Chapter Six
Izzy
Bacon sizzles in the pan the next morning. After possibly my best sleep in weeks, I awoke spry, refreshed, and excited for the day.
It has nothing to do with an amazingly satisfying night. None whatsoever.
Get that out of your head, Izzy.
I have a plan. I execute the plan.
Operation Justice for Puck Bunnies starts in earnest.
If Brad thinks he can ignore my–er, our antics, he’s sorely mistaken. The guys and I will make ourselves known. I’m gonna throw so much at him he’ll be crawling to me on hands and knees by the end of the week.
As I flip a pancake in another pan, I peck out a few more posts on my fourteenth username on the hockey fan site. I know Brad’s seen some of them because he’s reacted to the posts using his secret account and even replied a few times on his own behalf.
The responses are frustrated and edgy, so I know I’m striking center mass. He even argued with one of my fake accounts for a solid 20 minutes of constantly flying comments. I contemplate buying a disposable phone so we can gang up on him.
The guys probably wouldn’t like me doing this, but it has to help their cause too. Every day, Brad gets a healthy dose of humility and fair criticisms he could take to heart to make him a better captain. What he does with that information is up to him.
My mom messaged me earlier, so I also shoot her back a placating response. They’re so overbearing. Yes, I am an omega and the only one of their four kids. They worry but don’t need to. I’m all grown up.
“Bunny?” Mason calls out. “Are you feeding me again? You know that turns me on and I only have time for either food or sex.”
Vin mentioned at dinner that they had meetings this morning, so I set an early alarm. Trick snuck out when it went off, giving unnecessary apologies about not wanting to cause problems with the others. I needed time to do my face and get ready for work anyway.
I don’t particularly care if Vin and Mason find out he came to see me last night. I’m not ashamed of what we did.
Whether Trick’s uncomfortable about it is between him and them. Their dynamic is theirs to manage. While I don’t want to fuck with it, I also can’t be responsible for it. Trick’s a grown adult. A very grown adult. It’s not my job to keep him in line.
“Are you saying you’d rather eat bacon than pussy?” I call back.
He strides into the room in slick slacks and a button-down. Wet hair is combed back on his undercut and he still has shaving cream on his ear. He crowds me in, like he’s physically unable to give me space, and wraps his arms around me from behind so I can continue flipping pancakes.
“Maybe I can swing both. I’m very talented,” he murmurs in my ear. I use the kitchen towel to remove the shaving cream and then hit him in the face with it.
When he doesn’t back off, I check his crotch hard with my ass. He dodges away before I can repeat it.
“Unsportsmanlike conduct, Izzy. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be hungry this morning.”
“I’ll eat after you leave.”
Trick and Vin join us, both dressed in business casual. Vin’s got a stuffed duffel slung over his shoulder.
At the sight of them both, Mason’s grin spreads with malicious glee.
Uh-oh.
“I meant that you can’t be hungry after how full you were of Trick last night.”
A long, harsh beat of silence follows while I wait for a reaction.
Wyatt clears his throat. His eyes swing anxiously between the three of us, and I know he has to be calculating whether to tell them everything.
“Well—” is all he gets out before I cut him off.
“What exactly do you think you heard?” I ask briskly.
Please, please let it be innocent. Or, at least as innocent as fucking around can be.
“The sound of hypocrisy, my sexy bunny.” He swings to Trick. “Not that I blame you, but you gave both Vin and me such shit for spending any time with her at all and you’re sneaking into her room at night?”
He clenches his jaw, and I can see as plain as day he’s about to out me to the two of them.
“I invited him,” I spit out. “In a text message. I wanted to talk to him about plans for Brad-otage, but one thing led to another.”
“You ended up moaning for an alpha loud enough to wake me up next door.”
“Look, we never explicitly said it was off the table. You fingered me in front of Vin for fuck’s sake.”
“You did what?” Vin demands, but I don’t respond to it.
“I’m pretty sure that even after I go back to Brad, he won’t be faithful, so it only makes sense that I can have some fun too.”
