Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

“ S kate faster,” Coach yells from where he’s idling on the ice.

Yeah, he’s fucking pissed.

I was already sore from fucking his daughter straight for a week, so this takes the cake.

Either way, it’s worth it.

He can make me do as many drills as he wants. I’m not going anywhere.

She said she loved me.

I smile to myself as I skate over the goal line and catch my breath.

“Are you fucking smiling during suicides?” Martel pants next to me.

“You’d be smiling too,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes at me as we skate to the bench to grab water.

“Well, I’m not smiling because we all know that drill was punishment for you touching… no… defiling the coach’s daughter.”

“Fuck off.”

“What I want to know is how the fuck did that go with Connery there? Don’t you hate his guts?”

“Yes,” I reply sharply.

“Yes, you hate him? Yes, what?”

“I’m working on my hatred of him.”

Martel smacks my shoulder. “I think this is what they call maturing or personal growth.”

“I didn’t say I liked him.”

“Right. Is this one of those enemies to lovers things?”

I bump him hard with my hip, and he laughs, spitting his water out of his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Coach Applegate asks, standing before us.

“Nothing, sir,” I reply.

“Are you su—” I slap Martel in the stomach before he can finish his sentence.

“I’d like to see you and Connery in my office after practice,” Coach says before skating off.

Martel makes a hissing noise next to me.

“Oh shit. Do you think he’s going to clean his shotgun at his desk while he tells you how disappointed he is? Or maybe he’ll just stare at you and Connery, letting his disappointment leak through the silence.”

“Don’t you have a whole family to bother? Stop being annoying.”

Martel grins as Eli Beckford skates up and tosses his arm around his packmate. Must be nice to get along and have already been best friends before they found the Omega of their dreams.

“How’s Sloane?” Eli asks.

“Good,” I lie because I don’t know how she’s doing. She was sleeping for fucking ever, and we were basically told by Coach that if we didn’t show up to practice, we would be benched for the foreseeable future.

“Glad to hear it, and glad to have you back. You’ll need to download a tracker on your phone so you can predict her next heat.”

“Not that it’s ever truly accurate,” Mikael mumbles.

Eli winces and holds up a few fingers and winces. “That will probably put her next heat in late March, early April.”

It could be worse, but around that time is when teams are playing extra hard to clinch a playoff spot.

“That’s a good tip, thank you.”

“Oh, he gets a thank you?” Mikael complains.

“He was helpful. You’ve been a pain in my ass.”

“Well, have fun explaining to Coach just how long you’ve been chasing his Omega daughter around,” he says before skating off.

Eli sighs at his packmate and smacks my shoulder.

“He won’t want to hurt Sloane. You’ll be fine,” he says, and it feels like a lie.

Either way, I’m headed to the locker room and changing. Connery and I are the last ones left and give each other a glance.

We haven’t spoken since our little truce moment.

And to be quite honest, the jealousy filling me over thinking about him with my Omega and Beta is making this truce feel more than far-fetched.

We don’t speak as we both make the tormented walk to Coach’s office.

His door is open, and we both walk in and take our respective seats across from his desk. His hands are steepled with his fingertips pressed against his lips.

It’s a terse silence before Coach breathes through his nose and rests back into his chair.

“You two have put me in a really shitty fucking position,” he says.

Neither of us speaks. I think talking right now would piss him off more.

“I’m not deluded enough to think my daughter isn’t the main instigator of all of this?—”

“I’m her scent match,” Connery interrupts.

I think at that moment both the coach and I want to punch him in the throat.

“Did I ask you to speak? No. I don’t think I did,” Coach says, not giving a shit about Connery being his daughter’s scent match. I can’t help it when my lips tilt. “The fuck are you smiling about, Nilsen?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Coach scrubs his hands down his face and taps on his desk.

“You’ll need to get your current contracts amended and file for a pack contract,” he says.

“Sir, we’re not bonded,” Connery says.

Why does he keep talking and making this worse?

Coach arches an eyebrow at him, and anger is written all over his face.

“Is your intent to just miss games, be her scent match, and not bond her? Because if that’s the case, we have a bigger fucking problem.”

I’m more than used to Coach cursing, but even for him, this conversation has had a lot of fucks.

“I fully intend on bonding with Sloane,” I interrupt and glare at Connery.

Yeah, fuck you, buddy, we’ve already talked about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to bond with her, it’s just there hasn’t been any time to discuss it on my end,” Max snaps back.

“Right, because she didn’t choose you, did she?” I reply.

“For the love of God. You two need to figure your shit out on the ice and back at home. Sloane is my daughter, and I love her more than anything, but I won’t risk the team’s chances of going to the playoffs because you two are in a pissing contest. And when it comes to my daughter, I’m not going to stand by and watch you two rip her spirit apart. Sloane has a big heart and will put her feelings aside to make you two happy. If you truly care about her, you won’t put her in that position.”

He’s right; I know he’s right.

I glance over at Connery, and he does the same to me.

“We’ll talk to Sloane.”

“And your agents,” Coach snaps.

“Yes, sir,” we reply in unison.

Coach nods his head, a clear dismissal as we both stand up and make our way to leave his office. He clears his throat.

“And, gentlemen? You hurt my daughter and I’ll ensure you never play professional hockey again,” he says, spinning his chair and likely plotting the different ways he could kill the both of us.

“Pack contract?” Connery asks.

I sigh and try to not get irritated with him.

“It’s what Martel and Beckford have. It would tie our incomes and our trading possibilities together. Wherever you go, I go,” I say, the idea churning in my stomach.

“So if the Foxes dropped us?” he asks.

“We’d have to be picked up as a duo by another team.”

