Chapter 7 Scotty
Scotty
My stomach dropped so fast I genuinely thought my dinner might attempt a dramatic exit.
I knew that look on Dad's face. I had known it since childhood.
It was the look he used before telling me we were moving again, or that he'd sold something I loved, or that things were going to be different now, but "different can be good, Scotty.
" Different had never once felt good in the moment.
Hunter and Ryder's gazes flicked from my dad and Morgan's interlaced fingers to my face, searching for a reaction.
I fixed my stare on the wall, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.
If I met their eyes right now, something inside me might splinter in a way I did not have the emotional bandwidth to repair.
"Tell us what, exactly?" Ryder asked, his tone carefully neutral, and I was absurdly grateful that he was taking the lead.
I could feel my father watching me, but I couldn't look at him. I was afraid that if I did, I'd either burst into tears or bolt upstairs like I was ten again and overwhelmed by emotions I didn't know how to process. It took everything I had just to remain upright and breathing normally.
"I've asked Morgan to marry me," my father said, his voice steady in a way that told me he had rehearsed this in his head at least a dozen times, "And she said yes. We haven't set a date yet, but it'll be soon."
He kept talking after that, something about timing and happiness and how this felt right, but his voice blurred at the edges. The room seemed to tilt slightly away from me, like I was observing everything from the far end of a tunnel.
Engaged. My dad is engaged.
The man who had been quietly grieving my mom for years was sitting at the head of the table, announcing a wedding. I should have felt uncomplicated joy. Instead, I felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under me twice in one day and expected me to applaud the décor change.
Under the table, Ryder took my hand, his fingers threading through mine in quiet support. The contact jolted me back into my body, reminded me that I wasn't floating alone in whatever strange emotional vacuum I'd slipped into. I blinked, inhaled, and forced myself to look up.
Both Dad and Morgan were watching me carefully. There was something tentative in Dad's eyes, something searching, and I realized my face must have been broadcasting every conflicted feeling I was desperately trying to hide.
"Well," I finally managed, breaking the suffocating silence. "Congratulations. That's… wonderful."
The smile I offered felt brittle at best. I stood before anyone could examine it too closely and began stacking plates and containers with more urgency than necessary.
Hunter and Ryder handed theirs over without comment.
As I reached past Ryder for his bowl, his fingers skimmed the inside of my wrist. The touch steadied me and unsettled me in equal measure.
"I'll get these cleaned up," I added. Scrubbing dishes sounded way more fun than sitting here pretending to be happy.
I passed the old wooden console table in the hallway and slowed despite myself. My mother's wedding photo was still there. She was laughing in it, head tilted back, Dad looking at her like she was the only thing that existed. It had always been centered, the first thing you saw when you walked in.
Now it sat slightly to the left.
Beside it was a framed photo of Dad and Morgan at some event, dressed up and smiling at each other.
It had been nearly fifteen years since Mom died, and I wanted Dad to be happy. I truly did. But the sight of my mother's photo nudged aside, as if making space for this new chapter, reopened a wound I thought had long since scarred over.
I hurried into the kitchen, depositing the stack into the sink and turning on the tap so the rush of water could drown out the noise in my head.
My hand reached automatically for the familiar red bag of Dad's dark roast—the stuff that could wake the dead, as he'd always joked.
Instead, I found my fingers brushing against an unfamiliar tan package.
A smoother blend promising low acidity and caramel notes.
A row of herbal teas sat neatly beside it.
"Oh." I stiffened at the sound of Morgan's voice behind me. "I finally convinced him to try something easier on his stomach. He says he's sleeping better."
"That's good," I said, and I meant it. I just couldn't remember him ever caring about acidity before. He used to say life was too short for weak coffee.
"I know this is difficult for you, Scotty. I just want you to know that I care about your father very much and want to make him happy."
Her kindness was the worst part. If she'd been awful, I could have hated her properly. Instead, her genuine concern twisted the knife deeper, making me feel petty for resenting someone who cared about my dad's happiness.
"I want Dad to be happy, too," I said, meaning every word despite everything else I was feeling. He deserved someone whose eyes softened at the edges whenever he spoke, the way hers had all evening.
