38. Bubbles and Broken Glass
Chapter thirty-eight
Bubbles and Broken Glass
“Did you like your ragdoll?”
I find myself smiling down at the counter. Georgio glances between us warily, possibly remembering the last encounter I had with the Aces here. “Eh. Not as good as the real thing, but she’ll do.”
“Agreed. I tried my best, though.”
His ragdoll might be sitting on the empty shelf in my nest, though he’d have to waterboard me to admit it. “Did you want coffee, or did you just come to ruin my day?”
“I’m the highlight of your day, and both of us know it.” Boone leans on the counter beside me, making a show of studying Georgio’s menu. “Strong coffee, milky coffee, frothy coffee. Why are there only three drinks on this menu?”
Georgio gives him a heavy dose of stink-eye.
“Because we don’t mess with a good thing.” I tap my nails against the counter. “Congratulations on playoffs.”
He ducks his head, and I smirk at the sight of his neck turning red. A hint of his tattoos peek out from his jersey. “So you do have a bit of humility. Deep, deep down. Where do you keep it? In your little toe?”
He nudges me, but he’s grinning. “How much did it hurt to say something nice to me?”
“Not as much as you’ll be hurting if Carter comes out and sees us talking.” I turn my face away at the reminder, but I can feel him watching me.
“Still hates me, then?”
“We keep a dartboard with your face on it in our bathroom.” I turn to look at him again, a question building in my mind.
He looks back, hazel eyes narrowing. “What?”
Bad idea. Bad, bad, bad idea. Fucking terrible. Back up, Johnson.
“Come on, Ragdoll,” Boone says, tilting his head. “Out with whatever it is that’s putting that look on your face.”
I can’t talk to Liam or Jonas, not properly. I could talk to Benji, but he’d barrel straight into papa bear mode. Ryker’s too green. Ethan, maybe. But he’d probably try to talk to Carter.
But there’s only one person who might have advice, who I know won’t go running to my alpha. I turn my nails over, studying them as Georgio deposits my latte in front of me. “Thanks, Gio.”
“Nothing for me.” Boone offers him an apologetic smile that Gio responds to by banging together everything he can as far away from us as he can get. “So?”
Inhaling, I turn to look down the hall.
They’re on the ice. Nobody’s coming. My eyes lower to my coffee. “Carter’s taking oxy for his shoulder.”
I am Jezebel. Lilith. I am the Great Betrayer.
As soon as I spill the traitorous words from my serpent tongue, I want to shrivel up into a ball of shame. But Boone’s turned to stone beside me. “He what?”
“You remember, right?” I face him, committing to my deception in full. But I need advice.
And Boone… he was ours, once. The third part of an unbreakable trio. “You know how pain schedules work, and I don’t. Should I be worried about this?”
He takes a deep breath. “His team doctor signed off on it?”
“Not his usual one. They brought in someone else, apparently.”
His face flickers.
“What? What does that mean?”
“Nothing, most of the time.” He sucks on the inside of his cheek, hollowing it.
“Second opinions happen all the time, and for good reason. But sometimes… hell, I mean, I don’t know for sure, Ro.
But I’ve heard of it happening with prescription meds.
One doctor can’t or won’t prescribe, so management brings in someone who will. ”
My eyes prickle. “Mina knows his history. She knew he never wanted to take it. He made it clear when he signed on.”
But something has changed. “I think he might be struggling. He’s not acting like himself. Not completely.”
“Like forgetting your birthday,” Boone says steadily. I open my mouth, but he stops me. “No point covering for him, Ro. I have eyes.”
My voice raises in my panic and I try to moderate it, aware of Georgio humming a few feet away. “He’s coming home late, leaving early. I don’t see him sleeping any more. And he’s sweating all the time, and his pupils are like freaking dots…”
I trail off. “It could be side effects, right? It doesn’t always mean it’s more.”
“You know Carter.” Boone’s eyes have turned dark. “Better than me, better than anyone. So you tell me, Ro. Do we need to worry about this?”
It feels like my chest is collapsing inward. “I—”
“Rosie?”
When I whirl, I dump half of my coffee over myself and the rest over Boone. “Shit!”
“What’re you doing?” Jonas’s voice is mild as he looks us both over. Boone grabs a stack of napkins, handing half to me as I splutter. “Seemed to be a pretty intense conversation. You didn’t see me standing here.”
“That’s because I only pay attention to brilliance.” The cocky, self-assured expression slides over Boone’s face, masking any hint of what we were talking about. “Tried to talk Johnson into running away with me, but she’s worried you’ll piss the bed without a night nurse.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns, sauntering away in his coffee-soaked shirt.
