40. Carter
Chapter forty
Carter
The person who slides into the seat beside mine is the last person I want to spend this flight with.
The only exception are the two alphas a few seats down.
Jonas and Liam have their heads bent close together, a muttered conversation flying between them that I lean forward to try and hear without success.
“Cart.” Benji stops next to us, offering Lauren a nod before focusing on me. “Where’s Rosie?”
“Sick.” I check my phone screen again, my stomach twisting at the dark screen. “She had a medical yesterday. Her numbers were way off, so she’s on rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“Shit.” He frowns deeply as Ryker shimmies past him with a wink and a hip thrust. Benji ignores him. “You need me to do anything?”
“Can you do anything from here?” I snap, and immediately regret it. My hand lifts to scratch at my neck. “Fuck. Sorry. I’m all over the place. Appreciate the offer.”
“No need. I get it.” Benji taps the back of Lauren’s chair. “You sure this is where you want to be?”
“Do I have a choice?” Fuck me, but I’m winning in the charm stakes today.
It’s so fucking hot in here. I wrestle with the top button of the crisp white shirt Dick insists we wear for game days.
We’re going straight from the plane to the arena.
Hard and fast, in and out. Vancouver tomorrow, Calgary Thursday, and with the time difference we’ll be back in Blackwater Thursday night.
I’m not going to have time to fucking breathe.
“My ass isn’t that small, Laine. Quit holding’ up the queue.”
Lauren turns to me as Ethan shoves Benji down the plane, the two of them too broad to fit across the aisle. My hand jiggles on the armrest.
The wrong omega is sitting beside me. “No offense, but I’d rather you didn’t sit by me. Rosie’s not here. Feels a little disrespectful.”
“This isn’t my seat.” She points down to where Ness is engrossed in a heated call, her headphones in. “I came to ask if you’re alright. Not with any nefarious intentions.”
I need a fucking dose, but everyone seems to be watching me like I’m the damn Everly Cup final with ten seconds left on the clock. “Fucking fantastic.”
I lean my head back and check my phone again, tossing it down on the table when there’s no message. “She’s not responding to me.”
“Maybe she’s asleep? You did tell her to rest.”
I turn my head to her and raise my eyebrows. “Have you met Rosie?”
Her lips twitch. “You do make a reasonable point.”
Since she’s here... “How are… things?”
Lauren stares, and I gesture in their general direction. “You know.”
“Oh.” She smiles, but it’s a straight line. A polite smile. “Great.”
I’m taking Rosie out of this pack and tearing it down the middle in a few days, and Lauren will be left to deal with the aftermath. For the first time, I wonder what exactly I’ll be leaving her with.
Awkwardly, I shift. “Look. I know we haven’t spent much time together. But you’re technically…” I lower my voice. “You know. Part of my pack. If anything’s wrong, I’ll try and help. ‘Cuz no offense, but you don’t exactly look like a blushing omega delighted with her matches.”
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if she’s happy at all.
“I’m not sure it’s anything you can help with.” Lauren looks down at her lap. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not my scent match.”
“Ouch.” My eyes slide back to my phone. Still nothing. “I’ll try not to take that personally.”
“You shouldn’t,” she says quietly. “Rosie deserves better, you know.”
That draws my full attention. My eyes follow hers, and my eyes narrow on Jonas and Liam. “Than them, you mean?”
I know Rosie hasn’t told me everything. But maybe Lauren will. Twisting and hissing as my shoulder pulls awkwardly in this fucking ridiculous seat, I try to focus. “What are you saying, exactly?”
She takes a breath. “I’m saying there’s something really, really wrong inside your pack, Carter. And I’m not sure it has anything to do with me.”
Lauren pushes to her feet as I stare at her, speechless. “Has Rosie come back to you?”
I shake my head. “What the—where are you going?”
We’re not done with this conversation. Ness pulls out her headphones as Lauren strides up to her, face creasing, before she nods and reaches for her phone. My mouth opens as Lauren yanks open the overhead cupboard and pulls out her bag.
She walks straight past Liam and Jonas on her way back to my seat. Jonas finally looks up from their little pow-wow, his head twisting to watch as she stops next to me, clutching her navy-blue bag.
“You can’t go home,” she says tightly. “But I can. And I’d rather be there than here. So I’m going to go and check on your omega for you, Carter Reynolds.”
I blink as she points at me. “But you’re going to speak to someone about why you’re twitching like someone’s jammed your finger in a damned socket. Do we have a deal?”
I feel my body flush. “I’m not twitching.”
In answer, she points. I look down at my arm. It’s shaking, and I hide it under the fucking table. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
I don’t have a fucking problem.
“Maybe not.” Her voice lowers. “But I’ve seen guys like you in New York fight through injuries and end up losing everything else.
I’ve seen what happens to them if they can’t stop, Carter.
Rosie is worried about you. So I want you to go up there and talk to Dickface and Martin before this flight touches down. ”
She raps her knuckles on the table. “I’ll message you an update when I get there.”
“Get where?” Jonas appears behind her, but she doesn’t turn.
“The apartment.” She holds up a hand to someone behind me. “To check on Rosie.”
Jonas chokes on air. “Wait, what? We’re taking off!”
“The doors haven’t closed yet.”
I rummage around in my pocket and toss her the keys to my truck. “You can drive, right?”
