17. Thanks for Nothing, Dick
Chapter seventeen
Thanks for Nothing, Dick
Jeff Akerman, NPHL Network Analyst"Let’s be honest, Cal, the Titans couldn't have asked for a stronger opening week.
Two convincing wins, balanced scoring, and the kind of defensive structure that wins Cups.
It's only October, but the Titans’s launch under Captain Carter Reynolds looks ready to leave the league chasing their ankles. "
Ifly across the kitchen with the speed of a runaway train. “ Not the Columbian!”
Lauren drops the bag. She eyes me warily as I scoop it up, aware that all eyes are pinned on me. I hide it behind my back. “Uh. There’s some decent Brazilian on the shelf. Very nutty.”
“That one was in the cupboard.” She gestures awkwardly to one of the communal spaces we’ve haggled out between ourselves in the last forty-eight hours. “Sorry.”
I know exactly how my favorite imported coffee that sells out every other week got there. Jonas rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “Sorry, Ro.”
I slide it back into my cupboard. My tiny, hidden away in the corner cupboard with the few things I’d rather not share with my new sister-wife, given we’re sharing everything else. My tone is testy. “Not your fault.”
Carter raises his eyes as I slip back around the island and bury my face in my Titans mug. His hand finds my knee and squeezes. “Look at you, playing nice.”
The amusement in his murmur makes me slide my knee away. “Good of you to notice, since I’ve barely seen you in days.”
“I already apologized.” He easily twists my stool to face him, keeping his voice low. Jonas engages Lauren in conversation opposite—and how domestic, I think sarcastically. What a peaceful Monday morning scene. “What more do you want from me, Ro? You know what the season is like.”
Anybody would think we were a perfectly merged pack.
Liam catches my eye over Carter’s shoulder in a clear reminder of our discussion, and my own shoulders slump. “I know. But you didn’t come home.”
“I told you.” He picks up my wrist and kisses it. “I was exhausted. Figured it was better to catch a few hours in the med bay than drive, and then I slept through. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
And I slept alone. I bite my tongue on that one, side-eyeing Liam as he turns to Lauren. The two of them bend their heads together, her dark silk against his, and I hate it.
I hate it all. I want to destroy this perfect breakfast spread I made to try and pretend that this is fine, and normal, and not screwed ten ways to Sunday. Sweep my arm across it and send every plate shattering. Get up on the island and scream at them until they listen.
This isn’t right.
Liam laughs at whatever she says, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Something approximating a snarl erupts from my mouth. That’s our thing. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to eat without the PDA.”
Jonas pauses, his coffee halfway to his open mouth.
Lauren sits back in her seat with a deep inhale that only irritates me more.
“You done with breakfast?” Carter steps in before Liam can. His fingers slip to the back of my neck and squeeze lightly. “I’ll give you a ride. I need to head in early.”
If I have to sit in the same car as them, none of us will make it to the Furnace unscathed.
Shoving my untouched plate away, I yank my laptop bag from the couch and follow him without a word.
Carter at least waits until we’re in the elevator. “That was unfair. Everyone’s trying to be considerate.”
“Yeah, well.” I study the glossy gold interior. Who decided the penthouse needed a gold elevator? It’s ridiculous. “There’s a lot of that going around. If I have an attitude, blame Liam’s stupid bedroom ban.”
I hate sleeping alone. Hate it. It feels like I haven’t slept in days. I eye my reflection in the gold, almost expecting to see cracks in my own face.
“It’s not forever,” Carter reminds me. “We all agreed to it, Rosie.”
Even him. Which is another reason for my irritation. “You might have. I didn’t actually get a say.”
The doors slide open, and I stalk through the garage towards Carter’s truck. My voice raises. “Everyone gets a say in this new fancy pack, except for me. Got it.”
He jogs to catch up with me. “You know it’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” I slam the door behind me without another word.
He gives me a look through the window that I ignore before getting into his own seat. “I’m going to cancel team dinner tonight. We have too much going on.”
I love team dinners. “You want to pack up my nest too, since you’re taking all of my favorite things away? Throw the coffee machine out of the window? Why don’t we cancel the teddy bear toss while we’re at it? Hell, cross Thanksgiving and Christmas off too.”
“Fine.” Fucker has the gall to sound amused. Carter accelerates onto the freeway. “I won’t cancel. But you know we can’t tell them, Ro. Can you do it?”
I mull it over. “Can Lauren leave for the night?”
Carter almost looks at me before he remembers his eyes-on-the-road routine. His hands flex on the wheel. “She’ll be an invited guest. Liam suggested it. Nobody will suspect, since she’s your new…”
He coughs. Possibly aware that my expression is creeping closer to committing alpha-cide with every word. “Anyway. Think about it.”
“I’m not canceling.” It’s the only thing I’m looking forward to in this whole cursed season. “I can suck it up for one night. If I can do it at work in front of everyone, I can do it at home. As long as she keeps her distance.”
I hope. The expression on his face says he’s not sure either.
When he parks up, he switches off the engine and we sit in silence. I watch as he pulls his arm back and rotates his shoulder, hissing between his teeth. He fishes a blister pack from his pocket, snaps two tablets free, and swallows them dry.