"I'm glad," she replied, and there was genuine relief in her voice. "I'm impressed with how mature you're being about the whole thing."
I almost snorted. We both knew I was being anything but mature, but it was nice of her to pretend otherwise.
I focused on rinsing dishes that were already clean enough, letting the repetitive motion occupy my hands while my brain ran in frantic circles.
It wasn't just the engagement. It wasn't just that I'd known Morgan for all of two hours.
It wasn't even that something about her warmth made me want to punch a hole in the wall.
It was the implications.
If this wedding happened, Hunter and Ryder wouldn't just be players on my dad's team. They wouldn't just be the two Alphas who had turned me into a trembling mess in the back of a limo.
They would be family.
Ryder would technically be my stepbrother, and Hunter would be my… stepbrother-in-law?
But the fact remained that my body had responded to them without hesitation. Their scents didn't overwhelm me like most Alpha scents did. It was a big reason I ended up dating Ken, a Beta with a scent so subtle it was practically nonexistent. I preferred it that way.
But it was different with Ryder and Hunter. I loved their scents. My Omega, the little hussy that she was, couldn't get enough of them.
Even with the new information. Even with the mental warning signs flashing.
I still wanted them, and that was the part that truly unsettled me.
I wasn't dumb. I knew the two Alphas sitting in the other room with my dad were my scent matches.
But less than ten hours ago, I had caught the man I was supposed to marry with someone else.
I was not ready to pivot into scent matches and stepbrother technicalities.
I needed time. I needed space. I needed to remember who I was before someone else dictated my future.
My Omega didn't give a shit about what I needed, apparently.
All she cared about was claiming her mates.
A horn sounded outside, pulling me from my thoughts. I dried my hands and followed Ryder and Hunter out after quick goodbyes were exchanged inside. The rain stopped, and the night air felt cool against my overheated skin.
Ryder and Hunter guided me around puddles until we were out of earshot of the house.
"You coming with us?" Hunter asked, his voice carrying that playful challenge I was starting to recognize. "We're always happy to give you a ride."
I stared at him. "You did hear what they said in there, right? They're getting married."
Ryder shrugged slightly. "That doesn't change anything, Scotty."
"It changes everything," I whisper-shouted. "Dad will kill the two of you if he finds out what's going on. And if he doesn't kill you, he'll make your life a living hell. This can never happen again."
"Sweetheart," Ryder said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate register that sent goosebumps racing up my arms. "Mom and Coach understand the pull between compatible mates. They're not going to disown anyone because we're scent matches. They'll get it."
The words landed in my chest like something heavy and unwanted, because my next thought spilled out before I could stop it. "Is that the only reason you want me? Because of compatibility and my scent?"
Hunter's eyes flashed, his jaw tightening as if I'd slapped him. "What? No. Of course not," he said, his voice losing the playfulness I've gotten used to. The intensity in his voice eased something tight inside me. "It's just the cherry on top. You were already the whole damn dessert, Baby Girl."
Ryder's lip curled into that half-smile that made me want to simultaneously slap him and kiss him senseless. "Come home with us?"
I ignored the part of my body that wanted to say yes so badly it ached. "I'm exhausted," I told them, and I meant it in every possible way. "I just wanted to say thank you. For dinner. For earlier. For… everything."
Their eyes met, Hunter's eyebrow lifting a fraction, Ryder's jaw tightening almost imperceptibly in response. A whole conversation passed between them in seconds, leaving me on the outside of whatever understanding they'd reached.
"You have our number," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the space between us. "Call us when you're ready."
"Luckily for me, I don't have either of your numbers, so I won't be tempted."
"Of course, you do, Love," Hunter said, beaming at me, looking way too smug. "I made sure to add it to your contacts when you were… distracted."
Ugh. I needed to delete their numbers from my phone as soon as possible.
"I can't believe you went through my phone," I said, trying to sound annoyed but feeling my cheeks warm. "You should leave now before they get suspicious. I'll see you at the next game."
I turned and walked back toward the house, fully aware they were watching me the entire way.