Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

B reakfast is tense as ever at my parents’ house. I know why, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

It’s a new season for the Foxes, and my Alpha father, head coach, Kristoff Applegate, does not want me coming back to work for his team.

Too fucking bad because I’m coming back, for reasons he would probably hate. I’m willing to negotiate to keep my job, but I’m not going to be the one who cracks first. If he doesn’t want me coming back to help manage the social media for the team, he’s going to have to fire me, and I know he doesn’t have the guts to do it.

It’s probably terrible that I know I can manipulate my own dad, but it’s entirely too easy. His guilt over feeling like an absent parent when I was younger is just too palpable. I don’t blame him, nor do I feel abandoned by him, but it’s still how he feels. It’s the whole reason he let me work for the Foxes last season. He wanted more time with me, and he wanted to ease some of his guilt.

Well, if I have to use this guilt to keep my job, I will.

It’s not even that I especially like doing the team’s social media. It’s that I have a plan in place, and I will not let him ruin this for me. He’d be so pissed if he knew my ulterior motives, and maybe he has an inkling of what I’m up to, but I’m ready to deal with the fallout when it happens.

My mother Rosemary is the one to cut the silence. It’s not a surprise; she’s a no bullshit lawyer who has no problem pushing around her Alpha designation when she needs to.

“So are we just going to be silent all breakfast, or is someone going to speak first?” she asks.

“Breakfast is delicious, honey,” my Beta dad, Henderson, says to my mom, Willow.

“Thanks, baby,” she says to him, and he grins at her.

Our family dynamic is basically stamped in concrete. It hasn’t changed much since my childhood. My Alpha parents are the more strict and serious ones while my Beta dad and Omega mom tend to be more relaxed about things. It can be chaotic sometimes. But I can’t deny that I love it—it’s exactly what I want for myself. I want a pack where everyone loves everyone and it’s just one giant love fest like I grew up with.

Working for the Foxes is part of that.

“Sloane, sweetie—” my father starts, and I cut him off.

“No, I’m coming back to work for the Foxes. Liz is expecting me to help. I don’t want to be cooped up in my apartment all day, and I love working with the team…and you,” I say quickly.

My exhausted father rubs his massive palm against his face. He’s the biggest person in my parental pack but also the biggest softie.

“Listen, I love having you around, believe me. But I think…” he trails off.

“Kristoff Applegate, if you call our Omega daughter a distraction, I will poison your food next time,” my mom steps up for me.

Willow Applegate is a formidable force, and I learned how to be an Omega from her.

Take no bullshit or prisoners is her Omega motto. It’s how you get what you want. She taught me to love my designation and how to use it to my advantage, something I’m sure my father is loathing right about now.

“Not a distraction, it’s just some of the guys seem to have a hard time focusing when you’re around. We won the cup last year, and we have a lot of new members on the team. There’s a lot of pressure on my shoulders, and I don’t want to have to worry about looking over my shoulder. Especially now that not one, but two Omegas have been drugged in my fucking stadium,” he says.

Okay, I’m going to have to do more negotiating than I thought.

“I’ll go on suppressants and use deodorizers,” I spit out. My mom gasps and clutches her chest like I said I’m going to commit murder.

“You should not have to conform or put chemicals in your body to make others around you comfortable,” she gasps.

“If that’s what it takes to be on the Foxes, I’ll do it. At least let me stay till my birthday,” I plead with him.

I can get what I need by February 14th. It’s cliché, being a Valentine’s baby with red hair and an absolutely, hopelessly romantic heart, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am.

“Have you put more consideration into seeing the matchmaker?” my mother Rosemary asks.

None of my parents are stupid enough to mention a dating site or the desire to push me into pack life in front of Mom. She’s a firm believer that Omegas can happily have their heat serviced by friendly Alphas and that no Omega should be forced to bond and pack up early, least of all before they truly know themselves. She even wrote a book on it.

I might be the most well-adjusted Omega I know, and she’s the reason why.

“I’ve considered it,” I lie.

I’ve actually been plotting out my dream pack for months now, just waiting for the season to start, but I keep that slightly psychotic behavior to myself. There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want and pursuing it. If anything, it’s my family’s fault for giving me the best home life ever and wanting to emulate it for myself.

“Suppressants, deodorizers, and you agree to meet the matchmaker? Then fine, you can keep your job,” my dad says, knowing if he doesn’t agree, he’s going to be metaphorically in the doghouse and physically on the couch.

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, wrapping my arms around the larger-than-life man.

“I mean it. You don’t hold up the end of your deal, I don’t hold up mine.”

“Yes, Coach,” I say mockingly as I go around the table and hug each of my parents before I head to my apartment to get ready.

I round the corner of the kitchen and listen to their conversation before I leave, force of habit, I suppose. I was fascinated with pack life growing up and found myself wanting to know what my parents were up to.

“She flirts with all the players. I won’t fucking survive this season. I’m already going fucking gray, Rosemary,” my dad complains, and I cover my mouth with my hand to cover a laugh.

“Well, she’s our daughter,” my mother replies.

“Plus, she can flirt with whomever she wants. I’m sure the boys eat it up. If anything, Sloane could motivate them to play better. Who wouldn’t want to impress the coach's Omega daughter?” my mom chips in, and I shake my head.

God, I love that woman.

“You only have yourself to blame for giving her the job in the first place,” my dad says, calling him out on his shit.

“Henderson, you’re lucky I need to head off to work or else I’d…”

Yup, that’s my cue to get the hell out of here. I round the corner and leave the back door. My “apartment” is above the detached garage that my family doesn’t use, but I’m thankful for my own space. As soon as I turned eighteen, I needed some separation from my family. Not that I don’t love them dearly, but I’ve seen and heard too much, plus I needed my own private space.

