He gapes at his woman while Ethan and I just keep our mouths shut.
“You knew?” he asks her.
“Oh, right. I forgot about the muffins in the oven. So nice meeting you boys,” she says with a wave, leaving Coach Applegate there gaping at her.
The apple doesn’t fall far at all because that’s definitely some shit Sloane would pull.
“So I need a goalie, a new defensive line, and a goddamn mascot for our next game?” Coach says, resolved but still pissed off.
“It appears so, sir,” I say.
The Alpha coach approaches me, pointing a finger against my chest. “If she wasn’t in that state right now, we’d be having a way deeper conversation. But as pissed as I am right now, I can’tlet her suffer. Go take care of my daughter. I swear to fucking God, if you or that idiot upstairs bonds her when she can’t consent fully, then you’ll be looking for a gravesite instead of a new team,” he says.
He glares at both of us before stomping back to their main property. His pack Beta, who I can’t remember his name, strolls up, and I wonder if we’re going to get another lashing.
Instead, he whistles. “That was extremely dramatic. I apologize on Kristoff’s behalf. Let me give one of you boys my number in case you need anything during Sloane’s heat.”
Both Ethan and I blink at the man, and he holds out his hand, waiting for a phone.
I’m about to dig out mine, and the man shakes his head.
“I’d rather the sanest one have my number on their phone,” he says to Ethan, who pulls out his phone and hands it to the man, who quickly enters his details.
I glance over, and then his name clicks. Henderson Applegate.
“Sloane can be impulsive. But not with something like this. Kristoff will come around, and I’m sure Sloane will come to all your defenses once she’s coherent. Take care of our girl,” he says, smacking my shoulder before following Coach back into their house.
“What the fuck just happened?” Ethan whispers behind me.
That is a great question because it feels like I’m in the twilight zone.
Ethan leads me up the side stairs, and Sloane’s peachy scent is permeating through the hallways. It nearly knocks me off my ass.
She’s absolutely in heat.
When he opens the door, I’m greeted with Connery sitting on the ground with his head in his hands.
“Thank fuck you’re here,” he says, and I glare at him and then glance at the shut bathroom door.
I don’t speak to Max because the last thing I need to do is get into it with him right now.
I tap my knuckles against the door.
“Sloane, it’s Bram, open up.”
She opens the door and grabs my wrist, tugging me into the bathroom with her before slamming the door.
Her small arms immediately wrap around my waist.
“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” she chants over and over.
“I read the letter. I’m sorry I ran out earlier. I didn’t know what was happening and assumed the worst.”
Her hands are clutching my shirt like a lifeline, and it seems like she’s trying to hold on and not go into a complete heat-induced state.
“Don’t leave me,” she says in a cry, and my hands tighten around her.
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re still mine.”
