18. Elijah
It’s beyond weird taking the ice without Oli at my side. I know he’s in the building—he texted that he was going straight from the hospital to the game, medical advice be damned—but not being able to joke with him during warmups or pass to him on a breakaway might be the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been playing hockey. And that includes the months it took me to get used to playing on North American sized ice.
The lines are wacky, with guys shuffled thoroughly. Spencer and I end up with Markku Finney on our line, and he was practically dead by the end of the second. As a fourth-line winger, he’s just not used to playing the sheer number of minutes BlackJack, Ace, and I are used to. But we sure as hell didn’t want Kieran Leroy on our line instead.
I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt at first. He was called up from Shreveport with less than twenty-four-hour notice, and a few hours of game day practicing just isn’t enough to find the chemistry. But he kept making rookie mistakes, the worst of which was being offside before the game-tying goal was scored in the third period. It just took the wind out of our sails to see that number tick down on the scoreboard so close to the end of a tough game, and we weren’t able to recover.
The only good thing about the game being over is that we’re going over to Tori’s house. It’s that thought alone that keeps me upbeat enough to not glare daggers at Leroy like the rest of the team while we undress.
Soon enough, Spencer, Oli, and I pile into the SUV, Oli in the front passenger seat while Spencer drives. I still don’t have an American driver’s license, so I have to endure the short but tense ride from the backseat. Not that Spencer is a bad driver, but this SUV might mean more to Oli than either me or Tori, depending on the day. Thankfully, we make it to Tori’s adorable brick bungalow without Oli violating his doctor’s orders.
Tori answers the door before we can even knock, looking as beautiful as she always does in her work clothes. Her seafoam-green skirt has enough volume at the hem to accentuate her waist, and the off-white blouse she’s tucked into does incredible things for her tits. I step inside first, pulling her into a hug and kissing her temple. She smells delicious, though there’s a little touch of artificial scent-blocking soap, like she showered earlier, around the edges of her sweet tea and magnolias. That doesn’t sit right with me.
“That was a tough one,” she comments into my chest.
I nod, not sure what to say. I let her go when she starts to pull away, toeing my shoes off onto the mat just inside the door before I shuffle to the couch and flop down in a heap.
“What did the doctor say?” Tori asks from behind me, and Oli sighs.
Spencer joins me in the living room, taking one of the armchairs rather than fighting me for a place on the couch. Oli has Tori by the hand when he sits down on the other, a little tension arising as he tries to pull her down into his lap, but she plants her feet and gives him a warning look.
“Fractured orbital, which is why I look like I went ten rounds with Ivan Drago. But my shoulders and back are fine, just sore. I’ll be allowed to skate in a week or two to keep my skills up, but nothing strenuous for a while,” Oli explains.
I chuckle ironically. He’s not kidding about the state of his face. The goose egg from yesterday is gone, but the left side of his face is molted purple, blue, and green, focused mostly around his cheekbone. I guess he should be lucky he didn’t herniate a disc or dislocate his shoulder from the initial impact. Tori sighs and gives in, curling onto Oli’s lap with her bare feet hanging over one of the arms.
“Anders got suspended for that hit, by the way.” I share the news I learned through the locker room grapevine earlier today.
“Fucking good. Goons like that are a dying breed, and maybe it’ll be a lesson for the next guy,” Spencer fires back, surprisingly heated.
“You’re never going to get rid of the enforcers completely. Hell, why do you think we still have Ozzy on the roster?” Tori replies, laughing.
We all share a chuckle at that. Zemgus Ozolins might be the biggest teddy bear on the team, but he does have a mean streak when he’s provoked.
“Are we ordering food? I’m fucking starving,” I groan, flopping my head backward dramatically.
“I’ve got a pizza set to arrive soon. I hope that’s okay,” Tori says, unusually hesitant.
I sit up slightly, my brow furrowing as I take in her face. Avoiding eye contact, she looks at her lap and occasionally glances over Oli’s shoulder toward the front window.
“Is something wrong, princess?” Oli asks gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Shrugging, she tries to get up from his lap. But he takes hold of her waist and keeps her still, ducking his head to try to meet her gaze. I move to the edge of the cushions, ready to spring into action to fix whatever is distressing our girl. Spencer is quiet, observing everything carefully. There’s several more heartbeats of silence, and I’m about to push the matter, when movement from the street catches my eye. A car pulling up to park on the curb in front of the house. Oli notices me looking and turns to check it out himself, letting his guard down enough for Tori to slip away, rushing to her window and pulling back the sheer curtain ever-so-slightly.
“Is that the pizza?” Spencer asks.
Tori doesn’t answer, going to the door and anxiously smoothing her skirt until there’s a hard knock on the wood. The door opens to the left, blocking our view of the new arrival at first. But then my jaw drops as Coach McQueen steps across the threshold, one hand loosening his tie. He looks at the three of us in turn, and my pulse starts hammering. What the fuck is he doing here?
