Never Trust A Hockey Player (Breakouts & Baddies #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Lana

My footsteps echoed sharply through the silent halls. The house was too fucking quiet… again.

It didn’t used to be like this. Once, this place was alive. A packhouse full of noise, warmth, and men I called family. We had future plans. We even talked about adopting a dog.

Now, it was hollow, the echoes of our life together louder than their absence.

Grief settled sharp and sudden in my chest. I missed them. More than they deserved.

The laughter, the shouting, the camaraderie. All the things that made our messy life together a bit more perfect.

They were nothing but ghosts now.

Fever pulled at my senses, my skin already too hot and uncomfortable. My omega stirred, her anxiety feeding mine until it was almost unbearable. Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I couldn’t break yet.

Not because I was shielding the pack from what I was going through; I simply refused to cry for them again.

Our bond was too thin now, nearly nonexistent. They left me behind.

Fuck hockey players and their egos.

Never again.

As I stumbled down the hallway, my eyes slipped over each door of the packhouse. Silence greeted me behind every single one. Not even their scents lingered anymore.

This was the house we built together. The one they promised we’d live in and make a home out of. I protested that it was far too big, but they’d reassured me it would be perfect.

They were always doing that, talking me down until I gave in, explaining why their opinions were right. Was there ever really space for me in their lives, or was I just a prize to be won? The hockey princess they were able to gloat about in their circles but they didn’t really care about.

I hadn’t seen my pack in months. Every text went unanswered. Calls ignored. Returned calls cut off swiftly because someone needed them.

It felt like they didn’t even want to talk to me anymore.

What changed, other than getting bumped to the starting lineup? We should have been celebrating their success together.

My throat ached as I bit back fresh sobs. I stumbled farther into the house, toward the nest that no longer felt like mine.

I was so damn tired.

Tired of being alone.

Tired of wishing they’d show up.

Tired of the false excuses.

There was no comfort to be found here as my heat tightened its grip. Letting it go this long was solely on me. I should have taken suppressants when they didn’t return my call the first few days leading up to it.

I guess this was my one last attempt at proving they cared. Their answer was loud and clear.

If I make it out of this week alive… it’s over.

Forever.

I don’t believe in second chances.

A sharp cramp nearly buckled my knees, but I forced myself to keep moving, stumbling down the hall while silently convincing myself it was just a little farther. I could see the door to my nest ahead.

Just a few more feet.

Relief almost dropped me to the floor when I finally reached it. With shaking hands, I shoved the door open. The scent that greeted me was mine, and that was when the tears finally broke free.

One last chance, my omega practically demanded. I obliged her, pulling out my phone to call, even though I already knew the outcome.

My fingers shook as I started dialing. My heart splintered into a million pieces as it rang endlessly. I hung up and called the next name, giving each of them one final chance. My heart and omega prayed they would answer this time.

Maybe they would finally make this right.

They knew my heat was coming. It was on our shared calendar, and I reminded them on the phone only a week ago. Their manager interrupted that call like he always did, but it was no excuse. They probably had no idea, even though my heat came like clockwork twice a year.

I spent years making excuses in my head for men who didn’t deserve them.

My strength gave out as the last call went to voicemail. I collapsed to the floor of my nest, curling into a ball as the pain crashed over me. Bile rose in my throat, but I didn’t let it break free… not that I’d eaten enough for it to matter.

Truth be told, I hadn’t done enough to take care of myself. It felt pointless. I should have never trusted hockey players with my heart.

Apparently, my parents’ relationship was the exception. They spent years balancing careers and pack life, and they never once neglected my mom.

My brother and me? A little. They were very absorbed in each other, and we were along for the ride. That didn’t mean I felt unloved.

Not like this. The pain I felt now was incomparable. It was the final dying breath of a pack. We had five amazing years in the beginning. The honeymoon stage that seemed like everything was perfect gave way to silence.

I grew up in the hockey world; I knew what I was signing on for. These stretches, however, were not how hockey packs were supposed to be. They could have a career and a pack. The AHA had ensured that was possible.

This was a choice only my pack made. They chose a sport over their mate.

My chest cracked wide open as that realization sank into my bones. It fundamentally changed me and my omega.

How could we trust anyone again? We knew how it felt to be on top of the world, then how jarring it was when that light slowly faded into darkness.

Maybe my pack was never as worthy as I thought they were.