I grapple to pull my thoughts back together. “Why aren’t you on the ice?”
He gives me a strange look. “Carter’s running drills with Ethan. I’m heading home, since we drove separately this morning. You can come too, get changed.” He judges my own stained clothes with a distinctly unimpressed look. “We can talk there.”
Shit.
Big shit.
***
“So.” Jonas folds his arms. “Want to tell me why I caught you talking to Boone fucking Mercer about Carter’s personal life?”
I slide my jacket off and toss it over the arm of the couch while I run through my options. “Because I’m worried about him. Aren’t you?”
“Cap’s fine. Better than he’s ever been. Smashing it out on the ice.” His voice is low. “Shame his omega’s talking about him behind his back.”
I swallow the flicker of fear at his implication. “He’s smashing it because he’s on oxy. He can’t fucking take oxy.”
Jonas frowns. “Why not?”
We watch each other warily. I find my voice. “He didn’t tell you?”
Jonas looks perturbed. “What, does he have an allergy? He’s fine.”
“He is not fine.” My tolerance for that fucking word finally snaps, and my voice rises. “He is falling apart, and none of you seem to care. And if you thought of anyone other than yourself for one freaking minute, Jonas, you’d see that too!”
“Cut the attitude, will you?” His face darkens. “I swear to God, you’d try the patience of a goddamned fucking saint.”
“We’re not talking about me,” I snap. “But since we’re tearing apart characters, why don’t you try being you for once, instead of copying everyone around you that you desperately want to be?”
He raises a finger at me. “I’ve fucking had it with you. You’re always trying to make me feel an inch small, Rosie, and I’ve had enough of it. Maybe you do need to learn your place—”
My abrupt, horrified laugh cuts him off. “Wow. I wonder where that one came from. What, Daddy Kessler is your new idol now?”
“He has the right idea.” Jonas takes a step toward me. “At least his omegas know how to behave instead of acting like a feral fucking cat. You’re not in the system anymore. Put the claws away and learn to act with a bit of fucking class.”
Each word lands like a heavy blow to my solar plexus. Jonas’s face flickers with what might be regret. But it doesn’t matter. It’s out there now, and he can’t take it back.
“I would choose to be me any day of the week,” I say hoarsely. “Than be anything like you.”
When I go to move past him, he grabs my arm. “We’re not done.”
“Yes, we are.” I try to yank my arm away, falling into the doorway of the hall. “Because I’m done trying to pretend you’re anything but a self-obsessed little boy playing at being an alpha. You have no idea how to be a true alpha, Jonas. So yes, I am done.”
He doesn’t let go. His grip tightens. “I fucking warned you.”
Jonas yanks me into the hall, fending off my other hand. “Let—go, of me!”
But he pulls me into the communal bathroom only guests use and pushes me up against the sink, grabbing at the shelf. “You had to push it, didn’t you?”
My body falters at what he’s holding in his hands. He knocks the faucet with the side of his hand and runs it under the water. “What—”
“Open your mouth.” His hand tightens until it’s painful. I snap my mouth closed and lunge for the door, but he hauls me back. “I don’t like having to do this, but you have to fucking learn when to shut your mouth.”
Our rapid breathing fills the bathroom as he grabs my jaw and squeezes it, shoving the bar of soap inside so hard that I choke and rubbing it over my tongue.
My hands claw at his arm, his neck, like the feral cat he called me as I try to push him off. A violent retch makes its way up my throat. My mouth feels like it’s bubbling, the back of my throat burning. Tears leak out of my eyes—
The soap slips free, and I slide down, my knees hitting the black tiled floor. Jonas smashes into the shower door, and I flinch away from the broken glass that rains down over me, my hands flying up to cover my face from the shards.
Hands slip under me, lifting me up. “I’ve got you.”
My hands cling for purchase. “I—he—”
“I know.” Liam sets me down on the toilet, pushing back my hair. “I saw. Did you get cut?”
I fold over and retch.
Jonas coughs, hauling himself upright. There’s a slim cut across his cheek. “What the fuck?”
Liam’s hands slam into his chest, his voice raising to a roar. “I should fucking kill you. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
My hands reach for my neck, massaging it. Jonas’s gaze veers between us, clouding over. “I… she—”
“She fucking what?” Liam bellows. He points at me and then swings around, shoving Jonas again as he stumbles back, his hands searching for a grip to stop himself falling into the broken shower. “You shoved soap into her mouth.”
“I got carried away.” Jonas darts a look at me and then away. “Last night—it got in my head, alright? No harm done.”
