Chapter 4
CAELIA
Addie messaged me while I was sleeping, and I sigh in relief.
Addie
Ugh those assholes! To bigger and better things, babe!
I send her a quick message back, stretching as I sit up before I remember what I promised my dad yesterday.
Taking my time, I dress in black leggings with bows up the side, a red lace shirt that I layer with a shirt that asks where the ghouls are.
I also wash my face, brush my teeth, and then put on my makeup.
I use a lighter touch, but my lips are still a dark red. No matter what I do, my hazel eyes still manage to look doe-like and huge. Dangerous is relative, but I make sure to hide my new stun gun in my boots today. I trust my dad to keep me safe, but I know how quickly things can go pear shaped.
I take my alpha scent blockers and heat suppressant with a big gulp of water, hoping that the alpha pheromone blockers will help my anxiety. If it doesn’t, I may ask Dad about finding a doctor to prescribe medication for it.
I just want to be able to function like a normal freaking person. Knowing my best friend would tell me that normal is relative, I sigh and add a small amount of patchouli oil to my wrists.
Trudging down the stairs, I meet my dad at the bottom, who appears very amused in a pair of jeans and polo shirt.
“Is this the toned down version?” he asks.
“It is,” I admit. “Are we still going skating today?”
“Yes. Grab something for breakfast from the kitchen and let’s go. I have protein bars if you want to go that route,” he suggests.
There’s a small over-the-shoulder bag that I left in the kitchen, and I throw my phone inside of it as I grab a bottle of water and a banana.
It’s not a protein bar, but I don’t work out nearly enough. I know the dangers of cramping, and want to avoid that at all costs.
Dad suppresses a smile as he sees my food choices, shrugging. “You’re stubborn, but at least you’re eating. Let’s go.”
We left my car at the stadium last night, because I couldn’t drive. Getting into Dad’s pick up truck, I eat my breakfast as he drives.
“I’ve been thinking about your job search,” he says tentatively, waving at the guard at the gate as he continues through to park.
The stadium looms in front of me, and I take a breath, my hand on my sternum as I nod.
“Mmhmm?”
“I may have a short term solution,” Dad says. “Let me see how it pans out before I tell you.”
“Okay,” I say, only half listening.
“I have your skates. I packed them earlier along with mine. Your shoe size hasn’t changed, right?”
“No, it’s still the same,” I muse, twisting to see the bag he’s talking about is behind me.
“I have a sweatshirt in there too in case you get cold,” he says.
Ugh, he really is the best. Hopping out of the truck once he pulls into his space, I come around and walk next to him. Dad pulls his keys out of his pocket and lets us in, and I step inside, looking around for Gerry.
Dad locks up behind us, quiet as we walk to the rink. The cold is intense inside, but I know I’ll probably warm up as I skate. There’s no one around, and it helps my anxiety as he drops his bag on the bench and sits so we can put on our skates.
Even if it’s lonely, it’s harder for bad things to happen in that solace.
My skates fit perfectly, making me smile widely.
“So you have missed this,” he says, lacing up his skates.
“I’m definitely going to fall, but yes I have,” I admit.
“Nah, you’ve been on skates for too long to forget,” he chuckles, pushing open the door for me to skate out. “Go on.”
I’m a little wobbly as I tentatively skate off, but it’s easier by the time I’m pushing into a turn.
I can hear my dad behind me, he’s always had a very distinct skating technique as an ex-hockey player.
Just because he spends more time off rather than on the ice, doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have it.
That’s probably why he knew I would too.
“Look at who isn’t on the ground,” he crows, his voice booming and loud as always.
All I can do is smile at him as I skate, enjoying the way my muscles bunch and shift as I glide.
“You were right,” I admit. “There’s nothing like being on the ice.”
“As long as you don’t have to deal with anyone else,” he teases me.
“People are overrated,” I say.
“Okay, so we need to talk,” Dad says, lazily skating beside me.
“We do talk,” I remind him.
“You’re being a shit,” he says. “I know you refused the heat program at school. Want to tell me why?”
“I did. It didn’t feel right,” I say, lifting my shoulder up in a shrug. There’s no one here to eavesdrop, and he’s right. We do have to talk.
Somehow, it’s easier on the ice.
“For now, I’m on heat blockers,” I explain. “Being vulnerable in any capacity isn’t something I can do, Dad.”
“How long are you going to keep that up?” he asks. “I’ve heard that they’re not safe long-term, Cae.”