“Um.” She stares down at them. “Yeah. But it’s been a while.”
“Don’t break my truck.” I reach out and catch her arm as Jonas splutters behind her. Neither of us pay him any attention. “Thanks.”
“We have a deal, right?” She stares at me steadily. I have a feeling she’ll sit her ass down right now if I refuse.
“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “I’ll speak to them.”
“What the fuck?” Jonas moves to follow, but I block the aisle with my arm. “She can’t leave like that. Will security let her through?”
Somehow, I can’t see them stopping her. I find myself impressed.
“Sit your ass down,” I say tightly. “She’s going. We’re leaving in a minute.”
“Carter.” Jonas laughs, but there’s a strange pitch to it. His voice lowers. “Seriously, man. She’s my scent match. You don’t need to get involved in this.”
“I’m your damn pack alpha.” I hold his gaze until he drops it. “And hers, right now. So do as you’re told and sit the fuck down.”
He turns without a word and drops back into his seat. I twist, checking she’s actually off the plane and drop back into my seat, digging in my pocket for the bottle and flipping my thumb under the lid.
Stopping, I stare down at it. My thumb rubs against the plastic lid, and I tilt it, my lips moving as I count.
That’s not right. Frowning, I count them again.
I had one hundred and twenty pills…ten days ago? Twelve, maybe? I’m losing fucking track.
And now… I count again.
Eighteen.
My gaze moves from the bottle to my shaking arm, and I set it down on the table without opening it.
“Morning, everyone.”
The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom as I run my hands over my face.
“Flight time to Seattle today is about five hours.”
More than a hundred pills in ten days.
“We've got good weather most of the way, with a light chop expected over the mountains during descent.”
Rosie’s been on my case, but I thought I had it handled. Under control.
“Should be an easy ride. Sit back and enjoy the flight."
Maybe it’s not under control at all.
Maybe it’s me that’s under control.
I stay where I am for the first hour. I pull out my phone and go through my emails, noting every prescription I’ve been given since the lunch meeting with Martin and adding them up until I slam my phone down, breathing raggedly.
“Cart.” Liam’s hand claps my shoulder before he slides into the empty seat opposite me. “Can we talk?”
“No.” I lurch to my feet, searching over the rows for Dick or Martin. “Really not a good time.”
They look up as I loom over them. “Can I have a word?”
“Sure.” Martin tips his thumb at Viktor and Gabe. “Give us a minute, will ya?”
Gabe slides out, eyeing me. “Everything good?”
“Great.” I flash him a smile, wondering if it looks as unsteady as I feel because he doesn’t look reassured. “Just need a sec.”
I slide into Vik’s vacated space, my hand reaching for my neck again before I curl my fingers into a fist and force it down. The neck of my shirt feels damp.
Martin and Dick swap a glance I can’t read.
“How you doing, Carter?” Dick leans forward. Clearly, he’s been tagged as it.
I take a deep breath. “Honestly? I think…”
Fuck. Fuck. “I think there might be an issue. With my meds.”
“What issue?” Dick looks me over and then looks at Martin. “Remind me what you’re on right now?”
My coach grunts. “He’s with Adams. Same place we used for Laine.”
“Oxy,” I croak out. “They put me on oxy, and I… I’m losing track of my doses a bit.”
Fuck. Why is this so fucking hard? I swipe my palms against my trousers, trying to get rid of the sweat. “It’s not a big deal. Just making me a bit out of sorts. Might need to talk to medical. Get back on a solid plan with Mina, you know?”
Dick’s face creases. “Well, we certainly can’t have you out of sorts. We can absolutely arrange that, of course.”
“Yeah?” I look between them, shoulders sagging. “I’d appreciate it.”
“End of the regular season’s a few games away.” Martin coughs heavily, twenty years of cigars trying to escape at once. “Look, son. You tell me you can’t play, I’ll pull you right now. Is that what you need from me?”
“What?” My eyes grow wide, panic hammering my chest. “Fuck, Coach. No. Fuck no. I want to play. Course I do.”
“Course you do,” Martin repeats. “And we want you to go all the way. We’ve put a lot of faith in you, son. A lot on your shoulders, I know. Kept you through the trade deadline. You could be one of the greats, you know? Hell, you already are. It’s all there, waiting’ for you.”
He leans in. “And I know how much you want it. It’s why I picked you out of every single player in the draft. Because you were fucking hungry, son. I saw it. I know you’ll fight for what you want, and you and I want the same damn thing.”
“You know what the next step is.” Coach surveys me under grey, bushy brows. “So you tell me the truth, right here and now, and I’ll run with it. Do I need to pull you?”
I fight to draw in enough air to speak.
If I pack it in now—that’s it. My season is done, and so are the Titans.
It’s surgery, and months away from the ice. End of my contract and no guarantee of another one, not with a fucked-up shoulder.
And if Ro and I are splitting from the pack… what the fuck else am I good for?
Playoffs are next week. Two months left. And if I lift an Everly Cup, I can set whatever direction I want, even if my shoulder never gets back to full strength and I have to retire.
But right now, I have nothing. And nothing’s what I’ll have to offer Rosie if I give up.
I can’t give up.
My words are a croak. “No, sir. I’ll handle it.”
And my coach smiles at me. “Good lad.”