Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I t’s probably pathetic that I’m at the diner so early, but I had nothing else to do. I considered going to Owen’s house, I even put on more deodorizers, but when I got the text from Sloane and Ethan, I felt relieved that I didn’t have to invite myself over to his pack's home.

Our relationship has come a long way, but we’re definitely nowhere near sitting around a campfire and talking about our childhood trauma and all of our deep-seated feelings of resentment.

Hard fucking pass.

So instead of sitting in my stale apartment by myself, I’m going to pathetically sit at this diner for an hour and wait for Ethan to finish his shift and for Sloane to get here.

I smirk at myself, thinking about the Omega.

What in the hell is her dad thinking about, letting her work for the team? Don’t get me wrong, she’s clearly amazing at what she does. But good lord, it’s hard not to stare at the sweet, confident redhead.

The diner is a bit of a shithole, but the food is good, so at least that’s a plus. The bell overhead dings at my arrival, and Ethan is holding a tray of drinks and waving at me with a tattooed arm.

“Sloane’s at the last booth in the back,” he says, not able to stay and chat as he goes about his primary day job, which for some reason makes me feel guilty.

It’s clear Ethan is an athlete and cares about being the mascot for the Foxes, he shouldn’t have to work in a place like this too.

I head down the row of booths to the left and see the back of her head. A large man is leaning forward in the booth, invading her space, and I find I don’t like that one fucking bit.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart, you’re here all alone. Let me treat you to dinner,” the man says, and as I approach, it’s clear as day he’s an Alpha.

“No thank you,” Sloane responds, not even looking at the man, just browsing the menu.

“I can tell you’re unbonded. What’s a sweet thing like you doing here all by yourself?” he asks.

I’m finally close enough to the booth, my shoulder pushing the man in question to drop an unexpected kiss on the top of Sloane’s head. I swear I get a hint of her scent in her hair, but I’m pulling back too fast to deal with this asshole to confirm.

“There you are. Sorry for making you wait, baby.”

Her smile widens as she looks up at me. “It’s no problem,” she says in her soft voice.

I look over at my shoulder, the gruff Alpha looking irritated.

“Can I help you, pal?” I ask in a condescending tone.

“You shouldn’t leave your Omega unattended like that. People might get the wrong idea.”

I stand to my full height, having a few inches and way more muscle on this guy. I cross my arms over my chest and make sure Sloane is blocked from his view.

“And what idea would that be?” I ask, making it as uncomfortable as possible.

The man stumbles and waves me off before pouting and stomping his way out of the diner.

“Thanks for the save,” Sloane says as I take the seat across from her.

“Does that shit happen often?” I ask, and she furrows her brow before nodding.

“You haven’t spent time around many Omegas?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“I mean Owen, but when he designated, I was out of the house, and he was always doing everything he could to hide it anyway. Our mom and stepdad are Betas. Speaking of which, how the hell did he know you were an Omega?”

“I’ve been here before. I only started wearing deodorizers,” she says with irritation.

“You don’t hide your scent on purpose?” I ask.

“No. It’s a stipulation for working for the team this year.”

I smirk, and it makes sense. She’s already a slight distraction with her beauty. I’m sure if she was perfuming all over the place, we’d all be tripping on the ice and unable to focus.

“It seems like you’re one of the few Omegas out there who isn’t trying to hide your designation.”

She rips off a straw wrapper, folding it into a perfect square, before placing the straw into her water and taking a sip. Her deep green gaze searches my face.

“You just sound inexperienced. None of your conquests have been Omegas?”

I roll my eyes. “They weren’t conquests. And there weren’t as many as you think, and no, I’ve only ever been with Betas and Alphas.”

That has her stopping her drink, popping her lips off of the straw.

“Men or women?” she asks, her hand twirling her straw.

I rest my arms on the table and smirk at her. “You tell me a secret, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

She squints at me and parts her lips for a moment, then closes them like she’s trying to think about what to say before a smirk takes over her pretty face.

“It needs to be a comparable secret,” I say, noting that I’m being a complete jackass. Flirting not only with the woman who is trying to help me with my reputation, but the coach’s off-limits daughter isn’t my smartest move.

“I was with a female Alpha once,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.

“You didn’t like it?”

“It made me realize my preferences lean more toward men. I think if the right female Alpha came along, it could change things, but our chemistry wasn’t there.”

“The answer is yes, both,” I reply to her earlier question.

“Interesting,” she says as Ethan comes over to our table.

