Chapter 1
Chapter One
Freddie
ALMOST ONE YEAR LATER
There’s nothing quite like game day at the Kane & Co. Superdome.
Even from the parking lot, I can feel the energy buzzing in the air. In just a few hours, the cheers of the crowd will be roaring through our ears. The smell of concessions and hope will fill the stadium, fueling those of us on the field.
I’m already thinking of which celebration dance I want to do for touchdowns. Should I go a little Magic Mike and grind the grass? Maybe a tasteful twerk that will scandalize the older fans? The shopping cart is a classic, but it might not feel right in the moment.
The semantics of getting the players to pretend to be bowling pins while I roll through them are filtering through my head when a gruff voice interrupts.
“Neither of you remembered a coat?” Spencer asks as he shakes his head.
I’d think it’s unfair that he looks so effortlessly good-looking, but I know he meticulously picked out every piece.
He’s wearing a long wool coat over his suit, and I’m confident that once today’s “Game Day Fit” video is posted on social media, the comments will agree that he looks ridiculously handsome.
Last week, while scrolling through to see what people were saying about my alphas, I noticed several marriage proposals and many offers to take their bites. I got a little jealous and whiny, just so they’d both shower me with attention.
And a blow job.
Spencer is the head of our pack for many reasons, but his constant concern for our well-being is my favorite.
I look over at my other alpha, Zak, and notice he’s shivering despite the Sloths sweatshirt he’s wearing. He doesn’t really take the game-day outfits seriously, something we’ve heard the coaches complain about.
Knowing I’m about to spend the next several hours hot and sweaty, I embrace the gust of wind, which sends chills down my neck. Besides, the walk through the parking lot and into the stadium isn’t too long.
“You know I’m not one to throw on an extra layer unless it’s snowing,” I respond to Spencer’s question with a teasing grin.
Zak, on the other hand, is huffing his breath as if he’s walking through the tundra. He’s never been a fan of cold weather, which is why I’m as surprised as Spencer that he isn’t layered up better.
Spencer slows down his incredibly sexy walk to glance over his shoulder at us, taking in the sight of the teeth-chattering alpha.
“You’re both idiots,” he says with a flat expression before adding, “Zak, would you like to borrow my coat?”
“Umm, no, I’m good.” Zak tells him, but his steps get quicker.
“It’s cold and windy enough to have a weather advisory today,” Spencer says with a sigh.
I shrug. “We’ll be inside soon.”
Our pack alpha looks over at Zak, “You still haven’t found your coat anywhere after last winter?”
Zak wraps his arms around himself and hunches his shoulders. “Nope, and I thought it’d be warmer.”
Spencer looks at him pointedly before letting out a sigh that sounds a lot like he might be the only functioning adult here.
Hilarious, considering Zak is usually the one taking up the most parental role.
“There’s an easy solution here. We can afford another coat, so you don’t have to go through a second winter without one. ”
I nod along, just to appear sensible and agreeable. I like to keep my alphas on their toes like that.
Zak rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched. “It’s not a big deal. I have other coats.”
“Then where are they?” I ask.
“Somewhere.”
I snort. “Makes total sense.”
Zak doesn’t respond to me right away, nodding to the security guard at the players' entrance instead. “Have a good day, Hal.”
Hal gives him a silent salute in return, his eyes already checking out whoever is walking up behind us.
We continue the path to the locker room, the tunnel entrance designated for the team is a little dark and creepy, but much warmer than the outside temperature.
Zak shrugs one shoulder, finally continuing our conversation. “I like my old coat more than any of the other ones I own.”
Spencer’s gaze sharpens slightly. “The old one?”
“Yeah.”
“The one with holes in the pockets? Didn’t you buy that one during your first pro season years ago?”
Spencer is acting as if the coat is just a pile of rags, but we both know Zak impulsively spent a significant amount of money on his wardrobe that year, worried about his image.
Rookies tend to get judged pretty harshly by the media, and Zak has always leaned into the style of a stay-at-home Dad who’s about to start working on the lawn any second.
He’s more comfortable with himself these days. Playing for a team that doesn’t prioritize social media probably helps.
Zak smiles faintly, probably still reminiscing about the missing coat. “It was comfortable.”
I can’t help but smile, too.
I’ve heard all the wild stories of Zak’s first year playing professionally. We didn’t become a pack until a few years later, but I can still remember seeing snippets online about the slightly older tight end who takes his position on the team very seriously.
Spencer studies Zak for a beat longer, then softens just a fraction. “We can get you something comfortable.”
“I know.” Zak shrugs again. “I just keep thinking maybe the coat will reappear someday. Like I left it somewhere obvious, and I’ll remember. It’s dumb.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “That’s not dumb. I once spent three weeks convinced I’d lost my favorite sweatband, only to find it in my gym bag the whole time. If I didn’t have the familiar smell of bodily fluids around my forehead, I’d be upset too.”