And then my jaw hits the floor when he grabs Tori’s hand and kisses her knuckles gently, the normally stern lines of his face softening for just a moment as he looks down at her.
“What the fuck is going on?” Oli roars, getting to his feet and clenching his fists at his side.
As Coach and Tori break apart, my chest is a roiling pot of emotions, though I’m not willing to jump to conclusions just yet. Her glare is ice cold as she steps away from Logan and crosses her arms over her chest. Coach closes the door and looks around before he removes his shoes, leaving them next to ours beside the door.
“Tori?” Spencer asks, an edge to his voice.
She sighs and runs her fingers through her loose curls, moving over to the kitchen and putting the breakfast bar between us and her. Logan’s remained by the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he keeps surveying his surroundings.
“He knows,” she says simply.
My blood turns to ice, and I stare at Logan with true fear washing over me. I thought we were so careful. But then I remember the picture I sent him instead of Oliver, and I swallow the hard lump in my throat.
“Doesn’t explain why he just waltzed in here and started manhandling you,” Oli snarls. The parts of his face not covered in bruises flush an angry red.
Tori rolls her eyes, a deserved gesture to Oli’s overreaction, but she doesn’t answer right away, looking down at the counter. Her shoulders are slumped, and I swear I can see her shaking. My alpha instinct perks up, and I get to my feet and start toward her. Maybe it’s because of how I was raised, but whatever is going on between her and Logan doesn’t bother me half as much as the way she’s on the verge of tears.
“It’s okay, sunshine. Just talk to us, please,” I say, stopping at the transition of the hardwood to the kitchen tile. Not crowding her, but putting myself between her and everyone else.
She looks up at me, a little ember of hope in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Eli. It’s been... all season, we’ve sort of... and then this morning...”
Her words come out in half-finished sentences, but I can fill in the gaps just fine. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t noticed the insane chemistry between Tori and Logan, and I’m not entirely surprised that it finally came to a head. But her guilt tastes like burnt tea on my tongue, and it makes my heart hurt. Tori’s hardly had a real relationship in her life, let alone a polyamorous one, and would have no idea how to navigate a situation like this. We should have talked more about what it would mean to bring other people into this, and that’s on me. If I had known the depths of her feelings, I would have made a point to discuss it further so she wouldn’t be standing here, bracing for what probably feels to her, like the inevitable implosion of our relationships.
“Did you threaten to rat us out if she didn’t fuck you?” Oli rounds the back of the couch to half the distance between them, his energy pulsing with barely restrained rage.
I glance away as Logan growls, his eyes narrowing as his spine curls defensively. “No. I would never stoop that low, and if you want to keep your teeth where they are, you better watch how you talk about Tori,” he snaps.
I look back at Tori. She’s bright pink as her mismatched blue eyes meet mine, but she nods in confirmation. That soothes a little of my concern. If Logan had forced Tori to do anything she didn’t want to do, I’m not sure if anyone could stop me from laying Logan out.
“What the fuck are you doing here, then?” Spencer asks, more of a demand than a question. He hasn’t moved from his chair, but he’s still glaring daggers at our coach.
“We need to have a talk,” Logan says simply. “Sit down, Ace. You aren’t in any condition to throw hands.”
I turn back and jump as I realize Oli is nearly chest to chest with the older alpha—not that Logan looks bothered. Tori lets out an irritated sigh, which draws all our attention.
“You’re not a coach in here, and you’re going to show some respect to my partners in my house,” she says, most of her regular fire back in her voice.
My chest flares white hot as I realize she’s claimed us as her partners, something I’m not sure I would have imagined happening only a few short weeks ago. I expect Logan to push back, or attempt some lame dominance challenge, but to my amazement, he holds up his hands in surrender. Oli lifts his chin with a smug smirk.
“And you’re going to respect him, too, Ace,” Tori adds with a quirked eyebrow.
Oli whips his head around, mouth parting in shock. But Tori doesn’t back down, and he’s eventually forced to give in and return to the living room. He takes a seat on the couch this time, and I look back at Tori for what she wants to do next. She sighs and her strong front drops for a moment before she notices I’m watching her. When our eyes connect again, I can see the swirl of guilt and trepidation, but I give her a reassuring smile before holding out my hand for her to take, which she does without hesitation. She lets me guide her back to the living room, Logan moving with us. Tori breaks off and takes the remaining armchair, curling up in it until her legs disappear under the folds of her skirt.
“How long have you wanted her?” Spencer asks, nearly an octave lower than usual.
Logan looks at him, confused and, frankly, so am I. I know I’m the outlier here, being so okay with Tori getting involved with our coach, but there seems to be something else that’s pissing Spencer off.
