Sloane and Ethan are our priorities, even if it seems like they’re pushing us away as of late.
But it’s only been a month. It’s been an adjustment living together and working past what happened on that bridge. None of us have been intimate since the accident, and it feels like Sloane is retreating in on herself. And Ethan, it almost seems like he’s covering for her?
“She didn’t even want to go out for her birthday,” I say, and Max nods.
We did something small at the house, but it didn’t feel the same. Sloane is so loved, and so many people wanted to be there for her, but she said she would just rather stay in.
“Maybe we should look for another therapist. There’s no fucking way we’re going back to that building.”
“Agreed,” I reply.
“Maybe the distance from her parents is making her depressed, or she misses her job with the Foxes. Should we talk to Coach?”
I grimace, hating the idea.
“You’re right, it’s not our place,” Max says.
“If he asks, we can help, but I don’t think that’s going to earn us any points with the old man or with Sloane.”
“We’ll get through this. Together,” Max says.
I glance over at him, his eyes fully glued to the road. Was he always this handsome? Or was I blinded by my grudge and forgot just how good looking he was?
I’m suited up, but I doubt I’ll get any playing time.
Sloane came to the game, and I couldn’t be happier that she finally got out of the house. I know it wasn’t easy for her, but Piper and Charlotte are in the box. It doesn’t hurt that Anders is there either. Piper and Anders will look after her like she was their own.
Despite being ready to work and happy to have her here, I still feel somewhat uneasy.
With home games, all three of us have to work, and none of us can make sure she’s okay. Maybe I have my own baggage after all.
“Nilsen, you’re in,” Coach barks, and I nod my head, waiting for the shift change as I jump over the barrier and head on the ice.
“You good?” Max asks, and I nod my head. We both look up at the box at the same time.
“She’s fine. But are you fine?” he asks.
“Yeah, I feel good,” I tell him, and I mean it.
The cold air and the feel of skates back on my feet means everything to me. But I meant what I told Sloane. I love her more.
If we were bonded, I’d be able to check in with her and know that she’s feeling alright.
I shake my head and focus on the game. I need a win and to possibly get my groove back. Lately, life has been a little out of my hands, and I’m ready to take charge and get back to normal. Well, more than back to normal. I want to bond with my Omega and Beta, make a pack contract, and see my girl smile more.
There I go, getting distracted again.
I slap my stick against the ice and buckle the fuck down. The Jets are going down. I’ve got something to prove.
It’s the third period. The score is two–two, and I’m hungry for a win.
As happy as I am to be back on the ice, my body clearly isn’t completely back to the high-paced game, but I’m pushing through.
Luckily, the game hasn’t been overly physical… until now.
We’re foaming at the mouth for the win, and with only three minutes left, it’s make or break.
No one wants overtime. I’m not even sure I have the fucking stamina for overtime. I just want to go the fuck to sleep. Sitting on my ass and waiting for my bruises to heal has set me back heavily, and I can feel it in how sluggish I’m moving.
