Chapter 1 #2
My mom and stepfather got married when I was thirteen and bought this place together, moving my stepbrother and me in with them. They formed this perfect little family, at least on paper. In real life, I’ve always felt out of place with them. Like I didn’t belong.
My mother is a world-famous fashion designer; my stepfather is the coach for the San Diego Royal Alphas, a KP hockey team.
I grew up in the spotlight. With a famous mother and stepfather, it came with the territory, which is why my mother controlled me so much. She tried to make me into the perfect little mini version of her.
My mother isn’t an evil person. Growing up, she never hit me and always gave me everything I could have ever needed in life. I wanted for nothing, but it came with expectations: Be a good girl. Get good grades. Dress to her standards. Don’t do drugs. Don’t party.
Be the perfect daughter.
But, hey, at least I got to live in a massive house with the beach just below the cliffs, right?
“Damn.” The Uber driver whistles as she leans forward to look out the window through the gate’s bars. “Do you live here or are you visiting someone?”
My brows furrow. “That’s a bit of a personal question.”
“Sorry.” She smiles politely. “I just haven’t been around these parts before. Most people with this kind of money don’t Uber. I’m sure they have drivers or whatever.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not like most people,” I laugh. “You can just let me out here.”
She looks disappointed, like she wanted to drive in and get a better look.
I know better than to let strangers onto the property.
One time, we let a delivery driver drop off a package, and a few days later, there were photos of our house splashed all over the tabloids.
The driver tried to spin some story about having an affair with my mother, and the photos were apparently his proof.
People will do anything for a quick buck and a moment in the spotlight.
I guess now I can kind of sympathize with them on the money part. I never knew how expensive it could be for the average person to just get by.
It gave me a whole new outlook on how privileged my life has been.
After grabbing my bags from the trunk, I make sure to tip the girl well as she drives off.
“There goes the last of my money,” I sigh.
Punching in the gate code, I make my way down the long path with my bags in hand to the front door.
I’m sweating and out of breath by the time I get there. Groaning, I sit on the front step and take a moment to rest.
“You could have buzzed the front of the house. I would have come to help you, Miss Ashford.” My head snaps around, finding Alfred, my parents’ Beta butler, standing in the doorway.
“Alfred!” A wide smile stretches across my face. I get to my feet and rush forward, wrapping my arms around the elderly man.
He chuckles softly, hugging me back. He smells the same, like clean linen and a hint of mint.
“Welcome home, Miss Ashford.”
“Addie, or Addison. You know this, Alfred.” I laugh.
“Welcome home, Addie.” This time his tone is softer, warmer. I almost want to cry.
I’ve known this man as long as I’ve been alive. He worked for my parents and came to work here after my mother moved.
He spent more time with me than my mother did. He knows me better than she ever did, too.
“It’s... strange.” I peek over his shoulder, getting a look inside.
“It hasn’t been the same without you here. Let me grab your bags, and I’ll take them to your room.”
At the mention of my room, a burst of excitement hits me. Alfred chuckles as I take off through the marble foyer, up the grand staircase two steps at a time, and down the hallway. My heart is pounding when I stop in front of the door.
With a shaking hand, I grip the knob and slowly open the door.
I choke on a happy laugh when I find my room exactly how I left it. Taking a few steps inside, my gaze slowly takes it all in, tears springing to my eyes.
Everything is still here. The posters, photos of my friends, the stuffies I was obsessed with collecting, and my baby pink bed set.
But what has the tears falling and my smile stretching even wider is the desk against the far left corner of my room.
“It’s been a while,” I whisper, running my fingers along the top of my gaming monitor.
For my fourteenth birthday, my stepfather had a custom-built, pink gaming PC built for me.
My mother didn’t approve, but I got to keep it anyway. It became my favorite thing in the world and where I’d spend all my free time. Where I met them. My found family, my safe place.
“So you really are back.” A low, gruff voice causes me to jump.
My eyes snap to my bedroom door, lips parting in shock when I see who it is.
My stepbrother, Damien Clark.
He’s changed a lot since the last time I saw him. He’s no longer the twenty-one-year-old college hockey player I knew when I left this house.
He’s grown up. A lot.
Tall, over six feet for sure. He still has the same blonde hair, but it’s grown out now, giving him more of a shaggy look.
He’s always been fit, but dear god, the man has filled out.
His arms are crossed, making his muscles bulge, and he’s dressed in a black t-shirt that hugs his body perfectly. My eyes travel down, stopping when I see he’s wearing grey sweatpants.
Every Omega’s kryptonite.
A low, irritated growl emanates from his chest, causing my eyes to dart back up to his. My cheeks start to heat at the realization that I was checking him out.
“Why are you back?” he asks, eyes narrowed.
“What?” I blink a few times, still a little stunned by all that’s changed.
“Why are you here? Back home? After years of being away, avoiding us like the plague, why did you come back now, huh?”
The anger in his voice catches me by surprise. He looks at me like he wants me anywhere but here. I hate that a pang of hurt fills me at the thought.
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly going dry. “I had nowhere else to go,” I admit, surprising myself.
“So you come crawling back to mommy?” he snorts. “You’ve always acted like you were better than this life. Yet, you have no shame coming back when you have no other choice.”
“Exactly.” The shock wears off, and is replaced by anger.