“You guys are unfashionably early. Is there anything I can get for you while you wait?” he asks, taking out his little pad and pen. He’s quite handsome, even with his faded gray T-shirt and questionable apron wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll have the southwest omelet, please,” Sloane says.

“Same,” I reply, and Ethan nods his head as he writes it down.

“Ethan, order’s up,” a female voice says, and Ethan acknowledges them with a wave.

“Sorry, I’ll get that right out, and as soon as my shift is over, I’ll come hang out,” he says, and Sloane gently grabs his wrist.

“Take your time, Ethan. We’re early and in no rush.”

Relief flushes the Beta’s face as he heads back into the busy diner.

“What does interesting mean?” I ask Sloane, going back to our original conversation.

“Huh?” she replies.

“Why is it interesting that I’ve been with both men and women?”

“Oh, just that you were only ever pictured with women in the tabloids. So your interest in men comes as a surprise,” she says matter of fact, and my guard drops suddenly, realizing there isn’t judgment, just surprise.

“How many of these tabloids have you sifted through?” I ask, feeling some shame wash back. I don’t want Sloane to think I’m this untrustworthy man whore. I don’t know why I care so much about what she thinks, but I do.

“Which one are you most worried about, Mr. Connery?” she asks, and I can tell she’s teasing me. Whatever she sees on my face has her hand reaching out and grabbing mine over the table. “I don’t judge you, Max, if that’s what you’re worried about. There’s nothing wrong with exploring your sexuality. I’m sure that it’s hard being in the public eye.”

I lick my lips and don’t pull away my hand. Hers feels so small and smooth against my own.

“It was mostly to curb the loneliness,” I say, and as soon as it leaves my mouth, I regret it. How entirely fucking pathetic of me, spilling my guts to this Omega. I go to pull my hand away, but the fierce woman grabs my hand even harder, not letting me.

“Hey,” she snaps, forcing me to look at her. I don’t see pity there, just passionate honesty. “Thank you for being honest. Being lonely sucks. But you have friends now.”

“You and mascot?” I say.

“Don’t call him that. You know his name,” she says in a no bullshit tone. It does something to me. God, I’m going to get kicked off this team quicker than I’m on it if I keep flirting with her. But she said we’re friends. I can be friends with a pretty, straight forward Omega, right?

“You and Ethan,” I repeat, feeling guilty for referring to him as just mascot. It was rude.

“Yes, Ethan and I are your friends. We’re both here to help your image and be your friends.”

“Don’t you have a ton of other people you’d rather be hanging out with?” I ask her, and she sighs.

“We’ve only lived here for two seasons. It’s hard to make friends when everyone your age is finishing college or starting their lives. I’ve become friends with Piper, Charlotte, and a few other WAGs, but they’re both super busy. Piper is working on her fellowship, and Charlotte has her hands full with the kids. So we’re not all that different, Max.”

“So you’re lonely too?” I ask her.

She looks down at our joint hands and then back up at me. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

For the first time, I look at her beyond her designation or beauty, and I think I found a kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places.

We joke while we eat, and it comes so naturally, just eating dinner together and talking. I learn that Sloane likes organization, fashion, her favorite flowers are peonies, and she doesn’t eat red meat. I tell her about my rookie season, some of my childhood, and what it was like living in California.

We’ve eaten and drank as much as we can stomach, and the diner finally slows down.

A disheveled Ethan unties his apron, bundling it in his fist. Sloane scoots over, and the Beta smiles before sitting next to her, an exhausted huff leaving him as he gets comfortable.

“Thanks for waiting,” he says, and Sloane leans in.

“You smell like waffles,” she says.

His dark brows furrow. “I’m a Beta. What do you mean?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have a scent, maybe not one that perfumes. You must smell like waffles from working in the kitchen. I like it,” she says, and I note she gets even closer to the Beta.

Why do I feel slightly jealous? And why am I not sure who I’m jealous of? Because to be quite frank, I’d like to sit between both of them.

Christ, maybe I need to go home and jerk off to get some of this tension out.

They are my friends, not my conquests like Sloane so casually put it.

“Oh.” Ethan’s cheeks heat, and Sloane touches his arm.

I’ve hardly spent time with Sloane, but it's clear physical touch is casual and yet needed for her.

“How was your shift?” she asks.

“Same shit, different day. My foster dad owns the place. All of my foster siblings and I work here. Well, minus a few,” he says with a shrug.

“That’s sweet. I’d love to meet him sometime,” Sloane says.

