“Hey, Dad.”
“Sloane, where did you go? We dropped Mormor off at the hotel,” he says.
“I just went for a walk,” I say, looking over at Bram who rolls his eyes.
“Honey, it’s dark. What do you mean you went for a walk? Where are you? I can come pick you up.”
“That’s okay, Dad. I’ll be home soon.”
“What did she say? I knew it must have been bad. Your mom lost it and told her she had to stay in a hotel until she apologizes.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him, and he sighs.
“If you’re not home in twenty minutes, I’m going to come out looking for you.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
I hang up the phone, and Bram looks at me expectantly. “Coach?” he asks.
“Yeah, he’s just overprotective. I should be getting home,” I tell him, though there’s really no other place I’d rather be than here on Bram’s lap. I don’t get up to move, and he squeezes my hips.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, you did everything I needed to feel better,” I say, leaning down and kissing him softly again.
“We have our first string of away games next week,” he says against my lips.
“I know,” I reply.
“I’d like to talk on the phone or at least text every day to make sure you’re alright,” he says.
My Omega heart does a little flip in my chest as I lean forward and kiss him again. He’s turning out to be the exact Alpha I thought he was.
“Yeah, I can definitely do that.” I kiss him again, wishing I could spend all night with his lips pressed against mine. “Night, Bram.”
“Text me the minute you get home,” he tells me.
I nod and crawl back over to the passenger seat before getting out and heading home. I can sense a white SUV following me the entire walk back, but I do my best to ignore him and cherish the fact that he cares enough to watch me get home. As soon as I walk up the driveway, I send him a text.
Home safe. Thank you for tonight.
Bram
I’m here for whatever you need. Good night, Sloane.
I smile down at my phone. I left the house this evening in shambles, but I’m returning feeling refreshed and cared for. That’s exactly how your Alpha should make you feel.
CHAPTER 10
Ihave the bottom half of the Finnegan costume on as Sloane meticulously lint brushes some of the orange hair and makes sure everything with the jersey is in place.
She has a lint roller, brush, tape, scissors, and a needle and thread.
“Sloane, sweetheart, I think it’s perfect.”
She pauses for a moment, probably pondering the pet name, before taking her small scissors to the patch on the new jersey and cutting off the tiniest thread.
“It is now,” she says, brushing down the orange fur. “You’re going to crush it. I can picture it now: Finnegan the Fox holding a bunch of kittens for adoption. It’ll blow up online, and everyone will be obsessed with you.”