“No harm done?” Liam stares at him wildly. “You think Carter’s going to let you live after this? Be part of his pack? Kiss goodbye to your career, asshole, because you just sank it.”
Jonas’s face ashes over. “I didn’t think.”
“You never fucking do, you idiot.” Liam tugs at his hair and turns to me. “Let’s get you some water.”
But I shrink away, looking between them.
Clarity. It strikes between my ribs, sliding into my heart and shredding what’s left of it.
“Come on,” Liam murmurs. He holds out his hand, waiting for me to take it. “I’ll make you some tea. We can talk this through.”
I know what his version of talking things through looks like. Just like I know that when the conversation’s over, my ability to talk it through with anyone will be stripped from me once again. “It was always Carter, wasn’t it? It was never me.”
Liam’s face doesn’t change. But a crease appears at the corners of his eyes, and he glances at a still-pale Jonas. “What are you talking about?”
I laugh softly, but there’s no amusement. “Did you ever want me at all, or was I only ever your ticket into the draft?”
Liam says nothing. But Jonas’s fish impression, all wide eyes and a floppy, gaping mouth, gives it away.
It might be funny, if it wasn’t so fucking sad.
My eyes close. “Packs get drafted together. Everyone knows the NPHL goes for the top performer. And Carter was the best. Everyone knew it. First pick and a straight ride into a top team for whoever he decided to bring with him.”
Boone had left us.
And Jonas and Liam had appeared through the mist of our broken hearts like a gift. They zeroed in on me like I was their personal homing beacon. Showered me with gifts and constant praise and told me they were one hundred per cent in, and to forget all about Boone because I had them now.
Whatever they needed to do, I realize, to make Carter believe they wanted his omega too. And so he’d asked them to join his pack. The pack he was desperate to build to make sure I’d never be alone again.
“You rode his star all the way to the top.” I fold over again. I’m not sure they’re breathing. “You wanted the top team, the brand deals, the sponsorships. You made him all those promises so he’d believe we weren’t on our own anymore. That you loved me, too, even though it wasn’t about me at all.”
And when Lauren had arrived, their deception fell to pieces as easily as shredded paper.
Carter and I stepped into a trap we didn’t even know was open.
“Jonas,” Liam says shortly. “Get out.”
“But—”
“Now,” Liam grits out. “Before I throw you back through that shower.”
Jonas ducks past me without saying a word, and I look up at Liam with blurry eyes. “We’re not going to discuss the bark after the season, are we?”
There’s always going to be a reason to extend it. The biggest one being that I know too much.
First, it’ll be playoffs. Another month, or two. Then three. And on, and on, until I’m silenced just as effectively as Erin. “You’ve backed yourself into a corner. You can’t do a lifetime of this.”
“And I’m not going to.” Liam kneels in front of me, but I turn my face away. “I know you don’t believe me, and I don’t blame you. But I do love you, Ro. It wasn’t an act.”
His hands reach for my face. “Let’s get this done, and we’ll clean you up.”
I look him over, wondering if I ever knew him at all. “I’m going to tell them, you know.”
Liam’s hands are shaking as he looks at me with gunmetal eyes, and I nod. Almost to myself. “There will be a day that you forget. Or a trip will run over, and the bark will fade. And that leash you’re holding so very tightly around my neck will slip, and I will tell everyone who you really are.”
Liam lets loose a long, rattling breath. “We won’t need to do this forever.”
“Stop lying to me.” My voice sounds so empty. “You can at least do that.”
His hand lifts, running through my tangled hair. He smooths it down my shoulder. “You have areas in your head called a cortical and limbic circuit. Did you know that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It takes a while.” His finger gently presses against my temple. “But alpha barks can create long-term changes, if they’re repeated often enough and over a sustained period. They become… permanent, Rosie. Do you understand?”
Horror weaves its way through my lungs, winding around my ribs and constricting. “Permanent?”
He nods, still looking at me with that strange expression.
Pity.
“We can stop soon,” he whispers. “Not yet, but soon. And I’ll be a good alpha to you, Rosie. I swear it. This part… it’ll be over. And we won’t need to talk about it again. Carter never needs to know, and we can all move on.”
He’s rewiring my brain. Weaving it into new layers so every order he gives me becomes a lifetime prison sentence.
But we’re leaving. The end of the regular season is a few days away, and Carter is dissolving the pack. I have an ace in my pocket, and he has no idea.
“I love you.” His lips brush mine. “It’ll be a good life, Rosie. I promise.”
You don’t know what love is.
That’s what I want to say.
But when we emerge from the bathroom with his hand wrapped around mine, Liam ordering an apologetic Jonas to clean up the mess we left behind, I can’t say anything at all.