“I had no other choice.” Glaring at him, I stomp over to the door.
“I’ve never once thought I was too good for anything, and you know it.
You know why I left, why I had to go. So don’t come in here making me out to be the bad guy when you damn well know it’s her who is. ”
His nostrils flare, his blue eyes locked on mine. I lift my chin, holding my ground. I’ve never tolerated his bullshit before, and I sure as fuck am not going to start now.
“Whatever,” he spits, sneering down at me. “This is my home, and I’m not going to have you fuck with my life by being back. Stay away from me, Addie. Got it?”
“Crystal clear, Demon,” I snark back. Then I grab the door and slam it shut in his face.
My chest heaves, and blood boils as I stand there staring at the closed door.
How fucking dare he! What the fuck did I ever do to that asshole?
You would think that six years apart would have been enough time to put whatever issues he had with me to rest. I guess not.
To think we used to be friends is laughable now.
When I first moved in, Damien was nice. He was sweet and kind and genuinely seemed to accept me as his new little sister.
He’s three years older than me, so of course, things were different. He had his friends, and hockey was his life. But it never stopped him from hanging out with me when we were both home, or from him checking in on me when he knew our parents were gone.
Eventually, there was a shift in our dynamic. After he presented as an Alpha, he changed. It’s to be expected, but he became more distant, colder. We went from being friends to me being his annoying little sister, and then to someone he wanted nothing to do with.
It crushed me because I was stupid enough to think he cared. It wasn’t until then that I realized that I cared too much. I cared so much because I ended up having a crush on him like some dumb, teenage girl.
After he left for college, I only saw him for holidays or special events.
His whole world revolved around hockey and his goal to play for the KP, and he made it.
While he was off living his dream, I moved away to live mine.
I remember the last time I saw him. It was a few mornings after I presented as an Omega. I was heading to the airport, ready to start over and move away for school. I was in the backseat of the town car, driving away.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Alfred waving goodbye.
Damien was standing behind him, his face a dark shadow. There was so much hatred in his eyes. That image haunted me for weeks.
I should have known he’d move back home. He was always close with his dad. They both loved all the same things and bonded over hockey. His father was his number one supporter, and they were—are—best friends.
What surprises me is that he hasn’t found a pack or an Omega.
I suppose it’s not uncommon for Alpha hockey players to remain single, though. Professional hockey is a gruelling sport. They’re always practicing, pretty much live at the rink, and then there’s all the travelling.
It can’t be easy for the players to have a pack at home, hardly being able to see them, let alone spend any quality time with them.
Maybe he should get an Omega. Maybe then he wouldn't be such a raging asshole.
A moment later, there’s a knock at my door. For a second, I think it’s Demon back to be a dickhead.
It’s not. Alfred drops my bags off and asks if I want anything to eat. Politely declining, because I’m not really in the mood to stomach anything after the encounter with my stepbrother, I close the door again and push my bags off to the side.
My attention is back on my computer. My bad mood vanishes as I rush over to sit down.
Pressing the power button, the computer hums to life. I let out an excited giggle.
It still runs just as smoothly as it did before. I’ve missed this computer. I bought a gaming laptop when I moved, wanting to make sure I was able to keep playing with my online friends, but it wasn’t the same.
With trembling fingers and a racing heart, I grab my gaming headset and put it on. It's a lot like my cat ear headset, only this one is better quality and has a mic.
Clicking on the Twisted Valley icon, the game begins to load. When I join the lobby, my stomach swoops because I see that Waffle and Grim are online.
“No fucking way!” Grim laughs. “If it isn’t the one and only Princess. Where the hell have you been?”
His voice is deep, soothing, and does the same thing to me every time I hear it. I bite my lip and clench my thighs together. Fuck, I missed his voice.
“Thought you forgot about little ol’ us,” Waffle teases. “You’re breaking our hearts, sweet stuff.”
His voice affects me just as much as Grim’s. Slick gushes free, and it takes me a moment before I’m able to speak.
“Sorry,” I rasp before clearing my throat. “Life has been crazy. But good news! You’re going to be getting a lot more PastelPrincess. You know, if you’ll have me back.”
“Have you back?” Grim snorts. “Babe, you’re stuck with us for life. We’d never let you go.”
My heart cracks at his words, tears stinging my eyes. They bring me both joy and sorrow.
Have you ever fallen in love with someone you can’t have?
Well, I have. With three people to be exact.
Three boys I met online years ago, the people who quickly became my safe place, my chosen family. Twelve years later, and we’re still in one another's lives.
“Thanks, guys.” I smile, eyes blurry with tears. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Grim asks, sounding more serious.
“Nah.” I laugh it off. “I’d much rather play.”
My heart jumps again when I see Death’s gamer tag pop up. All three of my men.
No. They’re not my men, but fuck, I wish they were.
If I had it my way, these three would be my pack. My Alphas.
Only this is reality, and they only exist online.
Even after all these years, we’ve never exchanged real names or any personal details that could give us away, keeping up the illusion of our online personas. A safe place to be whoever we want, without the worries of judgment that would come with the real world.
“Death, my man!” Waffle cheers. “Look who’s back.”
I watch as Death clicks off his mic and types Hi, Princess. Welcome back. Ready to play? in the chat.
A smile slips over my lips. Maybe moving back won’t be all that bad. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m ready.”