1. Opening Night and Hairy Kiwis #2
Liam rolls his eyes as I twist the clipboard to show Jonas and tap my finger next to the allocated time. “Would I let you down? Ninety minutes. To sleep. Then up and showered. I want to get back to the Furnace for five before the crowds start waiting at the player’s entrance.”
Whoever’s there early enough will get some quality interactions, because none of my pack will ignore anyone waiting in the cold to see their favorite player.
The way people have been talking about their chances this season, I have a feeling there’s going to be more than a few there early. My heart squeezes as I set the clipboard aside. “So… yeah. That’s it.”
“Perfect,” Carter murmurs. He brushes back my hair as he pushes his plate back, and I frown at the untouched food until his arms wrap around me. His muttered grumble finds my ear. “I still don’t like that they’re coming into our arena.”
“That’s the name of the game, I’m afraid. Get through tonight and you won’t have to see them again for a month.” I suck my cheeks in. “I am not staying home. Don’t ask me to.”
“Absolutely not. I need you there.” He pulls back and studies me, a frown darkening his expression. “Don’t engage with him, Ro. Or any of them. His team is as bad as he is. Promise me.”
I almost roll my eyes. Almost. “I can handle Boone, Carter.”
Wrong thing to say. Carter steps closer, his palms cradling my face. “No. Promise me. Don’t look at him. Don’t speak to him and don’t engage with him. It’ll only encourage him.”
“’kay,” I mumble through squished cheeks. “If oo inshist.”
He releases me with a rueful smile. “I do. You know I hate pulling lead alpha on you, but I will when he’s involved.”
As if he ever pulls lead alpha on any of us. I catch Liam rolling his eyes again. Carter might be the most easygoing pack leader to ever exist, but his second is not. Especially when it’s opening night. Every muscle is practically quivering with tension. I glance away before he notices me staring.
“Boone’s not going to do anything,” I say softly. “But I’ll act like he doesn’t exist if you need that from me. Don’t let him get into your head.”
“Thank you.” Carter sighs, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You’re my whole world, Ro. You know that, right? This season is gonna be brutal. I’m sorry in advance.”
I bite down on the instinctive urge to snark back. I know where I stand, and where my pack stands. And all of us desperately want to see the Titans lift the Everly Cup. “Don’t worry about me. But… after the season’s done?”
His fingers brush over my neck. “Whatever happens, I’m not waiting anymore.”
Now hold on a minute.
My lips part. “You mean…”
“Yeah.” He swallows. My hands suddenly find my lap as my spine snaps straight, fingers gripping each other tightly to keep still.
Jonas and Liam get up from their seats and come to stand on either side of me. Jonas’s eyes flicker between us, shoulders bouncing until Liam slams a hand down on his shoulder to keep him from launching forward.
Carter cups my cheek. “We talked about it, Ro. We’ve asked too much of you as it is. So whatever happens on the ice, this is gonna be our year. All of us.”
His lips brush my ear. “We’re finally making it official. A proper mating.”
Something light and fluttery bursts to life in my chest as I stare up at them. “But… the season—are you sure?”
Three years of waiting while they—we, I remind myself, because fuck knows I want it just as much as they do—chased the Everly Cup every season.
Three years of getting so damned close. Playoffs every year, finals twice, every defeat accompanied by the knowledge that the words I wanted more than anything would take a little longer.
Instead, I’ve survived three seasons on a promise and a half-filed registration with the Northeast Omega Commission.
Status: Co-habitation only.
They’re my alphas. And this is my pack. It’s just not official.
But they’ve said the words so much, I could recite them in my sleep.
When we lift the Everly Cup, we’re gonna have the biggest mating ceremony Blackwater’s ever seen.
And we’ll finally be a proper pack.
We’ve done the test run. I have a pack house—well, penthouse, but you won’t catch me complaining.
I have three wonderful pack alphas, and everything that I want.
It’s a perfect life. Except for the glaring absence of their mating bites in my neck and a missing (M) next to my name in the NOC register that denotes an official, forever pack bond.
I want the Cup. But I want this too. My eyes well up, and Jonas makes a distressed noise in his chest. “Don’t go soppy on us now. You know I can’t do tears.”
I half-laugh, half-sob, and drop my face into my hands. “I thought it would be bad luck.”
At some point, our mating became entwined with them finally lifting the Everly Cup.
And there’s nobody on this planet more superstitious than hockey players in their third season.
Liam won’t even change the order of products lining his shower shelf once the first game kicks off.
I replaced them all yesterday and hid the giant replacement bottles in the corner snack cupboard of my nest so I can top them up without him seeing.
“I hate that we made you think that.” Carter peels my hands away and keeps hold of them. “Nothing about you could ever be bad luck. Whatever way this goes, we’re setting a date as soon as the season’s done. No more waiting.”
“Well.” Jonas shifts. “If you still want us.”
All three of them pause. Carter’s head whips from Jonas to me. “What the fuck? Of course she does.”
“We didn’t even ask her properly,” Liam mutters. He rubs his hands over his face. “Jesus, Carter.”
Carter’s face flushes, and I lean in to brush my palm over the faint golden scruff already lining his face. “I will expect a proper proposal after the season. Deal?”
Ideally with some sort of flash mob. Lots of jazz hands. Eighties music blasting, some synchronized dancing.
An omega can dream. And send plenty of video nudges to the pack chat. Including links to flash mob bookings and a carefully curated online quiz: Name Rosie’s Favorite Eighties Track.
Subtlety, thy name is not Rosie.
It’s been a really long three years. Relief breaks out on Carter’s face. “Best one ever. It’s a promise, Ro.”
My sweet summer child. He has no idea what’s in store.
“Okay, then.” Flustered, I tuck my hair behind my ear before I notice the time. “Showers, all of you. Season starts now.”
I cross my fingers on both hands, and add my toes for good measure as the three of them head to their rooms to prep. And I manifest the shit out of all the thoughts in my head.
It’s going to be their season.
It’s going to be my season.
I can feel it.