That gets a real grin out of me.
“Oh, I did. But Lincoln called dibs on her being in his room tonight, so you’ll have to be creative.”
We shower after, and the room is loud and filled with shit talk like always—but things feel different now. Charged. Like we’re all walking around with a live wire under our skin. We shut the water off and grab our towels, steam clinging to us as we step out. I drag the towel over my hair, down my back, and then around my waist as we move toward our lockers.
That’s when the muttering starts. I hear it before Milton does.
“She’s bouncing between all three of them. Not even their scent matches.”
“Bet she’s just a puck-chaser.”
“Typical omega slut.”
Milton’s towel snaps tight around his waist as his body goes rigid. His hands curl into fists so hard his knuckles go white. I see it—the second before he moves.
I grab him by the arm.
“Don’t,” I growl under my breath.
The guy who said it laughs, low and ugly. “What? Hit a nerve?”
I step forward before Milton can. “You keep running your mouth,” I say calmly, “and I’ll break your jaw so bad you won’t be able to eat solid food for six months.”
Locker doors slam shut. Someone coughs. The guy scoffs, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. He grabs his deodorant, swipes it on too fast, then turns away.
Milton exhales shakily beside me.
We finish getting dressed in silence—deodorant, clothes, skates shoved into bags, helmets clipped without a word. No one looks our way.
We don’t say anything else. We just leave.
The air outside is cold as we push through the doors and head into the parking lot. Our boots crunch against gravel, bags slung over shoulders, breath puffing out in short clouds.
That’s when Milton snaps.
“What the fuck was that?” he barks, stopping short and turning on me. “Why didn’t you let me fuck those bastards up?”
I pause by my truck, keys in hand, and look at him. His face is flushed, eyes burning. Not angry for himself. For her.
I can’t help it—I chuckle.
He glares. “This isn’t funny.”
“I know,” I say, unlocking the door. “Just wild seeing the day you’re the one trying to beat the shit out of someone and I’m the one stopping it.”
“That’s not the point,” he snaps. “They called her?—”
“I know what they said,” I cut in. “And I wanted to break bones too. But we can’t,” I continue. “Because fights with our own team don’t get us traded. They don’t help us. And they sure as hell don’t help her.”
Milton’s shoulders drop just a fraction.
“And if we came home bruised or pissed off,” I add, “our omega would notice. She’d think it was her fault.”
That does it.
Milton exhales, running a hand through his damp hair. “Fuck,” he mutters.
“We walk the narrow path for now,” I say, opening the truck and tossing my bag inside. “Because of her. Everything we do is for her.”