“First, don’t commit sex acts in front of me without my consent,” Vin snaps. “Second, I don’t understand why you want Brad at all. If one of my sisters brought home a guy like that, I wouldn’t stop punching until I could see the back of his throat through the hole. A million guys would drop to their knees for you. You deserve better, Izzy.”
“First,” Mason interjects, “it was your idea. I just improvised for a better performance.” He adds a lascivious grin. “And second, I’d drop to my knees right now if you want, bunny. Vin, you cool with watching me eat a different breakfast?”
Vin chucks the duffel filled with his goalie pads at him, but he masterfully slaps it away.
“That’s sweet,” I interrupt before it can escalate further. “But Brad’s it for me. He can provide for me and understands me in a way that almost no one else does. I’ve had time to come to terms with how he is and I’m willing to sacrifice. I hope you can understand. And also, I’d hope you’d talk to your sisters before assaulting their boyfriends.”
“He’s not the only one who can understand you,” Trick adds. His jaw sets like he’s daring me to admit my designation to the others.
To tell them or not to.
The options weigh heavily in my mind. I hadn’t contemplated it, not even after last night. I assumed that Trick would also want to keep it quiet so the others don’t get attached or pie-in-the-sky ideas.
The suppressants work well enough that I’ll be long gone before my next heat.
There’s no need to tell them.
And scared, anxious voices needle my mind that no one can know at all. The sounds of my mom and dads cautioning me are somehow both a whisper and a cacophony.
No, I can’t tell them, even as Trick wills me to admit it with insistent green eyes.
“I’ve invested a lot in the captain of the team, and I’m not willing to give it up without a fight,” I reply.
See, Trick? Remember why I’m doing this?
I don’t have a choice. It’s either Brad or the Admin.
It’s all fine for Trick to be judgmental. I’ll never have what they have. Submitting to the Admin will mean harsh penalties disguised as concern for my well-being. They’ll continue to live in this gorgeous house full of warmth and friendship. I had that with Jolie and I’ll figure out a way to get it again.
Once the guys disappear out the door, I scarf down my own breakfast and head to work.
***
Mason brings home success stories about Brad throwing a tantrum when he sees Trick’s neck all scratched to hell.
By the end of my second week at the house, we’ve settled into a comfortable routine.
Breakfast is hot and ready for all four of us to inhale on our way out the door. Morning skate is later than my start time, and I switch my work schedule around to accommodate the guys’ needs.
Most days, I make it home with plenty of time to cook up a hearty dinner that we eat together in the stiff dining room they clearly never used before I arrived.
I also collect their rancid base layers and toss it all into never-ending rounds of laundry, then keep the sink clear and ensure their bathrooms and beds remain relatively clean.
They’d only asked for some help around the house, but it’s a sweet home and so I want to be sweet to it.
And them. Especially them.
Exposure to the constant stream of male pheromones is starting to both dull the edge of their proximity and also make me more attuned to it.
It’s like a healing scar, the tissue tough and durable in most circumstances, but then sometimes I twist or bend and the phantom pain lances through me. I hide it well enough, I think, but it’s an adjustment being around three men constantly.
Sometimes, it’s just Vin and me watching old games or movies on the couch. He pecks at his laptop, I scroll on my phone, and neither of us could be happier. The beta embodies come-what-may calm.
More often than not, though, Vin and Trick choose to be near each other. Trick insists on keeping Mason in check. They feed off each other’s energy and their scents entwine until my skin is alive and my face is numb.
That first night, I had to escape before the end of the first period. The guys got too enthusiastic about a hat trick and my brain spiraled as I watched them excited and screaming at the screen.
I don’t know why it’s hot watching them all argue about the game and make critiques of the plays, or how I’m absolutely certain Mason sees how fun it is for me and knows I’m running away to avoid his sly smiles, but I made it through the whole game last night so that’s progress.
They’ve been so sweet. Spending a little time in their spaces, the surfaces and fabrics coated in their mix of smokey, sweet, and savory scents is my own slice of heaven. I’ll admit when I’m alone with my thoughts that I like leaving them a little bit of me behind too. It’s a good idea to get them at least a little attached, but it’s a fine line to walk.
Mason leaves his tablet unlocked with no pin, because of course he does, so he’s basically asked me to snoop and figure out what he has my number saved as in his contact list.