My body ached from head to toe. I curled tighter into a ball, trying to breathe through the fresh wave of warmth and pain, but it was all too much. My mind started to fog as the heat took hold.

The heartbreak hurt almost as badly as my body at this point.

In my mind, I could see my pack. I could feel their touches. We spent so long together that it was ingrained in me, yet now I wasn’t sure I ever really knew them.

Because the men I bonded with, the ones I gave my life to, would never let me hurt like this.

I couldn’t remember the last real date we went on. The last day we spent together seemed so far away now. Five minute phone calls every few weeks weren’t enough for any omega. I had no clue how they justified it, but I knew I no longer trusted them. Not with my heart or my heat.

My pack took everything from me. I followed them to college, stuck around through the early grueling years of hockey, supported them in everything they did. When they insisted I take the first few years off from work so we could focus on our pack, I listened.

Now, I just wanted to go back home to my family. First thing I would do when I got home would be to get on blockers. I never wanted to go through another heat like this again.

The fog finally descended completely. Pain exploded through me, swallowing everything else. All I knew was an aching emptiness, and something inside of me slowly shifting.

There was nothing I could do to stop it. There was no way to fix this now.

I prayed they would prove me wrong. Even if they showed up late, at least they’d be here. They could take care of me, the way they promised they always would.

That hope slowly died as I passed out from the pain.

Days dragged by as my consciousness faded in and out, my omega never feeling safe enough to truly give into the heat. I endured pain I couldn’t escape.

This had to be hell.

There was no other explanation.

When I woke fully, I had no idea how much time had passed. My body was in pure agony, my skin raw from days of soaking through the bedding with sweat and slick. I was so weak and stiff that even shifting was impossible without more pain.

Worst of all, there was no sign of my pack.

They had truly abandoned me. Left me to suffer.

My lips were cracked and bleeding. I dragged my tongue across them but it barely helped. My mouth was just as dry.

Something was wrong. I needed help, but I had no one.

My phone was beside me where it had been for days, long dead now.

For hours, I stayed there, working up enough energy to curl my fingers around the dormant device.

With my free hand, I gripped the damp sheets and pulled myself forward. Pain lanced through me, ripping a cry from my throat. My body protested every movement, but survival kept me going.

I moved inch by inch, teeth clenching hard enough that my jaw protested.

I’d gone more than a week without food or water. If not for my biology, I’d already be dead.

There was nothing left for my body to draw from. Tears stung my eyes, but without moisture, nothing could fall.

Just outside the door, the pain overwhelmed me. My eyes slipped closed before I could stop them.

When they opened again, minutes or hours later, I continued my slow crawl forward.

Fear surged through me as I dragged myself from room to room.

Relief nearly shattered me completely when I spotted my charging cord dangling from the wall. I wouldn’t even have to stand.

The minutes crawled by as I waited for my phone to finally respond. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, gritty and burning. If I passed out again without calling for help, I knew I wouldn’t wake up.

“Please,” I whispered. My voice was hoarse and hollow. I knew I would only get one shot at this.

Calling an ambulance should have been my first instinct, but I was terrified I couldn’t answer their questions. Instead, I called my brother. He was a few hours away, but he had all my information. He’d get me help.

Conrad was the one person in my life who had never let me down.

No matter where he was, I knew he’d answer.

The screen finally lit up, and a dry sob ripped from my chest. My shaking fingers managed the call, his face filling the screen. I didn’t realize how long it had been since talking to someone else, but hearing his voice was the lifeline I needed.

“Baby sister!” Conrad’s smile disappeared the second he saw me. Panic took over. “Lana, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No,” I croaked, shuddering violently now as my body started to shut down. “I need help, Conrad. I don’t want to die.”

I was shaking too hard to see him clearly now, but the rumble of his voice kept me from falling asleep. I clung to it like the last thread of hope it was.

Time had no meaning anymore. I was floating somewhere in between, barely surviving.

Voices echoed in the house as people rushed through the cavernous halls, the ones that felt like a mausoleum now. Fancy, cold, and devoid of life. I was just the newest victim.

“Mrs. Flynn?” a new voice asked. It was unfamiliar.

When no words escaped me, Conrad answered, his voice sharp with panic.

Questions bounced around me as they went back and forth. The only words that registered were heat and alone.

Then the darkness won.