Raphaël's lips twitched with amusement. "You read romance novels?"
"I have sisters. They leave books lying around. I have absorbed information through cultural osmosis." Cal waved a dismissive hand. "Do not change the subject. Scent match intensity. Go."
"It is," Raphaël confirmed. "Probably more intense than fiction portrays, because fiction has to remain believable and this feels like it should be impossible."
Cal whistled low. "Heavy. And you are handling it so calmly. Rafe would be losing his mind if this happened to him. Probably punching walls and demanding the universe explain itself."
"That is the difference between amateur posturing and professional composure." Raphaël shrugged, unbothered by the comparison to his brother. "In the real world, in actual professional leagues, you cannot act like a brat and expect to be taken seriously. Rafe's behavior might fly in a university setting where people tolerate it because of his talent, but try that shit in a league that actually matters? You will be dragged. Mocked. You will never get a signing contract because teams do not want to deal with egos that cannot be managed."
He let the words settle before adding, "You will see at the charity ball. There is one coming up before the first game of the season. Might be Valentine's themed, from what I hear. The kind of event where how you carry yourself matters as much as how you play."
"A charity ball?" Cal perked up. "That sounds fancy. Black tie? Dancing? Pretending we have social skills?"
"All of the above. And we should bring Mae Rose."
Cal tilted his head. "You really like calling her that, huh?"
Raphaël's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"She is as delicate as a rose," he said, his French accent thickening with the observation. "Beautiful, fragrant, the kind of thing you want to handle carefully. But underneath, there is thorns. There is a firecracker waiting to explode, and I find myself curious to see what happens when she finally lets herself burn."
Cal and I exchanged a glance.
The kind of glance that communicates agreement without words, an acknowledgment that we had both been thinking similar things without articulating them.
"I feel bad," Cal admitted suddenly, his voice dropping into a register I rarely heard from him. Serious. Vulnerable. "For bullying her. Back in middle school. It was childish and stupid, and I only did it because I had this compulsive need to follow whatever was cool, to align myself with the popular kids even when they were being cruel. Meeting Mae again, seeing how she has grown, how strong she has become despite everything... it makes me feel really shitty about the person I used to be."
He ran a hand through his blond hair, frustration evident in the gesture.
"I want to make up for it. I do not know how, but I want to prove that I am not that kid anymore. That I can be the kind of Alpha she deserves to have around her."
The confession landed heavily.
I had not known the extent of Cal's involvement in Mae's childhood torment, only the broad strokes that emerged through carefully avoided topics and uncomfortable silences. Hearing him own it, acknowledge the wrongness without excuses or deflection, shifted my perception of him.
Growth is real. People can change.
"I want to take her on a date," I announced.
The words came out before I fully processed them, jumping from my brain to my mouth without the usual filtering process. Cal's head snapped toward me, surprise evident in his amber eyes. Raphaël's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of interest that told me I had his attention.
"On Friday," I continued, committed now to the declaration I had not planned to make. "I want to take her somewhere nice. Plan an afternoon. Show her that she is worth the effort of planning, not just an afterthought or a convenience."
I felt heat rising to my cheeks, the vulnerability of the admission making my skin prickle.
"I want to make a move," I said quietly. "Because this is an opportunity that might disappear in five weeks if we do not pursue it. And I do not want to reach Valentine's Day and realize I never tried. Never put myself out there for someone who is genuinely deserving of effort."
Cal was watching me with an expression I could not fully read. Surprised, definitely. But underneath the surprise, there was understanding. Maybe even respect.
"She is unique," I continued, the words flowing easier now that I had started. "She is cool and smart and not materialistic, which is incredibly hard to find in Omegas these days. Most of the Omegas I have encountered want status, money, the prestige of being attached to a hockey player. Mae does not care about any of that. She borrowed a safety pin to fix her bag instead of asking for a new one. She has a phone that is practically held together with prayers. She accepted our apartment without demanding better accommodations."
I paused, searching for the right words to explain the next part.
"I have never been particularly interested in Omegas. Never felt a spark, never understood what all the fuss was about when other Alphas talked about finding their match. But Mae ignites this... thrill within me. And I want it to grow. To expand. I want it to burn."
I looked between Cal and Raphaël, my chest tight with the exposure of admitting desires I had barely acknowledged to myself.
"I guess I want your support. Because it would be nice to not do this alone, even if we are not really a pack. Even if this whole arrangement is temporary and might dissolve in five weeks. It would be nice to have people in my corner while I try to figure out what it means to want someone."
