35. Teddy Bear Tossers
Chapter thirty-five
Teddy Bear Tossers
Callum Morris, NPHL Network Analyst:“Well, whatever was slowing Carter Reynolds down, Jeff, it appears to be firmly in the rear-view mirror. The Titans captain has been absolutely flying over recent weeks, driving the net with a fearlessness that almost borders on reckless at times. It's producing top-notch hockey that we’re all enjoying—and wins—but you have to wonder how sustainable that aggressive style is going to be heading into a long playoff run.”
“Anything I can do for tonight?”
Liam sits on the edge of his bed and yanks his practice jersey over his head.
“Score, ideally.” I stay where I am, my face lifted to the ceiling as my body buckles beneath the familiar endless chain of commands. My hands are shaking when I lift them, and I let them flop back down to the bed. “All we need is a home goal. How long are we going to keep doing this?”
He twists to look at me. “As long as it takes. You know that.”
“Regular season’s nearly done.” I keep staring at a small patch that the decorator missed. “There has to be a last time at some point. I think it’ll be fine. I don’t need a bark anymore, Liam. I want to stop.”
Everything is under control.
I am under control.
But I’m so, so tired of being under his thumb. Liam looms over me, his hand pushing some hair away from my face. “When the season’s done. I promised, didn’t I? We’ll talk about it then, Ro. Things are good.”
He leans in to brush his lips against mine. “Aren’t they?”
I wait for him to say something else. Anything else. But he turns and heads for the door. “Come on. You need to eat before we leave. It’s gonna be a long day since we’re not coming home before the game.”
“What’s going on with Carter?”
I catch a flicker of irritation that he smothers as he turns, his hand on the door. “What do you mean?”
My body aches as I haul myself upright. “You know what I mean. Did anything happen with the team?”
He offers me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Cart is fine. Coach is riding him hard since he found his rhythm again, that’s all. Wants to get the most out of him for playoffs, usual shit. Nothing to worry about.”
But I am worried. “He left early this morning.”
Again. Liam taps on the door, his eagerness to get away from this conversation clear. “Yeah, because he had to go in early to talk to Gabe. There’s no conspiracy here, Ro. We’ve got enough to handle without you seeing things that aren’t there.”
He waits for me to slide off the bed and join him. “Can you talk to Lauren about dinner tomorrow? I know it’s your night, but I’d like you to work on it together.”
I’d forgotten. “What time will they get here?”
“Dad said around seven.” He hesitates. “Look, my family… They're a bit different, Rosie. Keep an open mind, yeah?”
Following him toward the kitchen, I wonder what he means. I stop outside Lauren’s door. It’s open. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She looks up. There’s a box in her hands, and she tilts it to show me the soft toys inside. “Will these work? I’ve never done a toss before.”
“You’re good. How is that possible? They’re a rite of passage.”
She pulls the door closed behind her as she joins me. “They only do them at APHL level in New York, and I moved straight into NPHL when I left college. Feels like I missed out.”
“You did.” Teddy Bear Toss is my favorite event of Blackwater’s regular season. And as far as I can tell, it’s going to be the best damn part of an otherwise shit day. I glance around the kitchen as we enter, but Jonas and Liam don’t even look up, apart from a muttered greeting.
My whole stomach sinks into a whirlpool of nausea. “Seriously?”
Jonas looks up with a smile. “Oh. Morning, Lauren. How’d you sleep?”
Fuck my actual life.
I slam the door on the cupboard hard enough that all the chinaware inside shakes and settle down with my plate. Liam pushes a kiwi onto it without speaking.
A fucking hairy kiwi.
Today of all days. I don’t think so. Holding his gaze, I pick it up and fling it toward the hall, a faint distant thud filling the silence. “Whoops.”
I reach for a cereal box instead. Fruit Loops never let me down.
All three of them are watching me, and I silently dare Liam to push me when I grab the sugar bowl and sprinkle some over my bowl, going back for a second spoonful.
Clearly his sense of self-preservation is intact, because he snaps his mouth shut with an irritated glance at my kiwi-free breakfast and keeps quiet.
“So,” I say cheerily when I’ve eaten at least half. “Lauren. Family dinner tomorrow night.”
She looks up from her tablet, glancing at Liam. “Uh, yeah. It’s your dad’s pack, right?”
“Yeah. I want them to meet you.” He holds her eyes, his voice dropping. “It’s important to me that they get to know my scent match.”
Ew. Barf. I decide not to point out that I’ve never met them. Funny how it doesn’t hurt anymore. A few months ago, I probably would have holed up next to the spattered hairy kiwi and cried a few silent tears.
