"Happy to be here, Dan. Love chatting about the sport."
I take another sip of my coffee, half-listening as the host dives into questions about the hockey program.
"Now, Coach, the first official games are going to start right before the love holiday comes rolling in. Tell us about the schedule. What can fans expect?"
"Well, Dan, we have got weekly games starting next week. Five straight weeks of competition, the last game falling right before Valentine's Day. The cumulative scores from every team will determine who advances into the junior and senior playoffs." The coach's voice carries the gravelly enthusiasm of someone who genuinely loves what he does. "It is going to be an intense stretch. Five weeks does not leave much room for error. Every game counts."
I glance at Etienne, who is listening with his head tilted slightly, his coffee cup resting against his lower lip.
Five weeks. Five games. And the last one right before Valentine's Day, which is conveniently the same deadline mymother has set for me to be bonded and shipped off to whatever pack she has selected. The universe really does love its dramatic timing.
"And why do you think this sudden trend has taken off?" the host asks. "Hockey programs at Alpha-Omega academies are popping up everywhere."
The coach chuckles.
"Look, hockey is the best form of aggressive sport out there. And what better way to channel all that Alpha energy than to throw a bunch of them onto a team and let them get that adrenaline out while doing a sport they actually enjoy? These young men are passionate. Competitive. Full of more testosterone than they know what to do with. Might as well point that energy in a productive direction before it starts causing problems off the ice."
I snort into my coffee.
Channeling Alpha energy through sanctioned violence. What a concept. Though, to be fair, it does seem to work. Rafe punching people during a game is at least better than Rafe punching people in the dorm. Marginally.
"Interesting, interesting," the host says. "Now here is a question our listeners have been sending in. Would there ever be a time where we see a female or an Omega on the hockey team?"
The coach laughs, the sound hearty and a little too long.
"Well now, we would not be seeing that in these parts. Not anytime soon, anyway. But hey, if someone can pitch it to the higher-ups in Minnesota, there is a possibility. Stranger things have happened. The sport is evolving." He pauses for a beat. "Though let us be real, most Omegas gravitate toward the figure skating field, which Valenridge University provides as well. Beautiful program they are building over there."
My ears perk up at the mention of figure skating, my hand tightening around the coffee cup.
"And speaking of figure skating," the host continues, "this is the first time Valenridge is introducing Omegas into their athletic programs, particularly in skating. Now, Coach, some are speculating that Omegas are too, quote unquote, hormonal to be in such a professional sport. What are your thoughts on that?"
I cannot help but roll my eyes so hard I am surprised they do not get stuck in the back of my skull.
Hormonal. Right. Because Alphas throwing punches on the ice and getting into literal brawls over a rubber puck are the picture of emotional stability.
The coach laughs again, but this time it carries a different weight. Warmer. Almost nostalgic.
"Now you listen here, Dan. My best friend used to be a coach for over thirty years. Figure skating. Dedicated his whole life to it. And his daughter is an Omega."
I freeze.
My hand stops halfway to my mouth, the bagel suspended in mid-air.
His best friend. A figure skating coach. For over thirty years.
His daughter is an Omega.
"I have seen that girl on the ice once," the coach continues, his voice softening in a way that makes my throat tighten. "Once. That is all it took. One performance, and she brought tears to my eyes. And I ain't a cryer, Dan. Ask my wife. Ask my players. I do not cry. But watching that young woman move across that ice with the kind of grace and raw emotion that she had..."
He trails off for a moment.
"It is a true shame," he says, his voice heavier now. "A true shame that our society looks down on Omegas as if they are not the reason most Alphas have legacies. Without Omegas, there are no packs. No bonds. No next generation to carry on whatever empire these Alpha families think they are building. And yetwe treat them like they are less than. Like their emotions are a weakness instead of a strength."
My heart is hammering against my ribs.
Is he talking about me?
Is he talking about Dad?
