Miles can’t stop laughing. It’s raw, honest, and booming; gaining the attention of others around us.
“You’re going to give him a complex,” he wheezes. “Please don’t hiss at him.”
“I’ll try not to,” I promise, loving the way he pulls me closer to kiss me.
Everyone is staring at us as we come up for air, and my alpha doesn’t give two flying fucks. The rest of the team dinner, he keeps me tucked against him, refusing to share with Levon and Santo.
This is his show, we’re just following his lead.
24
MILES
Caelia looks nervously around the public ice skating rink as she laces up. There are a few other people around, mostly college kids here to kill some time since the school is close by.
“Baby, you don’t have to do this,” I remind her, debating if I want to put my skates on.
“I do,” she grumbles, making sure her skates are comfortable.
I know she skates like a dream because I’ve seen her glide across the ice before. Levon blows out a breath as he puts on his skates and stands, holding out his hand to Caelia.
“Miles can stew in worry, while I get you all to myself,” he decides, attempting to go the lighthearted route. “Ready?
“Yes,” she says, standing. They walk over to the edge of the ice and push off onto it. Once she gets moving, I see that she easily acclimates to the amount of people around.
“She’s good,” Santo says, getting comfortable on the bench. “I’d say that you shouldn’t push it if more people come, but for now she’s okay.“
“My concern is this game Marilyn is organizing,” I mutter, pulling off my shoes to change into my skates. The three of us have our own, and Caelia made certain to pack hers when we went by her house.
“It’s not optimal, but Caelia can bow out,” he says.
“Caelia!” Levon shouts, laughing as she skates away from him to turn and twist on the ice. Damn, she really was practically born on this ice.
“Look at that,” I snort. “She’s a competitive little shit.”
Santo smirks, watching her as he shrugs. “Then I guess we need to figure out if she can play a game with all that entails,” he says.
“It’s not going to be as violent as one of our games,” I say quickly. “There’s no way Marilyn would want someone to get hurt. Our players are fucking huge, and could squish Caelia.”
“True, and Marilyn has her work cut out for her with a lot of the team,” Santo says. “They’re either confirmed playboys or really fucking picky. What? I hear a lot in the locker room.”
Snorting, I put on my skates and lace them up as I roll my eyes. “I’m sure that Marilyn has a plan for this. I bet it’ll be mixed teams, and she’ll enlist some of the women’s hockey players too. Again, it’ll be a lot more friendly than some of our games.”
“So no checking into the boards?” Santo asks.
“Not a chance,” I confirm. “You need body weight and strength to be able to check someone. I’ll get the full rules from her and tell Marilyn that this will hinge on if we play or not.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Santo asks, watching as I stand.
“I can skate and play a low stress game,” I admit. “The wear and tear of a hockey season is well outside of my ability now.”
“Do you miss it?” he asks, wincing at how invasive that question is. “I worry about Levon and injuries sometimes.”
“Some days, being able to coach helps me miss it less,” I say. “I’ve watched the tape on the game where I was injured more often than I’d like to admit, and it was sloppy defense that caused it. Since I am very conscious of that, I push my guys to protect each other on the ice.”
“It’s not just on the ice,” Santo blurts out. “They respect what you teach them, and I’ve watched them defend each other off the ice too. Even when they think they hate each other.”
“Well, that’s something,” I chuckle. “At least they listen.”