I hate the idea of tying myself to Connery, not only for Sloane, but also my career. I’m sure I can work on not holding this grudge, but I don’t know if I’ll ever truly like the man. But the fact is, there aren’t a lot of goalie slots, and my career would be completely correlated to his.

“I mean, Coach wouldn’t drop us over this?” he says, the same thoughts catching up with him.

“We can only hope his love for Sloane and wanting to keep her close outweighs his anger with us,” I say.

My own words hit me hard in the chest.

Because my love for Sloane outweighs the stupid, bitter anger I’ve held against Max all these years. I’m letting my feud with him go, but sharing my Omega with another Alpha is a completely different story.

I guess it’s time to start maturing.

“Should we head back to Sloane’s?” Max asks.

I roll my eyes and walk away.

How did I ever have a crush on this fucking moron?

I don’t go to Sloane’s right away. Instead, I work out to relieve some more tension before going home and packing a small bag in hopes that she asks me to stay the night.

I have even higher hopes that she agrees to come and move in with me. Her apartment is way too small, and if we finish the basement of this house, I’d be able to build her the nest she deserves and two more bedrooms. That would give the three of us our own rooms, a pack bedroom, plus a guest room.

The fact that Max is not in my building plans is not lost on me, and I sigh, knowing it's inevitable.

Maybe I’m bitter that I’m not Sloane’s scent match.

If anyone should be her scent match, it should fucking be me. Max has no clue what he’s doing, and Sloane deserves Alphas who know how to take care of her.

Hell, in my eyes, Ethan is more capable than Max will ever be.

Another pang of jealousy fills me.

Max fucked Ethan.

Max fucked Ethan before I could fuck Ethan.

I groan and sit on my couch, wondering if I’m even capable of taking the high road. How do I keep Sloane happy? How do I keep myself happy?

Maybe I need therapy, or maybe we need pack therapy.

Because I can’t keep Sloane happy if I’m constantly riddled with jealousy, bitterness, and resentment.

But the idea of saying what started this resentment is embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as needing therapy before we’re even bonded.

I’m about to text Sloane to see if she needs anything before I head over when there’s a knock on my door. I heft myself up off the couch and open the door to find a watery-eyed Sloane and Ethan’s very full truck in my driveway.

“So is that offer to move in still good?” she asks, and I blink at her with surprise.

“Of course it is. What happened?”

She sucks her teeth and sighs. “My dad might have fired me,” she says as I grab the tote bag off of her shoulder.

“He what?”

“To be fair, I did break all of my promises I made to him when starting the job. But also, I was great at what I did. He’s handling this whole thing poorly, and I’m an adult who can make my own choices. So I’m choosing not to live there anymore as long as the offer is still on the table.”

“Yes, come in,” I tell her as I look her over.

She looks exhausted. I cup my hands on her face and stroke her cheekbones with my thumbs.

“What do you need?” I ask her.

She just wraps her arms around my waist and smothers me in a tight hug.

“I just need my pack,” she says.

“Tell Max he is invited over, then.”

Sloane pulls back, and the tears in her eyes really well. “Really?”

“I mean an extra hand to move all your shit into your new house wouldn’t hurt.”

She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tightly.

“Thank you for trying. It means everything to me,” she says.

My chest rumbles from her words, and she doesn’t let me go. I missed her today so much. And now she’s moving into my home.

I can do this. We can do this. We’ll get through these growing pains.

Our hug is interrupted as Ethan walks in with a plastic tub and sets it on the floor.

“So are you going to use those big Alpha muscles to help carry in our girl’s stuff? Or am I the only one getting left out of the hugs right now?”

I pull one arm from Sloane, and Ethan smirks as he joins this ridiculously sappy hug.

“I’m actually a few weeks behind on rent if the offer to move in also extends to me,” Ethan says.

“Tough call. What do you think, Sloane?”

“Definitely. I guess it’s only fair I help you pack since you helped me,” she says with a smile.

“More so followed your very specific and detailed orders on how you wanted things packed.”

“I do have more stuff, but I only brought the essentials for now. I also guess that I don’t have a job, so I can’t exactly pay rent either,” Sloane says with a wince.

“You won’t be paying rent,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she says easily and hugs me again.

“Just like that?” I say.

“I’m an Omega. My mom never had a standard job, she wrote, but it was something she loved. If you wanted me to contribute, I’d find something I can do from home, but if you’re happy taking care of me, I’m going to let you.”

“I would also like to be taken care of,” Ethan says, and we all laugh.

“You can’t stop being the mascot, but you could probably quit the diner. I mean, as long as your dad can hire someone to fill in your spot,” Sloane says.

I’m not even mad because I was going to suggest the same. I need Ethan home with her when I’m away for games.

“Really?” he asks, looking at me.

“Yes, really. The diner has you working too late. If there’s something from home you want to do, fine. But I think it’s best if you’re here with Sloane when I’m traveling for work.”

“I’m finally going to be living my dream of being a kept Beta,” Ethan jokes.

“Let’s get your stuff settled into my bedroom, and we can order Chinese.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll invite Max,” Sloane says easily before heading outside.

“Light lifting only,” I shout behind her, and she waves her hand.

Ethan glances up at me and pokes my side. “This is all very mature, Mr. Nilsen.”

“I’m fucking trying,” I mumble.

He fists my shirt and tugs me down for a gentle kiss.

“I know you are. She knows you are. Give him a chance. I promise he’s not the man you knew all those years ago,” Ethan says before going outside to help Sloane.

Max might not be the same man five years ago, but I am. I need to make sure he doesn’t go back to his old ways and hurt Sloane in the process.