“We met at the beginning of the season, BlackJack. Remember, I was a student, too,” Tori answers before Logan can speak.
I let out a noise of understanding, though it doesn’t seem to register with Logan right away.
“I told you Spencer and I have history. We... were together briefly at U of M,” Tori explains.
Logan turns a bemused smirk onto Spencer. “Is that why you were playing shit in the fall?” he asks with a chuckle.
Spencer rolls his eyes, but some of the tension eases from his shoulders.
“No, Tori and I have been... circling the drain, so to speak, since pre-season. I thought it would have been inappropriate to approach her more seriously. But then I find out she’s been with you three chuckleheads this whole time,” Logan starts, turning a teasing smirk on each of us.
“It’s still inappropriate, as far as I’m concerned. You’re old enough to be her dad,” Oli fires off.
Logan and Tori share a look, and judging by the shade of red she turns, Logan might be more of a father figure than we know. But that’s a discussion for another day.
“I’m not that much older than yous guys, you know that, right? Coaching has just made me go gray prematurely.” Logan’s definitely joking this time, his expression showing only amusement.
“So what now? I’m pretty sure I speak for all of us when I say we’re not breaking up with Tori, not if she doesn’t want to.” I change the subject while looking between Tori and Logan.
Tori shakes her head. “I don’t. But I... I can’t deny the way I feel about Logan anymore…” Tori replies, starting off strong before trailing off.
I nod. “You shouldn’t have to. Coach—”
Logan grimaces. “No, not Coach. Not when we’re off the clock,” he interjects.
I swallow and nod my agreement. “Logan, I don’t know what Tori’s told you, but this thing”—I motion between everyone seated— “is serious. We’re talking about forming a pack.”
Logan grunts and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at each of his players in turn. But his gaze lingers on Tori’s face for the longest, searching her expression for something. I’m not sure what it is, but he must find it, judging by the silent nod he gives her. “Okay,” he says after a long, tense moment, turning his head to look at me again.
I blink, stunned into silence.
“That’s it? ‘Okay’?” Spencer asks, his voice mirroring my astonishment.
“You’re all adults, and if that’s how you feel, then there’s no point in me trying to talk you out of it,” Logan says.
“Wait, what?” Tori blurts, straightening in her chair.
Logan shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about how we could be together for a long time, baby girl.” Out of the corner of my eye, Oli and Spencer wince, clearly not comfortable with the way he’s speaking to Tori, though they don’t stop him. “I’ll admit that I didn’t see a poly situation coming, but it doesn’t make me want to be with you any less. We just have to be smart about how we handle things going forward.”
It does warm my heart to see how quickly Logan is getting on board with everything, but Oli and Spencer don’t seem to be as convinced. And that he’s already thinking about the five of us as a unit bodes well.
“How do you plan on registering?” he asks, settling into a wider stance.
Tori looks around to the rest of us, eyes wide with uncertainty. Oli and Spencer aren’t as obvious with their confusion, and I let out a chuckle.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk about pack dynamics yet, let alone look into the legalities of it all. I come from a big pack back home, but things are always different in the states,” I reply when no one else speaks up.
Logan nods approvingly. “Good. It’ll help to have someone who knows about this shit.”
“Are you looking to join?” I ask the question before I can think better of it.
Tori lets out a concerned squeak, but I keep eye contact with Logan, waiting for his response. He sucks his teeth and looks down for a moment, head bobbing as he goes through some sort of internal debate. Eventually, he looks up at Tori again, his mouth curling into a little frown to see her pale, stricken expression.
“Eventually, I think I might be. For the moment, though, it’s probably safer if I didn’t,” he says at last, turning back to look at me.
“Why? You scared of being with Tori publicly?” Oli snipes, though there’s not a whole lot of heat behind it.
Logan doesn’t take the bait. “Absolutely not, but I’m trying to be a team player here and get you guys straightened out before one of you ends up being packaged up and traded out.”
“Because management can’t trade one of us away without the approval of our pack mates?” Oli interjects.
Logan nods. “More than that. If you’ve got a pack omega you’re courting, the team can’t make any moves that would interfere with your designation rights. No trades. No waivers. No buyouts. Hell, I’m pretty sure they can’t make you travel or play if your omega goes into heat.”
I sit back as the weight of that information settles over me. Oli and I have been researching our options, but I’ll admit that we stopped looking at the details once we figured out that we would be able to play together once we formed a pack. Partly because we found the answer, and maybe partly because we didn’t know if we could find an omega who would agree to our harebrained scheme, let alone one who would care about us enough to actually want to court formally.
“But I could still get fired. Players have way more protections than staff,” Tori interjects.
Logan nods. “So could I, if management thought I had any sort of inappropriate relationship with my players.”
