32. Tori
I adjust my bag on my shoulder as I wait for Oli to answer the door, taking advantage of the reflection on the glass to check my makeup. I’d done my best to touch up on the way here, but I’m not sure if I succeeded in covering up the redness and puffiness around my eyes from the crying fit I had.
By this point in my life, I should know better than to think the team that starts the season is going to be the one who finishes it. Injuries, trades, call ups, all these reasons and more can shuffle the roster in the blink of an eye. But getting the call directly from the owner to inform me he’s sent a trade offer to Oliver’s agent was a blow I wasn’t expecting.
One of these days, I’m going to stand up to Gideon St. Clair and tell him where he can shove that smug fucking attitude of his. But today, I was too stunned to do more than thank him for letting me know, though I’m grateful I hung up before I started crying.
An offer isn’t a guarantee , the stubbornly optimistic part of me cries. Oliver can reject it.
Yes, to a certain degree, a player has a say over the deals they’re part of. But at the end of the day, unless there’s some sort of No-Trade Clause in his contract, or if there isn’t some sort of pack consideration to be had, management could ship any player they want to any team in the league if the price is right.
And, even if my heart hates it, this is a good trade. Which makes it hurt all the more.
Thankfully, I manage to wipe the despair from my face right as Oli opens the door. If he noticed anything, he doesn’t mention it as he steps aside to allow me into the home he and his linemates share.
The house is objectively one of the prettiest I’ve ever been in, despite the distinct lack of analog clocks anywhere under the roof. Their living room has the distinctive tall ceilings typical in New Orleans homes, with slow-moving ceiling fans to circulate the warm air back down. There’s a massive television to the left, with a sectional and a few chairs positioned in front of it with a oversized padded ottoman in the center of the formation. Tall windows line the front and right side walls, with a staircase leading upstairs in the back corner of the room. A large open gap supported by dark wood columns and a matching spandrel leads to the kitchen and dining area.
I let out a sigh, my shoulders relaxing as I inhale the combined scents of my alphas. Spearmint, ozone, cranberries, bergamot, and spices float around me, ingrained into just about every object in the house. I deposit my shoes near a small mountain of their kin beside the door before allowing Oli to take my bag over to the couch. Following behind, I curl up in the bend of the sectional, my favorite spot. Oli sits close, one arm stretched out over the back as he twists to face me more directly. There’s a somber look in his eyes, and my stomach drops.
“You got the call, too?” I ask softly.
Oli nods, not needing any clarification. “Carolina has a good chance of taking their entire conference,” he says.
My jaw drops, surprised and hurt in equal measure. “You’re not seriously considering taking the offer?” I snap.
Oliver sits up, alarmed by my tone. “Of course not! It’s just—”
He stops himself as he realizes that I’m barely containing the wobble in my lower lip, the backs of my eyes burning again. My heart aches. I want to turn away so he can’t see how much his words affect me, but he’s got me pinned under his amber gaze. I can’t even move as he crawls his way across the short distance between us, and my legs fall open instinctually to give him space to loom over me. I exhale shakily as he takes my face in his hands.
“The commissioner could call me right this instant and give me a billion-dollar contract on the best team in the league with a guarantee I would win the Stanley Cup, and I would tell him to shove it up his lard ass. I don’t want to be anywhere else except by your side, princess.”
That half-whispered declaration makes my skin break out in goosebumps, and a shiver slides down my spine. His scent is everywhere, warm and comforting and safe. And when he leans in and kisses me, it’s like a fresh cup of Earl Gray sliding down my throat to soothe the jagged edges of my heart. The longer the kiss goes on, the harder it is to remember why I was worried in the first place. Of course, he wouldn’t leave me. He’s my alpha, the prime alpha I chose to lead my pack.
Oli pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, purring under his breath for me. I reach up and clasp my hands around the back of his neck, letting my eyes close and enjoying the intimacy.
“If you still don’t believe me when I say I’m not leaving, I have something for you that might change your mind,” Oli says, his raspberry breath caressing my cheeks.
I peek up at him through my lashes, curiosity ballooning in my belly. He’s smirking down at me with mischief sparking like embers in his eyes.
“Well, I don’t know. I’m still not sure you’re not going to up and leave...” I trail off, the disappointment in my voice completely fake even to my ears.
Oliver chuckles, a low rumble that makes my core pulse. His hands drop to my waist and, with surprising ease, he pulls us both up to our feet from the couch. Grabbing my hand, he starts to lead me up the stairs, but not before I snatch the strap of my bag. I have no real idea about what’s going to happen, but if my guess is correct, I’m going to want the treat I brought with me for just such an occasion.
My bare toes sink into the thick carpet on the steps and the hallway at the top as I step beside Oli. After spending a few nights, I know that three of them are bedrooms, and one is Spencer’s bathroom. I’ve spent most nights in bed with Oli and Eli in the primary bedroom, but the door Oli’s pulling me toward isn’t that. Instead, it’s the guest room I tried to sleep in during the hurricane. My brow knits downward, curiosity morphing into confusion.
He turns to me with a softer smile and an almost hesitant slant to his eyes as he pauses with one hand on the handle.
“I’ve been working on this for a while, and I think you’ll like it. But if you want to change anything, we can absolutely do that.”
I nod, completely flummoxed. A million different things could be behind that door, too many options for my mind to parse out, before Oli twists the handle and pushes the door open for me.