Everything in my apartment is neatly put together and clean. I’m a little particular when it comes to my private space. That’s a lie. I’m pretty particular about almost everything in my life. I like things organized and looking a certain way, I don’t like a mess, and I like having control to a certain extent.

I think it’s why I lean into my Omega nature so much. I control what I can, and I let go of what I can’t. I know I need a pack, and I’m getting organized and working on that. I know I’ll go into heat within the year, and I also have multiple scenarios on how to handle that situation when it comes along.

I have needs, and I have a plan on getting them met as soon as possible. One of them is a very moody defenseman I haven’t stopped thinking about for months. I wonder what it’s going to be like when I finally get to scent him again, probably amazing. There might also be a Beta flying under the radar who has caught my attention.

The exhale that leaves me is draining as I pick out my outfit for the day. All of my clothes except my underwear and socks are hung up because I can’t stand wrinkles or the smell of clothes after they’ve been sitting in a drawer.

I don’t have to dress exceptionally nice for my job, but I always put in some effort, mostly because I have a defenseman to impress. My favorite color is green, and I grab the emerald green midi dress. It’s modest, the neckline covering my collarbone and the sleeves hitting my elbows. I pair it with a pair of knee-high boots and top it with a black blazer and gold accessories.

Maybe I should have worn Foxes’ colors?

No, green is absolutely my color, and I stick with it as I gather up my briefcase. I already have my laptop ready to go and charged and multiple laminated files at the ready. I’ve memorized all the new players, their numbers, and their appearance so I can be professional.

Liz, the marketing manager for the team, will be impressed. She’s great at what she does, but she doesn’t truly understand a lot of the social media trends, and with each new app that pops up, I help her navigate that.

I also get a lot of face-to-face time with the team. It’s hard to deny that I undoubtedly have a thing for hockey players. I’ve grown up around hockey. When my dad played, I had small crushes on his teammates, and then when he started coaching, I grew crushes on his players. It’s hard not to; they’re just so big and violent but also total softies.

My father knows the monster he’s created, and it’s another reason he wants me to find a different job. Actually, I think if he had a choice, he would choose for me to not work at all. Honestly, I think I’d rather not work at all either. But this job puts me in close proximity to the most eligible pack members I can find, and I’m not letting that opportunity go.

Fuck the matchmaker. I’m making my own fate.

The team just finished their workouts and have moved to the conference room. It smells like the most delicious man-brothel I could imagine, but I school my face and don’t let the Alpha pheromones distract me. Well, I mean as much as I can. I did wear deodorizers like I promised, and my panties are ultra absorbent in case I get a little too turned on. The suppressants… not so much.

As much as I may have ulterior motives for wanting this position, I still need to do a good job.

“Welcome, team. We’re coming off a cup win, which means everyone is going to have a microscope on us this year. I want to keep this momentum going. I know we have some major changes in our lineup, but we’re lucky to have Connery and Bandnin join us as coaching staff. They will be here for home games and practices,” my dad says.

The Alpha and Omega duo give a nod of agreement, and I can’t help but to smile at them. I’ve gotten closer to Piper in recent months, and I know they’re just the happiest little family. I want that for myself. If Owen could do it while winning a Stanley cup, I can certainly do it from the sidelines.

“There are other faces that are back with us this season.” My father goes down the line with the owners, coaching staff, training staff, equipment manager, marketing, and then finally gets to me.

“Many of you know my daughter, Sloane,” he says, pointing at me. “I won’t tolerate any disrespect or ungentlemanly behavior. Treat her like she’s your daughter too. There is an absolute no tolerance policy to violence or abuse of Omegas in this stadium, do you understand?”

My cheeks heat, and my nose scrunches. I definitely don’t want to be treated like anyone else’s daughter but his own. But I leave it for now and look around to my left where a man raises his hand to get my father’s attention. He always gets lost in the crowd, despite being handsome and lean with dark, shaggy hair, soft green eyes, and a five o’clock shadow.

I may or may not frequent the diner he works at on occasion to get a glimpse of him. He keeps to himself, and I wonder why he doesn’t put himself out there more. But there’s definitely something special about the attractive Beta. He makes me want to find out what’s going on under the mask.

“And that’s the mascot, Finnegan,” my father says.

“Ethan, sir,” the Beta replies.

“Right. Get suited up, and let’s get on the fucking ice,” my father says, dismissing Ethan completely.

He doesn’t look put out, just like he’s used to it. He lags behind as the team and staff pile out of the room. It was so full I didn’t even see Bram. I sigh out of frustration.

Ethan is grabbing a bottle of water and looking a little sad and left out, so I can’t help myself when I find myself approaching him. I’ve been wanting to get to know him better for awhile now, I just didn’t know if he was someone who would be more of a friend or potentially more. There are Betas who want nothing to do with pack life, which wouldn’t work for me. Pack life means everything to me.

“Sorry if my dad was an ass,” I say.

“I’m used to it,” he says, and then his cheeks heat adorably. “Not saying your dad’s an ass. Just saying no one really gives a shit about the mascot.”

“You know, I handle a lot of the team’s social media,” I say.

“Yeah, of course I know,” he says, a small little dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth; it’s precious. More than precious as he leans against the wall and crosses his arms. He isn’t big like the hockey players, but he has clear defined muscle and black and gray tattoos lacing up his arms.

He’s hot, and I’m not sure if he truly knows how gorgeous he is.

“Maybe I could help you get noticed more,” I say with a flirty smile.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

I shrug and hold my clipboard close to my chest. “Everybody loves an underdog.”

I leave the meeting room with those words hanging, and something deep inside of me wants to see this Beta succeed.

And quite possibly, something even more.