“Jesus.” I swallow back the worry, aiming for more lightheartedness and failing miserably. “Do I need to be worried?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “It’s all approved and above board. Don’t worry about me.”
I always worry about him. We split at the coffee cart, Carter heading to an interview briefing with Ness while I head to the studio. I have hours of unused footage in my phone, and I want to make some shorts for each of the team in the build-up to the Midwest Swing.
It takes her less than an hour to hunt me down. Slipping my headphones back, I fight not to scowl. “You found me.”
Lauren slides her laptop down beside mine. At least she brought coffee. “Thought we could go through the schedule for this week. I need to work a few posts in. The sooner we get the strategy nailed down, the better we can plan.”
Ah, yes. The strategy that’s above my paygrade.
Thanks, Dick. For nothing.
Fucker doesn’t even know how much he’s blown up my life. I’m sure he’d probably be delighted.
I tap the keyboard and sit back, letting her scroll through.
“These are excellent.” Lauren leans back. “The team responds well to you. It’s hard to catch true culture with planned filming.”
I shrug, watching Ryker copy Benji’s stretches on the screen. Ethan joins in, the two of them acting out every move with exaggerated motions as a clueless Benji bends over to touch his toes. Ryker flashes a grin to the camera, both of them blowing kisses.
Lauren purses her lips, reaching into her bag. She slides a stapled document in front of me. “This is the draft content strategy I’m taking to Ness and Richard. I’d like your views on it before it goes.”
“You wrote it already? You just got here.” I take the paper and slip it into my bag.
Of course she’s an overachiever. I bet it’s perfect. I’m petty enough to at least hope for a few stray typos I can circle. In red pen.
She looks a little embarrassed. “It’s only a draft. Final version will take a while to hammer out.”
“Sure.” We lapse into awkward silence before I push to my feet. “If that’s everything, I have a lot to do.”
Her hand reaches for my arm before she yanks it back. “Can we talk?”
I’d rather bare-knuckle fight with a crocodile than talk. But I sit back down with a heavy thump. “Go for it.”
“I wanted to say I… appreciate you letting me settle in.” She shifts in her seat. “It wasn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I push back my seat until we’re further apart. She’s gripping the armrest so tightly that her knuckles have turned white. “For me to make you sleep in the kitchen and eat out of the trash?”
“Kind of?”
“I didn’t know it was an option.” She looks like she doesn’t know what to say to that, and I bite down on my cheek. “Look. I hate this. I don’t think it’s a secret. Maybe it hasn’t been as bad as it could have been. But it’s not going to get easier. You’re their scent match, and I’m… not.”
It feels like I’m balancing on the edge of a cliff, and it’s only going to take the smallest nudge to shove me over the edge. Everyone is being polite right now. Everything is new, and everyone is sniffing around, trying to play nice.
This weird balance can’t last. And I’ll be the one trapped beneath the wreckage when it all comes crashing down.
“Maybe not all of them.” She sips at her coffee. “It’s hard to get a read on Carter. I haven’t seen him much. But I’m not picking anything up.”
That would throw me off the edge with the force of an invading army. “I’m keeping my fingers crossed. No offense.”
“None taken.” There’s a loose thread on her jeans, and she picks at it absently. “But if he’s not a scent match, you know what it means. Right?”
I’m trying not to think about that. “There’s nothing wrong with our pack.”
“I didn’t say there was.” Lauren keeps picking, twisting the dark thread.
Not in so many words. It feels like we’re having two different conversations, and I don’t like it. I study her, trying to work out her angle. “Say whatever it is you’re not saying.”
“You really don’t hold back, do you?” She lifts her eyes. “The pack dynamic is interesting. That’s all.”
Interesting is one of those words that seems good, but never actually is. My hackles rise instantly.
“You don’t know anything about our pack,” I say tightly. “You walked in a few days ago and turned our lives upside down. You have no idea what kind of pack we are.”
“I know.” The rapid agreement settles my flash of anger, lowering it to a simmer. “Is there anything I can do to make any of this easier?”
“You could not be so fucking agreeable.” It’s so annoying. “You make me look like a psychopath.”
“You’re allowed to be angry. Scent-matching sounds like a fairytale, but it isn’t particularly fair to omegas.” She sighs. “Liam told me there’s a team dinner tonight. I’ll stay out of your way.”
And now I feel like a prize bitch. “Thanks.”
She packs up her things while I stew in my own pity party, sponsored by a healthy dose of guilt. Words build up in my throat.
Ugh. No. Don’t do it. Keep those fuckers down. Grit your fucking teeth.
I don’t. I spew them out between us as she’s heading to the door. “You want to help me set up later?”
Her surprise colors the air as she twists to face me. “Really?”
I shrug, mutinous over my own betrayal. “Two dozen hockey players are converging on our apartment and will eat everything they see. Nothing is safe. I could use a hand.”
“Sure,” she says immediately, smiling. “I can do that.”
“Fine.” I yank my headphones back over my head. “Great. See you later.”
For fucks’ sake.