I wait for the noise to die down a little before continuing. "We did it together." I turn to face my teammates, clustered around me on the ice. "This team right here, we gave everything we had." I look back toward the stands. "And you, all of you, never stopped cheering for us. Even when we were down by three and it looked hopeless, you kept cheering. That means more than you know."
Another wave of cheers rolls through the arena. I can see kids in Puckers jerseys going crazy, their parents smiling at how excited they are. This is what it's about. This is why we play.
"And there's also… someone else," I say, and my voice softens as I look up at the VIP box. "Someone who showed up exactly when we needed her most. Someone who believed in us when we'd stopped believing in ourselves."
Felix's hand lands on my shoulder. He knows where I'm going with this. Liam skates up on my other side, nodding, encouraging.
"Naomi," I say into the mic.
Her name echoes through the arena, and the stadium camera swings toward the VIP box, her face suddenly filling the jumbotron for everyone to see.
"We want you to know that—"
I stop as she steps back from the glass. Her hand lifts, but I don't think she's waving hello since she's shaking her head too.
"Naomi, could you come down to the—"
My words die in my throat, as she turns and bolts.
Actually.
Like the building's on fire.
What the fuck?
Chapter twenty-nine
Naomi
I burst through the arena doors like I'm being chased by wolves. My body's on autopilot, my shoes pound the pavement.
He called me on the ice. In front of the ENTIRE TOWN.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
The thought sends another surge of panic through me and I run faster. Past approximately thirty-four Christmas decorations that definitely weren't there before the game. When did they add more lights? Are those new reindeer? Is that Santa mechanical or is there an actual person in that suit waving at me as I sprint past?
My lungs burn. My feet scream. But I keep running because apparently my omega has decided that flight is the only acceptable response to public declarations of... whatever that was about to be.
Behind me, I hear footsteps. Heavy, pounding footsteps that are definitely not casual pedestrians. And carried on the cold night air, a delicious scent reaches my nostrils.
I risk a glance back.
Oh god. They're chasing me.
They've swapped their skates for sneakers, but otherwise they look like they came straight off the ice. Still in their jerseys, their hair wild, their eyes wilder. They look absolutely unhinged.
And they're gaining on me.
This makes me run harder, which makes absolutely no sense. I'm away from the arena now, there are no cameras, no jumbotron, no crowd. The threat of public embarrassment is gone. And yet here we are. My omega has completely taken over my body and it seems like she refuses to be caught so easily.
I take a hard left at the corner by the bookstore, nearly wiping out on a patch of ice. My foot catches, skids, but I recover and keep going. Another right. Through the town square. Another left past a bakery. I have no idea where I'm going.
Finally, my body gives out. I duck around another corner and collapse against a brick wall, gasping after what feels like a semi-marathon. My hair has completely abandoned any pretense of style, and I'm pretty sure I lost an earring somewhere around block three. From somewhere nearby, I can hear carolers warming up, their voices carrying through the cold night air.
Okay. Okay. Breathe, Naomi.
I'm an adult. I can have a conversation like a rational human being. Away from the ice. Away from the cameras. There is absolutely no logical reason to keep running.
