Chapter 22
CONNOR
The echo of applause still pulses through my eardrums as I make my way out of Reverie Arena.
The familiar hiss and click of the Zamboni echoes somewhere behind the stands, smoothing over the jagged edges left by a hundred blades.
Out in the lobby, kids buzz past in glittery leotards, chattering in high-octane voices about the show. I can’t help but smile.
This is why I skate: the thrill of a show well performed and the inspiration—or at least entertainment—it gives to others.
My phone vibrates against my hip. Three quick messages all from Grace. I’m learning she’s a one-woman notification disaster, but one I really enjoy.
Grace: “If I bring enough pizza for the whole pack can we all hang out? Assuming you’re going to Zev and Fowler’s tonight after the show. If not, can we?”
I start to type back, then delete. I know she’s lurking just inside the staff exit, right where the corridor opens onto the parking lot. No matter how I pace my steps, we always seem to intercept each other as if fate can’t give us a chance to exist on our own without interference.
Grace had left the dressing room post-show in the first group of people. I had taken my time tonight as a month and a half of shows has really tired me out. But she’s already back with two entire pizza boxes in her arms.
I grin when I see her. “Looks like you decided for us.”
Grace grins right back at me. “Don’t think it’s possible for your pack to turn down pizza, that much I remember.”
She says it like we properly dated before rejecting her rather than having a few dates that first week of prep camp before burning any connection down. At least that seems behind us now.
“You’d be correct. Here, let me take those.” I grab the pizzas from her. “I can drive us?”
“Sure!”
We walk in companionable silence to my car.
I pop the pizzas onto the roof so I can open the passenger door for her.
Grace slides in, and I prop the pizza boxes on her knees.
As soon as I’m in and the radio’s on, Grace starts humming along to the music playing.
I don’t quite understand how she has so much energy after not just tonight but so many weeks back-to-back.
We take off toward Zev and Fowler’s place.
Zev’s car is already in the driveway when we get to the house.
He’s standing on the porch, posture radiating chill even though his scent—deep, bittersweet chocolate—hits me from ten yards away.
He’s wearing a faded T-shirt and loose shorts, and has an ice pack taped to his knee, which means the high schoolers played dirty again.
“Behold!” Grace announces, sweeping the pizza boxes in a dramatic arc. “We bring offerings from the outside world.”
Zev grins wide. “Hail, delivery queen.” He snags the boxes from me and pops it open right there on the porch, inhaling like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “Damn, it’s still hot. Come on in.”
We follow into the house, past the kitchen and on into the living room where Fowler’s been laid up for a while now. A gaming controller sits on the couch beside him along with several pillows and sports drinks.
He looks up when we enter. “Now this is the excitement I keep telling Zev we need here.” He waves a hand dismissively toward me. “Ever since Connor moved out to ‘stay with his castmates during Reverie’ it’s been so quiet.”
Grace smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t believe for a single moment that any space with you and Zev in it is quiet.”
“Fair,” Zev says. “Pizza?”
“Yes, please,” Fowler replies.
We divvy out the pizza and we eat together as night finishes falling.
One by one, porch lights flicker to life down the street.
Grace demolishes an impressive amount of pizza the way all athletes do post games or performances before leaning back against the couch.
Her stretches her arms overhead and sighs contently.
But in leaning back, her shirt rides up just enough to show the pale strip of her stomach.
I avert my gaze. I can handle Grace’s constantly alluring scent. But seeing even that much of her skin that’s normally covered is sending all the inappropriate images to my mind.
“Fowler has got two more weeks of physical therapy sessions,” Zev says, as if resuming a conversation that never actually started. “After that, he’s cleared for light training.”
Grace sits up again, hiding away the treacherous view. “That’s awesome!” She grins at Fowler. “You must be ready to get back to some amount of normalcy.”
Fowler’s expression remains neutral, but the way his fists clench at his sides betrays him. “We’ll see what Captain Vega says. My health is one thing, but I’ve not made the best decisions.”
Zev sets down his plate. “Fowler means he’s been an adrenaline junkie too long. Finally had enough?”
These two talk more like brothers than long-time friends. I’m happy to see Zev forcing accountability on Fowler, though, given Fowler’s the reason we all left the NHL.
Fowler sighs. His gaze falls to his broken leg. “For the most part.”
He leaves it at that. I wonder if this experience is enough to keep Fowler from going back to firefighting entirely. It’s a good fit for him, but insanely dangerous. But I can’t see him coaching kids like Zev does now.
The evening passes easily. It’s just like the hospital room with all four of us there. A month ago, there’d be so much tension here that we’d suffocate. Now? It’s like this has always been. Grace with us. Four of us under one roof.
It feels like Grace has accepted us back despite not saying anything on that front.
Before I can bring it up, Grace’s phone rings. It’s Charlotte, although I don’t hear the conversation. It ends with Grace packing up her things.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte needs me,” she says. “She’ll be here in five.”
Concern whittles through me. “Is everything okay?”
Fowler sits up a little straighter hearing Charlotte’s name. “Is it those assholes?”
Grace shakes her head, but her smile is tight. “She just needs help with something for the next performance. But thank you for letting me come visit and hang out. I…” She trails off. Her lips part as if she’ll speak but then she shuts them again.
I know what she means to say.
“It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to—”
Grace looks at each of us in turn. “I’m just happy things feel normal between us, and that you’re feeling much better, Fowler. That’s all.”
“We’re happy that’s the case, too,” Fowler says.
But it’s left there for the night. I know I’m afraid to push too far, too quickly. I can’t imagine Zev or Fowler wants to risk our chances either. So instead of diving more into what Grace may or may not be feeling, we let it be until Charlotte’s here to pick up Grace.
Zev gestures toward the door once Grace is gone. “So like, she’s not still mad at us anymore, right? Because she’s been around so much.”
I incline my head toward Fowler. “Maybe she just likes tending to the wounded.”
“Hah, hah,” says Fowler. “No, you idiot. Zev’s right.”
“I know.” Probably better than both, since Grace kissed me. “I kind of wish she’d clearly state it, though. So we know where the boundaries are.”
“Think they’re still where they were,” Fowler says. “In the very least, they’ll stay there until she moves differently.”
“Maybe we should just risk it and ask her directly,” Zev says. “If she says no, then it’s a no, and we move on.”
Right, like that worked the first time. But we haven’t pressured her. Not like that pack Fowler told us was stalking Charlotte.
“Let’s not ask her out, per se,” I offer.
Fowler shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “No?”
I sink into the couch and rest my head against the back. “We say that if she wants to give us a second chance, that we’ll prove we’ve changed. Leave the ball in her court.”
Zev and Fowler nod in agreement. It lets Grace decide without the pressure of a date hanging over her head. And if she says no? Then the chapter is closed for good and we’ll just have to deal with it.
We wouldn’t be the first alpha pack to lose an omega. Surely we won’t be the last.
With no disagreement, the path forward is decided. All that’s left is to see if Grace is open to giving us that second chance.