It’s an underwhelming, “LOML.” Lust of my life. I was expecting so much worse than a call back to our first few days of texting.
I don’t really know what I was expecting. Jolie made me promise multiple times that at the first sign of danger that I’d head straight for her new place.
I haven’t found the courage to tell her that Trick knows.
Trick knows.
Even now, the awareness that Trick knows my designation is the tense shade to every conversation. When we’re alone, it’s worse because I can tell he wants to touch me. He leans in too much. And I let him for a full second too long before reasserting space.
He hasn’t shown up at my door again. Whether he is afraid to or thinks I don’t want him to, it’s for the best.
I can’t lead the man on.
Yes, I want him to want me here, but also I don’t want him to refuse to let me leave. I want his...
No, it’s not just how he made me feel. I do want him, all of him, but I need to be able to walk out the door when my captain is ready.
I’ve contemplated replacing Brad with each of them again and again, but even Patrick Wyatt isn’t enough for the Admin. He’s a single alpha with only as much media presence as a pro hockey player can get while avoiding attention. It’s simply not his way. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, every bit the opposite of Brad.
Trick and Vin want to form a pack, that’s obvious, but they haven’t yet. Joining an established, wealthy pack with influence would be enough, but the Wyatt Pack hasn’t even marked its first member.
The Admin won’t be impressed by future possibilities, not when I’m nearing 30. It’ll be bad enough I’m not in their records, haven’t had the training, have been on suppressants, and am not following the procedure. They’ll never make an exception unless it’s truly, well, exceptional.
A love story I can sell about fated mates.
Come Friday morning, the boys are awake for an early skate and Mason slips me a plastic badge envelope with a piece of paper in it.
“What’s this?”
“Family practice is today. Thought you might want to come. Cheer for your boys where everyone can see. The pass will get you in.”
It isn’t normal in the league, but every other week the Cannons open a practice to friends and family of the team.
The life of a professional athlete is demanding on time, emotions, and body, and letting packs in to see what it’s all for is good for morale for everyone. There’s less animosity when a player is off the ice for a heat or to support another pack member when the team is one big family.
The rectangular plastic envelope is heavy in my hands. I don’t normally have my own pass. The times I’ve come to family practices, it’s been because Brad wants to go out afterward and he lets me in through the back. It’s what all the bunnies do.
This badge has my name printed on it and everything.
“What time?” I ask.
“Starts at three. Get there early or Kenricki’s kids will eat all the food.”
“Well, he has eight of them.”
Mason groans again. “How many times do I have to tell you? You can’t sexily taunt me with your hockey knowledge before practice. I’m gonna be hard all day.”
“Har har. I don’t get off work until three, but I’ve never even seen the food so it’s no big loss.”
“You’ve—”
“Izzy?” Vin calls out from the laundry room. “Do you know where the extra sports bottles are? The ones with the team logo on them.”
“In here,” I reply and slide open a drawer in the dead space of the kitchen. The little items get lost so easy. I filled the cabinet with their spare bottles, mouthguards, and tape. So. Much. Tape.
“Hey, that’s smart,” Vin says as he comes in the room. He snatches up the bottle and points it at me. “You’re pretty good at all this organization stuff. You could sell it as a service to the single guys on the team. It’d enrage el capitan.”
Could I go to other players’ houses? Other single players? The idea raises my hackles.
Vin’s smile spreads on his face. He probably thinks I’m going to take him up on the offer, but I have zero interest.
“Thanks. Big families mean space is precious,” I reply. “You three are spoiled for storage here. I’ll have to think about the rest.”
Vin’s grin remains despite the gentle rebuff, but Trick comes in before he can respond further.
“Let’s go,” he barks out.
Vin mouths at me to think about it before he disappears through the garage door with the two alphas.
It’s a nice idea, but bringing even more attention to a beta shacked up with three pro hockey guys might not be the best.
No one’s taking my place with the guys seriously... yet. The ruse can’t jeopardize my privacy, at least not until it’s run its course.
With the badge in hand, I head up to my room to pack something more appealing for the game.
Vin is absolutely right. It’s time to remind Brad what he’s missing.