She sends back a photo—a basket of half-eaten wings from last night.
Bayleigh: Guess I’m safe, then.
Me: For now.
I grin at the screen like an idiot. My head’s buzzing—not from caffeine, but from her.
I know this is reckless. Korbin already gave me shit for even talking to her, but if he knew I was still texting her? Still thinking about her? He’d lose his mind.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am out of my damn mind.
But it doesn’t stop me.
Bayleigh: So… what happens next time our brothers fight?
Me: We place bets. Loser buys wings.
Bayleigh: Deal.
It’s such a small thing, that word. But it feels like a start.
I scroll back through our messages before setting my phone down. Every line feels like a little piece of her voice, even though I’ve never heard it.
There’s something about her—soft but strong, sweet but not naïve. She doesn’t flinch around me, doesn’t play coy, doesn’t tiptoe like so many do when they find out who I am. She’s just… Bayleigh.
And that’s the problem.
Because the more I talk to her, the less she feels like some rival player’s omega sister, and the more she feels like someone I’m not supposed to want.
My phone buzzes one last time.
Bayleigh: Talk to you later, Lincoln.
Me: Count on it, Bayleigh.
I watch the dots fade from the chat, the conversation finally ending after all the back-and-forth. The mint and green tea scent’s long gone, but it’s still stuck in my head, threaded through everything like static.
From the garage, the faint clang of Milton’s scent and metal weights drifts through the house—steady, grounding, real life moving on while I sit here replaying her words.
I scroll back through the thread one more time, a stupid grin tugging at my mouth.
Yeah. I’m screwed.
Because somewhere between last night and now, she stopped feeling like a sexy meet-cute and started feeling like trouble I actually want.
13
Milton
It’s beena few days since I had that conversation with Lincoln about Bayleigh. It should’ve gone in one ear and out the other, but it didn’t. Instead, it’s been there festering like a wound. I’ve never seen Lincoln act this way about an omega before. What is it about her that’s burrowed its way under his skin, taking hold of him so tightly? He’s never been with an omega for more than a night or two. Always upfront with them that it’s only about sex, nothing more. But now he seems to have made a complete turnaround.
He’s always on his phone, texting her, and most surreal of all things, smiling. A genuine true smile. Yeah, he’s done it before, but it’s never been directed at a woman, omega or beta. I can’t deny she’s a gorgeous girl. Sweet, too, from what I saw. Hell, if it weren’t for who her brother was, I’d probably be trying to shoot my shot too.
Benton Lennox. Just thinking the name leaves a sour taste in my mouth. The guy’s been under Korbin’s skin for years, and I guess I let it rub off on me.
But the truth? The whole mess started with Gina. She screwed them both up, played one against the other until everyone got burned. Since then, it’s been an all-out battle whenever they’re on the ice together. I can’t even imagine what’s going to happen now if this thing with Lincoln and Lennox's sister continues.
Reaching into my cubbie, I take out my practice jersey and pull it over my head. It’s time for practice, and I need to clear my mind. Both Korbin and I need to keep our eyes on the prize. We both want off this team, and staying out of trouble and being the best in our positions is the only way to do it. If we knew when we were recruited to the Scorpions that they’d be turning into a sinking ship, we would’ve taken one of our other offers. Even the Krakens wanted us, but in a way it’s a good thing we weren’t on that team when Gina Gate took place.
