“Yeah.”
“Making him suffer?”
“Yeah,” I say regretfully.
“Fair enough. He was always my least favorite.” I smack her lightly on the arm.
“You can’t have favorites in a pack.”
“You can’t have favorites in your own pack. Doesn’t mean I can’t have favorites in your pack. For me, it’s Anders, Eli, then Mikael.”
“Yeah, well, one day when you have a pack, I’m going to rank them, and you aren’t going to like it.”
“Don’t hold your breath because you’re going to be waiting a long time.”
“Whatever.” I shoo her with my hand as I watch them continue to warm up.
“How much longer are you going to make him agonize over all his life’s decisions?”
“I’m hoping we can talk tonight.”
“Good. You want a beer?” She nudges my shoulder, and I can tell she’s happy that I’m finally going to have my pack together again, maybe almost as happy as me.
“Seltzer please.”
“Of course, the precious Omega doesn’t want a beer,” she jokes and squeezes my arm gently as she squeezes past our row to go get the drinks. I can now openly stare at each of them and damn, do they look good. They look even bigger on the ice with their padding. All of their asses look even bigger, and I kinda like it. Something is wrong with me.
The buzzer sounds, and the announcements are made for the starting lineups. We do the national anthem, which I always thought was weird as fuck for sports games. The woman who sings is on point though, hitting each note.
Just like that, the game starts, and it’s like bats out of hell skating rapidly on the ice. I’m not sure if the game itself is fascinating, or if I just like watching them do something that they are so passionate about. My relationship with hockey always seems to be a rollercoaster. There are times when I hate and blame it for most of my problems. But right now I get it. Watching them play at this level. Hockey and I aren’t in a competition, but it is something that they love, and it’s clear in the way that they play.
It still shocks me to see Eli and Mikael so graceful on the ice. Not only that, but how truly fast they can skate. I’m not even paying attention to plays, I just can’t help tracking my guys on the ice.
Piper comes back with my drink, and I thank her and sip slowly.
When I glance over, Piper is wearing a jersey she wasn’t wearing before.
“Where did you get that?”
“Just bought it, you like?” I roll my eyes as I see the number eight on the back.
“Sure, Pipes.”
“Oh, you’re just jealous because you don’t have a jersey.”
“I can’t just wear one. That would be fucked up.” She taps her chin and nods.
“We’ll have to suture you something together.”
“It’s called sewing.”
“Same fucking thing.” She stands up suddenly and cheers. “Your man just scored.”
“Shit.” I’m on my feet and clapping and cheering with the rest of the fans in an instant. His grin is clear even from where I’m sitting, and he glances at me before his team swarms him. Including Mikael. My heart swells at their affection for each other when I sit down. It just makes it even more clear that I’m done making him suffer—done with both of our suffering.
Suddenly the seat next to me has a resident. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. He looks me up and down like he knows me as he takes his seat.
“So you’re Charlotte.”