“Yeah, sure. So the Humane Society event?” Ethan says, changing the subject.

“Right, well, you already saw the costume, but I was thinking maybe you need a signature song and dance.”

“A dance?” I say, covering my mouth with laughter.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing when Finnegan the Fox is trending and you’re not, Mr. Connery,” Sloane says.

Why does she have to be refreshing and call me out on my shit?

“I can definitely do that. I’m off tomorrow, if you want to help. If not, I can totally send you clips or something,” Ethan says.

“I wish I could, but the antichrist is in town,” Sloane replies.

“The antichrist?” I question.

“Yeah, my grandmother.”

Ethan and I both laugh, and Sloane takes a sip of her drink.

“She’s that bad?” I ask.

“Yeah, she’s that bad. She came to town early, and I only saw her for all of about five minutes when I was asked why I don’t have a pack or why I’m not pregnant yet.”

It’s one of those times I should bite my tongue, but per usual, I don’t, the words spilling off my stupid tongue.

“Well, why don’t you?”

Sloane and Ethan both cut me a glare so severe that if looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot.

“I didn’t mean that to be rude. I’m just genuinely so confused as to why you’re single. Are you hoping to find your scent match or something?”

Ethan still looks like he wants to punch me in the arm, but Sloane softens and sighs.

“I may be a hopeless romantic, and despite what’s happened on the team for Charlotte and Owen, I know how rare scent matches are. I’m not going to put my life on pause for a three percent chance in finding that perfect pheromone match. But I am looking for the perfect pack for me , and I have a lot of stipulations. One being I don’t want to join a pre-established pack.”

Ethan and I look at each other, clearly the both of us clueless as hell when it comes to packs.

“What’s wrong with a pre-established pack?” I ask.

She rests her chin against the palm of her hand.

“Nothing. There’s just something romantic about the idea of me being the reason my packmates love each other. I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

Ethan tosses his arm behind her in the booth as he smiles down at her.

“It makes sense to me. You’re the Omega, so the pack centers on you,” he says.

“Does that make me sound like a spoiled brat?”

“No, it sounds like you know your worth,” Ethan says.

It’s at that moment I realize I’m not worthy of either of them, not their friendship or this attraction I’m trying to shove down. But I’m going to try not only to become a valued team member, but a true friend to the two kind-hearted people across from me.

Your younger brother being your coach is honestly the worst experience of my life, and that’s saying something.

“Your left side is weak. You’ve gotta practice more,” he says, and I think about taking off my skate and slitting my own throat.

It’s very melodramatic, but I remember I have two friends to live for now. Not to mention I’m fueled by competitiveness and to prove to my little brother that I’m just as good as he is.

So instead of talking back, I’m silent, going through drills and doing what I’ve been doing for the last five years.

Coach Applegate blows the whistle, announcing we’re going to run a scrimmage. The backup goalie, Gagnon, is on the other side, and I’m stuck with Nilsen, Boucher, and Ahonen on defense.

“Try not to fuck this up and make us all look like shit,” Nilsen says in a sharp tone, and I take a deep breath.

I honestly have no fucking clue what his issue is with me. It’s like he decided he hated me our rookie year and just never let it go. Whatever his deal is, I wish he would move the fuck on and stop being such a monumental prick.

“Nilsen, let it go man,” Boucher says, being the sweet Canadian prince he is.

The dickhead defenseman doesn’t give him any shit as he just skates away, and I try to refocus on the scrimmage at hand.

I don’t let any goals in, and my team scores two, which has me feeling a little better about my position on the team.

“Still need to work on that left side,” my brother says as I skate off the ice.

Again, I just nod and hold my tongue as we funnel into the locker room, despite how much I want to tell him to leave me the fuck alone and to please get another job. When I was traded, I didn’t know my baby brother was going to be coaching the goalies. At least I’ll get a break from him on away games.

I just need to lie low, do a good job, and get a more permanent contract. Or get traded to another fucking team.

But even the thought of going somewhere else sours my stomach. I don’t want to start over. I like the weather and getting closer to Owen, even if he is a dick right now. But most of all, there’s something more with Sloane and Ethan. They might be the people I’ve gotten closest to since I joined the NHL, which is so pathetic. But last night meant something to me.

It might have been a meeting over basic diner food for Ethan and Sloane, but for me, it’s the first time in a long time I’ve felt like me again. I smile to myself as I think about the three of us laughing and talking over pie last night.

The Foxes are going to be my team, and if dealing with Nilsen’s surly attitude is part of that, then so be it.