drop my knees to the rug, bringing my face down to his eye level. I keep my posture open and relaxed. It shows clear submission to the resident Alpha. I bow my head a fraction to acknowledge him as the man of the house.
"Hello, Brendan. I'm Simon." I keep my tone calm. "It's an honor to meet you. You have a beautiful house, man."
Brendan blinks. He turns his head and locks his eyes on my face. He lets out a low, rumbling hum from his chest. His curled fingers twitch on the armrest. He lifts his hand and reaches toward me. I hold my palm open. Brendan drops his curled fingers against my skin.
Footsteps pad across the floorboards. Vayda steps out of the kitchen and stops at the edge of the rug. She stares at Brendan's hand resting in mine. Her mouth hangs open a fraction. The rigid set of her shoulders drops. Her guarded expression gives way to stunned disbelief.
"He likes you." She grips the sleeves of her blue sweater. "He avoids new people."
"He has good instincts." I push to my feet and turn to face her. "He knows I respect him."
I walk over to the edge of the hallway. I stop a few inches from her. Her breath catches. The sweet scent of her lavender flares in the narrow space. I keep my hands shoved deep in my pockets, honoring her five-minute rule.
"We want both of you, Vayda." I lock my eyes on hers. "We want the whole package. Take your time and figure that out. Eat the food I bought."
I take a step toward the entryway. I pause near the threshold.
"Kel puts the rest of the fence up today." I pull my hands out of my pockets. "Until he secures the perimeter, your yard remains an open target. I claim the sofa tonight to keep watch."
I step past her and walk out the front door. I pull it shut behind me, leaving her alone in the quiet house to process the morning.