“That’s... Is that—”
Logan cuts Spencer’s stuttered questions off with a bark of laughter. “Don’t worry, boys. While you’re a bunch of good-looking chuckleheads, you aren’t exactly my type. I’m not going to move in on whatever you three have going on. I fully support it if it makes you happy. As long as I get to spend time with Tori, and your on-ice performance isn’t impacted, then that’s fine with me.”
Oli openly gawks at Logan, and I can’t quite read the thoughts behind his amber eyes. Maybe it’s his past coloring his present, but I don’t know if he thought anyone in the professional hockey world support him. Hearing someone like Logan, a legendary player in his own right and the best coach we’ve ever had, say that might have shorted out his brain.
Logan takes in the absence of any objections and continues. “We can and absolutely should have a longer discussion about how these relationships are going to work on a personal level. But for now, you guys need to get a lawyer and get the ball rolling. You’ll be lucky if you can get a court date to have a judge sign off on the paperwork before the trade deadline. One of my old teammates might know someone local who can keep their mouth shut.”
“Wait, you’re serious? You’re going to help us? Just like that? What’s the catch?” Oli demands, finding his voice again.
Logan gives him a curious glance before answering. “For now, the catch is we have to keep acting like nothing’s going on. That means seriously scrubbing with scent blockers before games and practices, because I’ve been smelling Tori on you for months.”
Logan glances at each of us sharply, and I can feel the tips of my ears warming. Yeah, I guess we haven’t been as careful as we thought.
“No more wandering off to do whatever the fuck you do on Tuesdays during lunch break…” Logan adds to Tori and Oli specifically.
“Would you believe me if I told you we’re literally just getting lunch?” Tori asks.
“No, not in the slightest. And neither will the upper brass,” Logan retorts, not missing a beat.
Tori and Oli share a sullen look. It sucks, but Logan has a point. I know they love their little po’ boy shop, but I was able to follow them without breaking a sweat. It just takes one dedicated, nosy office worker, and then this whole thing blows up in our faces.
“And I think you should try to get your boss on board,” Logan says to Tori with a serious set to his brow.
Tori bolts upright, her scent souring with her panic. “What? Why? I thought we were trying to avoid getting fired?” she blurts, words tumbling out in a jumbled mess.
“You work in Public Engagement, Tori. Think about this with your work brain,” Logan prompts, his teaching voice coming through, as if she was one of his players and he’s trying to get her to understand a skill or play.
Tori closes her mouth for a moment, the rest of us silent. I can see the wheels turning behind her mismatched blue irises, but I don’t have her training or insight to know where this could be going.
“If he knows, then he could fire me,” Tori says at last, digging her heels in.
“He could, or he could understand why this is important to you and help you guys build a strategy for going public.”
“I lied to him, told him straight to his face that I didn’t have anything to hide or that would cause a scandal for the team.” She doesn’t back down.
Logan shrugs. “So you apologize and come clean. It’s better that he finds out about this from you, rather than reading a headline later down the road.”
Tori opens her mouth to retort, but stops short, brow furrowing.
“Dee was with the team when I was a player. He was always a really understanding guy, and just wanted what was best for the team. Has that changed while I’ve been gone?” Logan asks.
My lips turn down in a conceding frown for a moment as I incline my head. It’s easy to forget that Logan was just like us, not that long ago. Tori’s shoulders slump as she sits back in her chair, shaking her head.
“Then I think you need to at least try. If shit hits the fan, then we can deal with the fallout.” He gives Tori a warm, comforting smile.
I’m struck by how strange the expression is on his features, having never seen anything like it during practice or a game. I manage to pick my jaw up off the floor as Logan turns his attention back to me and my teammates.
“For the rest of us, it’s going to have to be business as usual. You focus on getting better and back out on the ice,” Logan pauses to give Oli a stern look, which he returns with a glare, “and you two have games to win. Don’t forget about your All-Star prep.”
Logan glances at Spencer meaningfully. He was the only player on our team to be selected for the exhibition weekend that’s being held in just under two weeks. Spencer’s and Tori’s eyes meet for a moment, sharing a commiserating look.
Thankfully, Logan doesn’t stick around for much longer. The pizza arrives, and he leaves hot on the heels of the delivery driver. But not before he snags a single slice of pizza and a blisteringly hot kiss with Tori. The rest of us settle back in the living room, and I’ll be the first to admit, when Logan walked in tonight, not for one second did I think this would be how the evening would go. I was prepared for tearful explanations and some good, old-fashioned begging. But he’s remarkably chill about the entire scenario, and having his help to form our pack without him getting any immediate benefit is a pleasant surprise.
I want to know more about what’s going on between him and Tori, just because I don’t want her getting hurt, but that’s a fight for another day.