34. Thirty Four - Tate

thirty four - tate

. . .

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It's the four letter word that keeps blasting its way through my brain. Drake's out. Drake has a concussion, which means that he's going to miss a few games. And Rebel's heat is coming up. Fuck. My. Life.

I pull up the group chat that I rarely look at after the game ends. The guys are all chatting about what happened. About how Jackhole, aka Jackson Fleetwood, from the Wolves smacked the shit out of that slapshot, and then laughed when Drake got knocked out cold. Hence why Arden went after his ass.

Sin: Still can't believe that fucker. Is he that fucking dense, thinking no one would go after him?

Axel: I still think he's compensating for something. You know…

Gav: Dude definitely has a micro dick.

Me: So, what did the doctors say about Drake?

Cap: He's going to be out of the next two games, which sucks because it's two of our hardest games this season.

Me: What the fuck am I? Chopped liver?

Cap: Nah, man. Just saying it'll suck not having a good backup goalie on hand.

Sin: Still can't believe the score ended up being 4-3.

Pulling up the list of members in the new group chat, I realize it doesn't include everyone on the team, like our second backup goalie, Grey, who is mysteriously absent from the list. I'm glad, though. He doesn't need the guys to be complaining about the game. He may be a backup, but he's brand new to the NHL. He'll get better, but right now, he's giving it everything he's got, even if that everything sucks.

Drake: Aww, it's cute that you knuckleheads are worried about me.

Seb: Oh, fuck off with that shit.

Me: How's the noggin'?

Drake: Splitting headache that hurts like fuck. Doc said I shouldn't be using my phone, but I figured I'd pop on and see what you losers were saying.

Sin: I feel honored.

Drake: We're no longer friends, consider yourself blacklisted.

Sin: Say it ain't so. Crying emoji

Drake: …

Me: …

Sin: Come on guys, it was a joke.

I can't help but laugh at my teammates. They're a bunch of morons. Hell, we all are, but we play hard, we win a lot of games, and we goof off about just as much. It's good to have a core group of guys. Guys who would give you the shirt off their damn backs if you needed one.

Rebel and I showered about twenty minutes ago, where I proceeded to go down on her and worship her fucking pussy until her legs shook too much to remain standing. Then I picked her up and put her to bed, wearing my shirt, of course.

My eyes trail over to the beauty peacefully sleeping beside me in bed. Her face is makeup free and her worry lines are smooth. Her gorgeous blonde hair fans out on the pillow cradling her head. Soft snores whisper from between those soft and pliable lips that I love to bite. I brush a strand of hair out of her face so I can watch her.

I still stalk her, but this time, she knows I'm here, and she wants me here. I've never admitted to loving anyone out loud but Rebel. This girl means the fucking world to me, and she doesn't even have half a clue of how much.

The TV lights up on the wall in front of the bed with replays of the game tonight. I can't stop watching it. Overanalyzing everything that happened in each period.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I look down to see another text in the group text.

Sin: Seriously, guys. You're going to leave it like that?

No one responds.

Sin: Okay, this really isn't funny guys. You know I was joking, right?

Deciding to put him out of his misery, I text him outside of the group chat.

Me: They're just being dicks. Stop looking so desperate.

Sin: Jesus, fuck. I thought I'd really fucked something up.

Me: Don't worry about it, kid.

Sin: Thanks.

What the hell is wrong with me? My omega's changing me into a big softie. Before Rebel, I'd have let him sweat it out until the next practice.

Maybe being soft isn't being weak, it's just understanding that there's another human being out there who may need to hear something only I can say.

I reach over to my nightstand and realize that my glass of water is empty. I'm dying for a drink, so I slip out of bed, grab my phone, and head to the kitchen. This is the exact reason I had the master bedroom laid out on the first floor. Let's face it, no one wants to walk down the stairs in the middle of the night looking for a drink.

The light from the fridge is blinding as I open it to get some ice out of the freezer. Once I'm satisfied there's enough ice, I put my glass under the water dispenser and listen to it fill the cup. While I'm waiting, I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to Drake.

Me: Got a favor to ask of you.

Drake: That's not ominous or anything.

Me: You're the only one I'd trust with this.

Drake: Not helping the ominous situation here. Do I need to blacklist you, too? Crying laughing emoji.

Me: You had Sin shitting his pants, bro. But I put him out of his misery.

Drake: Well, damn. Now I feel bad.

Me: He's a big boy. He'll figure it out.

Drake: So about this favor…

Me: We're out of town the game after the next. Rebel will be alone, and since you're not going with the whole concussion thing, I'm going to need you to watch her.

Drake: Stalker much?

Me: If I could tie her up and take her with me, I would, but somehow, I feel like she wouldn't go willingly.

Drake: Feisty omega?

Me: Something like that.

Drake: So, why am I playing knight in shining armor? Guessing it has something to do with why you and Gunnar skipped the game tonight? It didn't escape me that Nova and Rebel were also MIA.

Me: Someone attacked Nova last night.