“Let’s just say I worked through college to pay for my meds, apartment, and food,” I explain. “Tutoring, barista jobs, anything with a flexible schedule. The content creator position was my first real job, and we know how that worked out.”
“Your degree is in communications, and you minored in graphic design, right?” Dad asks.
“Why are you leading the witness?” I ask, effortlessly turning to skate backwards. I guess there is something to muscle memory.
“Very funny. For some reason, I didn’t realize you were completely blocking any hint of your designation until yesterday morning. Hiding from the world doesn’t seem right, Cae.”
“It’s the only thing I can do,” I sigh, twirling around. It feels freeing, and I hate that my love for this has been tainted. I doubt I’ll get many opportunities to have the ice to myself.
I never want to use my relationship to the coach in a way that’ll piss people off either.
“I didn’t think I’d despise being an omega, but I do,” I confess. “Why couldn’t I be a beta? Then I could just live my life like normal.”
A discrete cough pulls my attention, and I slide to a stop. My father steps in front of me without thinking, staring at the woman watching us.
“Can I help you, Clarice?” he asks. “I’m having a conversation with my daughter, and the rink is currently closed.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize,” she says. “Is this the girl that made such a scene yesterday after practice?”
Cheeks burning, I touch Dad’s back. “I should go. Can you ask Gerry to walk me out, please?”
“Gerry isn’t your personal guard,” Clarice calls out, making me roll my eyes.
Skating out from the mountain of an alpha that is my father, I come closer to her.
“Maybe not, but Gerry insisted on it,” I state. “I forgot my knife, and Dad hasn’t taught me how to use the stun gun he bought me yet.”
I can practically feel how smug my dad is as I skate off the ice and sit down to change into my shoes.
“You’re a criminal,” she sniffs.
“A college graduate actually. Is that the same thing to you?” I snark, sliding a glance at my father to see if I’ve gone too far.
I can tell that he doesn’t really like her, and it helps me relax a bit. Clarice is a beta, has zero authority over me, and falls firmly under my ‘fair game’ column. I can speak my mind.
“You went to college?”
“She did, but I don’t tell you anything because it’s none of your damn business. Did you have an actual question for me?” Dad asks.
“I wonder if my father knows how you’re using his ice rink,” she says.
Oh. Fuck. That’s how I know her name. We’ve never met, but she’s the owner’s daughter.
“Friedrick knows I offered Caelia use of the ice when no one is using it,” Dad shrugs. “Feel free to find out for yourself.”
“Clarice!” a voice calls out. “Can you come help me with this paperwork while I talk to Coach?”
Dad shakes his head at me as he sits beside me, and I take a breath as I hurry to fix my boots. Clarice hurries away, and I hear footsteps come closer.
“It’s just the owner,” Dad whispers. “I wanted to run something by him.”
“This isn’t an empty building,” I grumble under my breath, despite his smile.
“Curtis,” a voice says, bringing my dad and I to stand and face him.
“Friedrick, this is my daughter, Caelia,” Dad introduces.
“Hi, I was hoping to meet you,” Friedrick smiles. He is tall, reminding me of someone who used to be athletic.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I say politely.
“Meh, I don’t really need all that,” he scoffs. “I bought this team because I was bored five years ago and love the rush of watching us win. I also gave your dad a chance because he’s really good at his job.”
“We get better with every game. There’s lots of new players this year,” Dad admits. “Caelia spotted a few things while she was watching the last practice, which means I can adjust things so that we play a better game.”
“Fantastic. I hear you work in content creation for social media,” Friedrick says. At my nod, he grins. “We haven’t been selling as many tickets as I’d like to see. I know the season is just ramping up, but I think we need to use a different strategy.”
“Oh?” I ask, feeling faint. I spot a trap. Dad’s palm envelops my elbow, encouraging me to stay standing. My knees are actually listening too.
Traitors.
“Why don’t you make content for the team? We need a social media manager, and I’ll pay you thirty-eight grand as a starting salary. Does that seem fair?” Friedrick asks.
What the hell is happening?
“Don’t you want to know what I’m capable of?” I ask weakly. “I could be terrible at this.”
“I found your social media handles this morning. You’ve posted a lot of your schoolwork there, and I’m impressed,” he says. “Besides, it’s my money, I’ll do what I please with it.”
“This means I have to attend games, right?” I ask, swallowing hard. Exposure therapy be damned, this is being thrown into the deep end of the ocean.
“Of course!” he chuckles. “I want people to want to attend games, and if they can get a sneak peak at our practices, so much the better.”
Fuckity fuck on a fuck stick.