“Me either.”
It feels like tonight was a step in the right direction, but when it comes to Charlotte, with this pack, nothing is ever truly easy.
Chapter thirty-seven
We’recompletelyandabsolutelysucking ass on the ice. This is our third game away, and it’s embarrassing. I know why we’re losing, and that’s what pisses me off even more. Anders and Eli have their heads so spun up with Charlotte they can’t even stay focused.
I told them they were stupid for letting her back in, for giving her that power, seeing how easily she could crush all of us like that. Fucking idiots, it’s like slamming your finger in a car door and doing it again to see what happens.
Anders has let stupid goals slip in, and Eli is a mess on the ice, tripping over teammates and not making the shots that he’s known for. Coach is pissed, I’m pissed, the entire team is pissed. It’s not like we expect to go to the cup or anything; we’re an expansion team, and the growing pains are real. But playing like shit because you’re thinking about an Omega who dropped you the second life got hard is bullshit.
I heard what Anders said about Kathy, and I feel awful that we weren’t there and what Charlotte went through. But she didn’t trust us. We weren’t worth keeping in her life when things got the toughest. I told her not to break me, and she fucking did. I love Anders and Eli, but it’s clear the only person I can truly depend on is myself. My family wasn’t shit, and this pack is a farce I’m not falling into again. I won’t ditch Anders and Eli, but I sure as fuck am not going to squander this chance I was given. That means not messing up this pack contract and not letting Charlotte back into our lives.
I’m hoping they don’t get too deep and this all implodes before it even starts. We can’t have a repeat of four months ago. Of us trying to navigate our new careers while being heartbroken and fucking pathetic for months on end. I’d never really given a shit about my designation, but as of late, I wish whole-fucking-heartedly that I was a Beta and didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.
While I’ve always had an issue with my temper, it feels like it’s bubbling over the surface during this game. I’m pissed at everyone, and the only way I can think to make it better is to show up on the ice and do what I do best. This is the last game away until we’re back in Connecticut, and it’s close. The Hurricanes are only up by one point, and we have ten minutes left in the game. There’s a line change, and I’m back on the ice, ready to unleash everything to help myself feel better.
Anders glares at me from his helmet, and as badly as I want to give him the finger right now, I ignore the bastard. We’ve gotten into it more times than I’d like to admit, Eli in the middle trying to defuse the situation. But at the end of the day, Anders is pack, and he’s my goalie. If anyone fucks with him, they fuck with all of us.
So the minute Alexeyev from the Hurricanes knocks him over, his back hitting the post hard enough to unlatch it from the ice, it’s fucking on.
I’m on him in a flash, pushing him against the glass. We’ve each got a fistful of each other’s jersey as we hit each other. There’s a clash of players on the sides of us and refs waiting patiently for when to jump in. Before I know it, my helmet is off, and I feel the full force of Alexeyev’s gloved fist hitting my face. I welcome the pain and return it tenfold by flicking off my glove and hitting his skin. I’m glad I took my partial out, even though I look like an idiot as Alexeyev hits me right in the teeth. I bite the inside of my cheek.
It spurs me on, and I hit him in his already busted nose twice with my fist. My knuckles are burning from the sensation. It’s then we’re tugged apart, someone grabbing the back of my jersey as I glide backwards on my skates.
“You fucking bitch weasel!” I can’t help but laugh at the Russian’s insult, knowing blood is dripping down my chin.
“What are you going to do? I think I did your nose a favor.”
“Come say to my face, pussy chicken!” I wipe the blood off my chin and grin at Alexeyev. I’m in a much happier place after fucking up his nose and hearing his terrible comebacks. I’m immediately taken to the sin bin for my actions, but so is he. Luckily, no one else on the team got involved, so each team just plays down a player while we wait out the five minutes. It appears that my genius plan of picking a fight with the Hurricanes team doofus helps, as Eli ends the penalty and scores a goal. It’s not a pretty one, but it puts us on an even playing field, nonetheless.
I put on my big boy pants as I leave the box and head to the bench, preparing myself for the verbal lashing I might get from the coach. I’m surprised when I get a clasp on the shoulder and a water bottle tossed my way.
“That’s how you protect your goalie, son,” he says as he goes down the line and gives tidbits of advice and tells others how shitty they are playing. I’ll take what I can get, and I can at least be grateful that he isn’t standing behind me anymore. Why do all hockey coaches chew gum like deranged, anxious animals?
With five minutes left on the clock, I’m waiting to be rotated back into play, but it doesn’t come, and I watch as Alexeyev scores against Anders. I want to crack my stick in half, but hold it all in. When Alexeyev skates by, he gives me a shit-eating grin, and I note to fuck up his nose the next time we meet on the ice.
The clock keeps winding further down, and my actions are all for naught as we lose our third away game in a row. Being superstitious as fuck, I know the causes of the loss and need to find a way to make it end.
We’re back at the house in Connecticut and to say I’ve been pissy is an understatement. After all the travel and the fact that we have a home game tomorrow, I’m in a goddamn mood. It gets even worse when Eli drops the bombshell on me. I’m tired and sore, and all I want to do is lay in bed or maybe spend some time in the hot tub.
“Charlotte’s coming over for dinner tonight,” Eli announces. Anders clearly already knew as he nods his head in agreement. I just can’t with them, so I don’t argue. I’m too exhausted. I throw my hands in the air and just walk away.
Great, outstanding. Now our whole house is going to smell like her, and I won’t be able to escape it. Anders and Eli will be cooing over her downstairs and letting her get away with everything. It’s not that I’m fucking heartless, but there’s no accountability. If she hadn’t run away, I would have taken my stock of the blame for Vegas and being unreachable, but right now I don’t see anything from her end. She hasn’t reached out to me, and I haven’t reached out to her either. Maybe she’s realized Eli and Anders are the ones she truly wants, and I’m the scent match she doesn’t want to be stuck with.
I’ve only seen her through the plexi glass of the last game, and that’s as close as I want to get. I need… I don’t know what I need. But I know it’s not her sweet scent, or all of the things that made me want her in the first place. I don’t want to be reminded of her. I just don’t know what I want…
I stay in my room all night until I hear her feminine laughter downstairs, and I can’t take it anymore and decide to take a shower to drown out the noise. The temperature is nearly scalding as the water beats against my back. My dark hair hangs over my eyes as I breathe in and out. They’re just letting her back into their lives like it was nothing. Like these last four months haven’t been hell. It pisses me off; she pisses me off.
Her sweet scent, her pretty face, her long blonde hair, her snark. It all…fuck. I scrub my face roughly, the water losing some of the heat, and I decide to get out. I’m hungry, but no fucking way am I going downstairs. I scrub a towel over my hair and wrap it around my waist, then go back into my bedroom.
What I don’t expect to see is a teary-eyed Charlotte standing in my room looking at the few things I have scattered on my nightstand. I don’t see the purple notebook, so I let out a sigh of relief. As much as I don’t want her back, I wouldn’t want her reading the entries. It was definitely not meant for her eyes and more of an outlet for my feelings. I sigh in relief as she picks up the news article I had framed that features some of my best hits this season.
Her eyes move from the page she’s on, and she looks at me cautiously.
“You got what you always wanted.”
I scowl at her, not liking this game. Not her throwing my own words back into my face before we came together. Before she abandoned us.