Spencer looks unimpressed. “That is not the same thing.”
“It was devastating,” I insist with a gasp. I love grating on my alpha’s nerves. I’m doing my best to keep him humble that way.
Zak laughs under his breath, and the tension melts.
“Next week,” Spencer says over his shoulder as he walks ahead, “We’re buying you a coat if your beloved relic has not reappeared.”
Oh, a Spencer-sactioned-shopping trip? Count me in. Spoiling us with gifts is like foreplay for him, so the sex afterward is sure to include multiple orgasms for everyone. Maybe I’ll insist on a stop at a kink shop for a new toy.
Zak doesn’t argue this time. “Fine.”
We reach the fork in the tunnel where the players are separated from the rest of the staff. Left toward the coaches’ offices and equipment storage, right toward the locker rooms.
Spencer and Zak get ready in the locker room with the rest of the team, but I have my own dressing room.
Most of the players are alphas, so it’s safer for me to have my own separate space.
But because I’m a beta in a bonded pack, I luckily don’t have to be too far away.
The guys made sure I would have a private space for getting ready, and I always rejoin my alphas before warm-ups.
“Try not to freeze before kickoff,” I tell Zak.
“Try not to overheat before halftime,” Zak shoots back.
The possibility is less of a concern on days with weather like today, but I have had the displeasure of overheating a few times during hotter days in early fall.
Blowing him a kiss, I say, “It’s cute that you’re concerned, Zakyboo.”
He rolls his eyes but catches my air kiss anyway.
Spencer’s eyes flick between us. “We’ll meet back up like usual.”
I nod, “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Our private, pre-game cuddle-puddle ritual started long ago, and I bask in the glory of their arms every time. My alphas obviously play so well afterward because I’m their good luck charm.
I send them off with a wave and watch as they head toward the locker room, their voices fading as they round the corner.
Turning the opposite direction, I pass a couple of equipment carts and nod at a facilities worker before arriving at the door to my private room. Pulling my staff badge out of my pocket, I scan it to unlock the door and let myself in.
This space is small but sacred. I straighten the sign on the outside that says “Simon’s Sanctuary”. My sign’s been stolen numerous times as a prank or by adoring fans, but it’s always replaced, most likely by Spencer.
Once, a fan broke in trying to impersonate me, and Zak flipped out so badly that he personally oversaw the installation of the new keypad entry. The poor contractor who installed it had my alpha breathing heavily on his neck the entire time.
Stepping inside, I deeply inhale the very essence that is Simon.
In my quaint sanctuary, there’s a small bench on one wall and a long mirror on the other. There are hooks and hangers for my personal clothing. The most important part of the room, though, of course, is the clear display case that glistens under the fluorescent lights.
My face hurts from the wide smile that takes over, something that happens every single time I step into this room.
“My dear friend, have you missed me?” I ask lovingly, knowing that I’ll get no response, but determined to show the necessary respect nonetheless.
As I begin to strip, I continue with pleasantries.
“You look phenomenal. I always leave you in perfect condition, not a claw out of place.”
I change into my appropriate undergarments: thin brown tights and a short-sleeve compression shirt.
Standing in front of the case, I can’t help but admire him.
“Have you missed me as much as I missed you? It feels so wrong to be parted when we are clearly one person in two different clusters of flesh.”
Slowly, I open the glass door and run my hands over the fur that has no right being this soft and heavenly. The groan I let out is deep, my body overtaken by the feeling of merging two beings into one soul.
My hands hug the belly padding, inhaling and becoming what I was always meant to be.
The head sits on a shelf above the suit, its smile sparkling.
Two buck teeth and an adorable pink tongue are on display, the perfect combination of dashing and mysterious.
Friendly enough that children will want a hug, but handsome enough to make the chicks swoon when I throw them a finger gun and head nod.
His eyes are comically wide, the expression showcasing our fun and dazzling personality.
I look down and examine the feet. God, the feet. Large and absurd, but also incredibly powerful. Stomping around while swinging my belly, exerting true masculinity on the field, is my life’s calling.
My personal jersey hangs nearby, ready to slip over my fur and protect the suit’s innocence.
“You sweet, legendary icon,” I say as I examine the claws of chaos.
It’s time.
Piece by piece, I become the heart of a world-renowned brand.
In here, I step into the stadium’s pulse. The hype on the sidelines. The one who gets the crowd on their feet, who dances in the end zone, who riles up fifty thousand strangers without saying a single word.
I step into the padded legs, tugging them up with practiced ease.
“Let’s give them a show.”
I reach for the head last, settling it carefully over my own.
The world narrows to meshed, obstructed vision and muffled sound.
And just like that..
I am Simon the Sloth.