Right away, I notice that the color of the walls has changed. The last time I was in this room, it was a modern mix of whites and greiges, the walls lime washed with stark white crown molding. But now the walls are a dark blue, the molding painted to match the gold stars speckled over the tall expanses. I take a tentative step forward, edging around Oli to look at the rest of the room.
My eyes go wide, and I drop my bag as my hands come up to cover my gaping mouth. The room has been completely transformed from the bare-bones guest space it had been less than three months ago. The queen bed has been replaced by a massive platform bed, at least twelve feet wide, judging by the way it takes up all the space between the walls. It’s not quite square in its proportions, leaving plenty of space between the end of the bed and door leading to the private bathroom. On the wall opposite the bed is a small wet bar, complete with a not-quite-mini fridge with a freezer, a microwave, and a coffee machine. A large television is mounted on the wall above the setup, tilted down slightly.
More details come into focus as I step fully into the room, spinning slowly in place to see everything. A sliding pocket door leading to a walk-in closet tucked next to the wet bar. The built-in shelves framing the bed, almost creating a half-enclosed alcove. Thick velvet curtains blocking any light coming in from the tall, narrow windows. The soft canopy and string lights draped just so over the bed, effectively lowering the ceiling.
My instincts recognize this space for what it is almost instantly. A nest. Oliver has built me a nest.
“I took cues from your house for the design choices. A sort of eclectic, galaxy, cottage core, rustic mix. Spencer said we had to keep the ceiling fan, or we’d roast in here during the summer. I would have preferred something smaller, like recessed lights, but c’est la vie .”
I look toward his voice to find him leaning sideways against the doorframe, his hands deep in his pockets, his head tilted back slightly. Following his gaze, my eyes rise, and I gasp in astonishment again. A mural stretches across the entire ceiling, a detailed illusion of a glass ceiling covered in vines and flowers looking up into the night sky, the Milky Way streaking diagonally across it. The ceiling fan hangs from the center of the room, cleverly disguised with fake plants and dark paint to make it blend into the image.
“It’s perfect,” I breathe out, my voice cracking.
“We have some blankets and pillows here, but if you want to start moving your things in, we can do that as early as tomorrow.” Oli continues, almost like he didn’t hear me.
I swallow and close my eyes. My heart is so full that it’s hard to form words, but it’s about time we have this conversation.
“I don’t have anything,” I say, a little louder this time.
Opening my eyes and turning to face Oli, I find him standing straight up, brow furrowed in concern.
“What...don’t have any...”
“Nesting materials,” I finish for him with a sad smile.
I watch in real time as my words sink in, and Oli’s face transforms from confusion, to anger, to sadness, and back to confusion. I turn and cross my arms over my stomach and sigh.
“I haven’t had a nest of my own since I graduated high school. And I’ve never had anything like this,” I explain, motioning briefly to the omega paradise around me.
“But you’re an omega,” Oli replies, the sentence choppy.
Bobbing my head, I shrug. “Yeah, but for me, I didn’t really have strong nesting urges after I came into my designation. I had a reading nook in the library of my parents’ house that probably counted, but I didn’t have a heat until the summer after I graduated. My mom took me to a clinic so I could be monitored by professionals, and I was able to nest a little there.”
I look over to the bed, with its mountains of comforters, quilts, squishy pillows, and fuzzy throw blankets, sighing longingly. I would have killed for something like this during my first heat. Instead, I had sterile hospital blankets and paper pillows shoved into the bottom of the wardrobe in my room. And I couldn’t even close the door against the bright fluorescent lights because I had tubes and cords sticking out of me.
“It got better in college, once I got in with the omega clinic on campus. I didn’t have a dedicated space for me to use all the time, but I was able to use my own stuff to nest in the weeks leading up to my heat, and the nesting rooms were nice. But the last time I got to use one... well, you know what happened with me and Spencer. I didn’t have a heat after that and never had the instinct to nest,” I finish, eyes slipping out of focus as I take a few steps toward the bed.
Stooping low to move under the horizontal support beam and the bookshelf attached to it, I kneel on the edge of the mattress, sighing as I sink into the cloud-like softness. My hands glide over the covers, the ache of instincts long suppressed settling heavily in my lower belly. A whine escapes my throat, the years of trauma and self-imposed conditioning rallying to fight against the impulses. But then, a warm hand clasps the back of my neck, the alpha’s purr vibrating through the connection until I’m almost boneless.
“You don’t have to fight your nature, Tori. Not here. Not with us,” Oliver murmurs, his words distorted slightly as he continues to purr.
I nod slowly, my mind easing off to let my instincts have more breathing room. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I realize there aren’t any scent blockers in the air, only spearmint, blackberry, saffron, bergamot, cinnamon, and even a low undercurrent of spiced apple cider. I open my eyes as my head turns toward the source of the smells, tears blurring my vision as I realize that, tucked into cubbies along the wall, are piles of neatly folded clothes from each of my alphas.
Something inside me snaps awake, rising like a deep-sea monster toward the surface. An awareness of my body and my surroundings that I didn’t know was possible. Suddenly, the pillows that are so meticulously placed aren’t quite right, and the blankets aren’t spread correctly. It’s too orderly, too perfect. Not good enough, not for me and my alphas.
The hand around my nape squeezes once and then releases me, and I start to build my nest properly for the first time in my life.