I seem to be all out of tears right now, though. Especially where Liam and Jonas are involved.
My chewing slows to watch the show as Lauren shoves her toast into her mouth. It might be the most inelegant thing I’ve ever seen her do. He stares at her the whole time she’s chewing, and her cheeks are scarlet when she finally mumbles an answer. “Sure. I guess.”
My choked laugh draws Liam’s glare, and I wave a hand at my bowl while clearing my throat. “Stray Fruit Loop. Shall we go? Lauren, we’ve got that meeting with Dickface—sorry, Dick. He hates it when we’re late.”
“Rosie.” Liam pinches his nose. “Could you not?”
But he gets up, going to the bowl where we keep the keys. Lauren catches my eye and nods in what might be a true sister-wife bonding moment.
Maybe we’ll sit next to each other in the documentary and hold hands.
Jonas beats us to the elevator. He slips his hand into Lauren’s, and she fakes a sudden interest in the wall as Liam presses the button for the garage.
“Well,” I say pleasantly after fifteen floors of silence. “This is lovely.”
“What the hell is wrong with you today?” Jonas is the one who responds, much to my surprise. Kind of forgot he could talk. “Sleep on the wrong side of the bed?”
I mouth my response to the buttons. At least they light up when I’m around. “What, me? I’m great. Fantastic, actually. It’s a special day, you know.”
I tap my fingers against my leg.
“Yeah, Toss Night is always good.”
The silence stretches out. Lauren coughs delicately into her hand.
“Please don’t call it that,” I mutter as the doors open. “It sounds like a collective peen stroking session. This is a child-friendly event.”
Honestly. And somebody said he was old enough to vote. I’m having significant doubts.
Jonas’s ears flush as we head to Liam’s truck. “I like it.”
“Me too,” Lauren says, much to my surprise. I glance over my shoulder as she climbs into the back seat. Her lips are twitching. “You should keep using it.”
“Thank you.” Jonas’s glare on the back of my head is cold. “Glad somebody agrees with me.”
I rest my head against the window for the rest of the ride, listening to him rank his branding deals. In order of their social media follower size.
Liam doesn’t argue when I flip his radio station to eighties music.
In fact, he turns it up. So this day isn’t an entire shitshow.
Just a little bit.
***
Katie and Maddie collide with me at the same time. Both of them jump up and down and squish me against their boobs, babbling words I can’t hear over the muffled effect created by their outfits.
Not the worst position to be in, but I can’t breathe.
“I think I need a life jacket,” I mumble against Maddie’s left breast. “Fuck me. Your kid must be the size of the hulk by now.”
“Happy birthday! This is from both of us.” Katie presents me with a small, glittery green bag, slightly squashed. She fusses with it before handing it over. “Oops.”
I don’t care. It might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I seize it like the greedy little omega I am, peeking inside to see a NestFest box. “Thanking you very kindly.”
“Twenty-five.” Maddie links her arm through mine as we make our way to our seats. “That’s a big one, right?”
“Not really.” Or not at fucking all, apparently. “Twenty-one. Thirty. You know.”
“Eh. I bet the guys absolutely ruined you.”
I wave my hand. “Oh, yeah. You know how they are.”
Maddie hugs my arm. “I’m so happy to escape the nappy-thon. This was an excellent reason. Although cocktails would have worked too.”
We find our seats and settle in. Katie and Maddie launch into a discussion on Benji’s new online fan club, and I stare at the ice and try not to cry.
They forgot. All of them.
My pack forgot my birthday.
By the time the jumbotron clears of the crowd shots, my pity party is in full flow. I’m not even going to pay attention to the skate out.
They don’t deserve my fucking attention. I’m not exactly in the mood to cheer for my alphas when they barely remember I exist. I tug the bag of teddies from under my seat, careful not to dislodge my gift bag.
Carter’s never forgotten my birthday. Not once. Not even when we were kids and didn’t have two cents to rub together for a present.
But… he’s not exactly acting like himself right now.
I find myself leaning forward when Mike announces the Titans arrival, watching him skate through the blue smoke over the sound of pulsing base. He lines up beside the others, not even looking up at the crowd. There’s no heart-tap. No silent signal.
Nothing at all.
There’s no individual skate-on tonight. Both teams skate in as a group, and I flop back in my seat as Mike announces the Aces to a series of boos from our side and raucous support from their own.
The music starts, and I roll my neck.
“Ro!” Maddie jabs my side. “Listen! It’s your favorite!”
My ankle boot taps on the ground. I love this song. I used to play it on repeat, back when—
I slowly straighten as the first scarlet figure appears through the smoke, his jersey emblazoned with an unmistakable 13.
Unlucky number 13.