Drake: Fuck. How's Gunnar?

He asks this because he knows what happened with Gunnar's sister. The truth is we all do, and no matter how much he denies it, Gunnar copped feels for Nova at some point this season. He just needs to pull his head out of his ass.

Me: Hanging in there, but kind of a mess. He got there in time, but…

Drake: Yeah, I get it. But… What does this have to do with your omega?

Me: Besides the fact that they're best friends and my omega is blaming herself for the situation? The guy who assaulted her used to rape my omega as a teenager.

Drake: I'm coming over.

The doorbell rings a few minutes later, and when I open it, Drake is standing there with a six pack of beer. "Please tell me one of you killed him," he says, shoving past me and heading into the living room.

I shake my head. "Come on in, then."

He snorts, walking away. "Oh, get over yourself. Seriously, he's behind bars or six feet under, right?"

He drops down onto the couch and pulls a beer from the case. The same beer I grab from him a moment later. "Dude, concussion. Pretty sure you shouldn't be drinking."

"Probably right."

"Definitely right," I respond.

"So…."

A growl escapes me, the rage slowly releasing into the atmosphere around us, leaving toxicity in its wake. "He's gone MIA. No one can find him, but we have video proof that it's him."

"Fuck, Rebel must be freaking out, right?"

I sigh. "I walked in on her in the bathroom, cutting herself. Drake, it…"

He wheezes out a breath. "Shit."

"Yeah, so that's why I need you to keep an eye on her while I'm out of town. You're the only one I trust to keep her safe." I look him in the eyes, waiting for any sign that he's not okay with this situation. Knowing what I do, or more like assuming what I do, he'd protect Rebel with his life. Especially if he finally realizes who she is to him.

Another part of me doesn't want to say anything; doesn't want him hanging around her just knowing how he feels about her, but it's not fair to Rebel. I shouldn't even be hiding this. I should've said something the second I realized who he was to her, but I kept my damn mouth shut.

"Absolutely."

"So, since you're literally living next door now. Still cringe, by the way. You can just stay at my house for the few days we're out of town. Does that sound cool? I'll grab food and shit. I just need to make sure she's safe. I need her to feel safe, Drake. You should've seen the look in her eyes. The haunted expression plastered across her face as she sat on the bottom of the shower, letting water rain down on her while she bawled her eyes out."

"Fuck, if my omega ever did that, it may just fucking break me."

"I'm not ashamed to say it almost did."

His eyes widen as he looks over at me. "Shit, you love her."

"I fucking do. It hasn't been that long, and we didn't go into this in agreement, but the first time I saw her throwing shots down her throat as fast as she could go to escape something, I knew she was it for me. I knew it when I caught some alpha trying to fuck with her in the bathroom after she got drunk. I knew it when I marked her."

His lips spread into a grin as he clinks his imaginary beer bottle to mine. "I'm happy for you, brother. Seriously."

I sigh, looking down at my hands. He's going to be pissed. I just know it. "You may not be after what I'm about to tell you…"

He chuckles. "Again with the ominous shit, man."

"It's her," I say, still not making eye contact. I'm a fucking alpha, it shouldn't be like this. I should be able to look him in the eye and tell him I marked his damn omega. It's me. I'm the reason he will never have a shot with her again, but I can't bring myself to see the anger and disappointment.

"It's her…" He repeats my words as if he's trying to decipher the cryptic code I've just laid out before him.

"Rebel Davis. Does that name ring a bell?"

Silence reigns supreme. It hangs heavy in the air between us. Anger tints the air. I knew he'd be pissed.

"How long?" he growls, and I finally make eye contact. I don't speak, I just look back at him, trying to read the closed off expression on his face. "How. Long. Tate?"

"I figured it out the day she told me about everything. About him ."

The look on his face is sheer determination and loaded with questions. "Who is him? When did this happen? Does she know who I am to her?"

"He was the boyfriend of your foster mother. Moved in, from what I gathered, in just a short time after you moved out."

He drops his head into his hands and breathes out. "Fuck. I wasn't. I didn't. Shit, I should've known. I should've checked up on her." He jumps to his feet and starts pacing around the living room. "Fuck it." His hands ball into fists. His anger is clearly evident, but I think he's almost more upset with himself than the man who took something from my omega.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"Why the fuck would she, Drake?" How does he not get this? "From what she said, you pretty much dropped off the side of the Earth, never to be seen or heard from again."

He looks at me. Sorrow painting his expression. "I didn't know, man." He shakes his head. "Leaving her was the hardest fucking thing I've ever had to do. Seeing the look on her face when I said goodbye broke me. I was a wreck for months. I had to completely shut off all contact if I wanted to be able to do what I needed to do for my career. I did it for her, thinking that I'd get her back someday, and now… she's with you ."

"I didn't know, Drake. But knowing what you do now…. Are you willing to help me look after her? I need to know she's safe. I need her to know she's safe. You're the best one for the job, and I don't trust anyone else. I know how you feel about her. Cause I feel the same damn way."

"Are you going to tell her?"