“Explain the joke to me,” Mikael says in a flat tone. Johannson stutters slightly and shakes his head.
“Nevermind.”
“No, you thought it was so fucking funny. Tell us, backup, what's so funny?”
Okay, for the first time since I joined this team, I get Mikael’s appeal. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives Johannson a look that could kill.
“Everyone is so sensitive,” Johannson says. Wrong fucking thing to say.
“No, you’re just being an asshole. We have an Omega at home, as well as two daughters. Not that we even need that to be decent fucking human beings. You need to grow up,” Eli says, standing and walking away from the table to leave.
Mikael stays seated, glaring at Johannson and forcing his hand. The backup goalie feels the weight of none of us wanting him around. He scoots his chair back and leaves.
“Fucking asshole,” Mikael mumbles under his breath.
“No way Applegate keeps him next year,” Alexi says. He was quiet during the exchange, but I know him well enough to know that he’s pissed. I also think he is teaching Eli and Mikael how to take over the team for when he leaves.
“Of course not, especially when we have Connery,” Mikael says, grabbing his water and taking a heavy sip. I look away from him and focus on where Bram is being given directions by Sloane, and he dances to the music like she tells him too.
When I look back at Mikael, he clicks his tongue and looks between me and Alexi. He makes a groaning sound but gets up from the table. He claps my and Alexi’s shoulder before heading to his room for the night. Him and Eli always share, since they are pack mates.
“Do you think he knows?” I whisper to Alexi, who places his arm behind my chair.
“Even if he does, I trust him.”
“I’m ready to stop lying,” I say softly, his thumb and forefinger rubbing some tension away on my neck.
“I know, soon. Two more series, that’s it. We’re going to get you your Cup.”
“Even just coming this far,” I say, which is true. Who would have ever thought an Omega goalie could make it to the NHL, let alone the Eastern Conference Stanley Cup Finals? “I wouldn’t have any regrets,” I say truthfully. If we lost this in four games, it would suck, but to have played in the playoffs is more than I ever could have imagined for myself.
It’s not that hockey isn’t still my passion, that I don’t love the sport. It’s that I’m so fucking tired. Not only of hiding who I am, masking my true self, but my body aches. Omegas weren’t meant to be built the way I am, nor to take the stress of this profession. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the medications I was on for years too. But I’m worn thin.
When I play my last NHL game, it will probably be one of the most bittersweet moments of my life. But I have more to live for than I ever realized. Two people who are more important than hockey will ever be.
“So´lnyshka?”
“Are you finally going to tell me what that means?” I ask him.
He grins and tilts his head at me. “It means sunshine,” he says, and I feel loved and seen. I’ve been called an asshole more times than I can count, but I’ve never been compared to being someone's sunshine. I’m too stunned to speak when he says the pet name again. “So´lnyshka?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m getting you that fucking Cup,” he says, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss against my lips, no care in the world who is around. Most of the team has left for the night. Bram and Sloane are too caught up in their own bubble to notice. I never thought I’d like PDA, but I almost wish there was more of an audience to see how much Alexi cares for me.
For the first time in my life, I’m okay with being a needy Omega in public, though most people in this room have no clue. I extend the kiss, and when we part, he grins at me.
“Let’s go call Piper and call it a night.”
“‘Kay,” I say, feeling breathless. He takes my hand in his as we walk to our hotel room, and I find myself eager to have more of these public displays of affection. He kisses the side of my head in the elevator, and all I feel is true and utter contentment.
* * *
It’s the third period, and it feels like my legs are going to give out. The score is tied, and the last thing I fucking need is for this to go into overtime, or god-fucking-forbid multiple over times. I can feel myself getting sluggish, and that’s the last thing the team needs right now.
In the middle of the ice, Kristiansen and Nilsen are going at it, and the refs are trying to pull them apart. Alexi was on the bench, but he skates out and motions for me to pull my helmet up. When he looks at me, I can see his worry written all over his face. His one hand is ungloved, and he holds up the smelling salts to my nose.
“Inhale,” he says. I do, and immediately it hits me, my eyes going wide and my nose scrunching up.
