The questions tumble out before I can stop them, genuine curiosity overriding my usual caution. Etienne looks surprised by my enthusiasm, but not displeased. If anything, he looks hopeful. Like no one has ever shown interest in this part of him before.
"I write mostly?—"
"We need to go train."
Rafe's voice cuts through the conversation like a blade, sharp and sudden and thoroughly unwelcome. He has pushed off from his position, standing straight now despite the lingering discomfort, his expression closed off in a way that feels deliberate.
Cal and Etienne both turn to look at him, confusion written across their faces.
"What?" Cal asks.
"Train," Rafe repeats, already moving toward the door with jerky, agitated movements. "We are going to gather the rest of the team and run some drills."
Cal frowns, checking his phone.
"Dude, it is literally after school hours. Why would we train now? We just had practice earlier today."
"I do not care." Rafe's jaw is tight, his movements radiating barely contained energy. "I am the captain, remember? I say we train, we train. Let us go."
He is running away. The big bad Alpha captain is literally fleeing from a conversation about books and dreams and Valentine's Day dates.
Interesting. Very interesting. What exactly is he afraid of?
Cal and Etienne exchange a loaded glance, clearly having one of those silent packmate conversations. After a moment, they both sigh and rise from their positions.
"Fine," Cal mutters, stretching his arms above his head. "But you are explaining to the guys why they have to do extra drillson a rest day. I am not taking the blame for your sudden fitness obsession."
Rafe does not respond. He is already at the door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. But before he leaves, he turns back to look at me.
Those storm-gray eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something beneath the hostility. Something complicated. Something that looks almost like fear. Or maybe longing. Or maybe both tangled together in a knot he does not know how to untie.
"Do not touch my shit," he says, his voice rough. "Nerdy MaeMae."
He used the nickname. But it sounded different this time. Less cruel. Almost affectionate?
No. That is ridiculous. I am reading too much into things because I want there to be more than there is.
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms.
"I would never dream of touching your stuff. Or your dirty laundry, which reminds me..." I hold up a finger. "Added rule. Pick up after yourselves. If your shit reeks for longer than twenty-four hours, you either wash it or it is going in the trash."
I wrinkle my nose dramatically for emphasis.
"My nostrils are already picking up way too many scents as an Omega. I do not need dirty hockey gear added to the list of things assaulting my senses. The amount of sweat and testosterone embedded in those pads is genuinely horrifying. I can smell it from here and you have not even worn them since this morning."
Cal snorts. Etienne looks mildly embarrassed, probably making a mental note to wash his gear more frequently.
Rafe just huffs, but he does not argue. None of them do.
"Whatever," Rafe mutters. "Just stay out of trouble while we are gone."
And then they are leaving. Cal first, with a casual wave and a cheerful "Later, MaeMae." Etienne second, pausing at the door to give me a small smile and a quiet "We will talk more about the books later. I want to hear your recommendations." And Rafe last, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattles the frame and probably annoys the neighbors all over again.
Silence.
Complete, blissful, overwhelming silence.
I stand in the middle of the living room for a long moment, not moving. Just breathing. Letting the quiet settle around me like a blanket I desperately needed.
