I trace the band of my engagement ring. In the three years I’ve been with Paxton, I’ve never noticed another person like this. Like… like there’s something innate that draws me toward them. It’s so similar to the way I felt when I first met Paxton, it’s unnerving. Despite my wishing the last few years, I’m not an Omega. I’m not an Alpha, either. Betas aren’t beholden to the primal needs the other designations have. And yet…
I swallow as my chest flutters again.
Thankfully, Carys doesn’t notice my slip. Her shoulders are relaxed by the time she’s pushing open an unmarked door at least halfway around the arena from where we started. I force a subject change so I have something to focus on other than the mess happening inside my body.
“Is Slapshots a big club out here?” I ask.
She scrunches her nose.
“Not exactly.”
She turns to the right. This hallway is decorated with jerseys and helmets and awards from previous seasons. A middle-aged woman in a pantsuit leans against a threshold about twenty feet away, her brows furrowed as she focuses on her phone.
“It’s the team’s typical hangout spot after games,” Carys explains. “Some people are very…” She purses her lips and drops her lanyard over her neck. “Some people are obsessive about trying to arrange accidentally-on-purpose run-ins.”
I can’t help but snort. “Got it. Those people are… something.”
And then I manage to blush just a bit. Carys’s lips curve into a half-smile, curiosity in her gaze.
“I met Paxton in a bar on my twenty-first birthday,” I explain before she can ask. “Some of my sorority sisters convinced me to go out. They picked the bar they knew the Reign went to after home games hoping to hook up with one of the players.”
Carys grins. “Good for you!”
My own lips twist as I remember the falling out within the sorority those last few months of my senior year. “They… never really did forgive me for being the only one to manage to catch any of the players’ attentions.”
Carys frowns, her eyebrows lowering over her eyes. I don’t bother to hide how those remembered days had me feeling, the helplessness and rage and betrayal. It feels natural to show Carys these things, to give her some of the memories that only Paxton and Marley have with me. Without a word, she squeezes my elbow.
The woman glances up from her phone as we approach. Her smile is warm, crows feet crinkling the corners of her eyes. It takes me a minute to realize who she is.
“Carys!” Marilyn says, the same warmth reflected in her voice. She pushes off the wall, and Carys goes to her, dropping her hold on my arm. “I didn’t realize you were here tonight. You could’ve used the family room.”
“Billie and I used Dad’s seats,” she explains with a wide smile as Marilyn wraps her arms around Carys’s shoulders. “Has press started yet?”
Marilyn nods then turns her smile on me. “The brothers were requested pretty heavily by the press pool. They’ve been in there for about ten minutes. Should be finished before the hour is up. Are you wanting to hang out in Ares’s office?”
Carys tucks her hair behind her ear, her gaze catching on me. I shrug one shoulder. If she thinks her dad’s office is better than the general bathroom, I don’t mind.
“If it’s not too big of an issue,” she says. “Billie and I need to get into our costumes.”
Marilyn tucks her phone into the back pocket of her suit pants and then ushers us down the hall, her strides eating up the distance. “Absolutely, sweetheart. If you’ll lock the door tothe locker room from the inside, I’ll make sure and let your dad know once he’s out of his meeting with the rest of the coaching staff. Take as long as you girls need, all right?”
She pushes open one of the doors that line the hallway. Carys gives her another blinding smile, more of her stress falling away. Just as she grabs my wrist, a player walks through another door clearly labeled as the locker room. It’s not one of the men I’ve been introduced to, his brown hair still damp where it lays against his forehead and the back of his neck.
“You wanted to see me?” he asks, his focus on Marilyn, his body a wall of coiled aggression.
Marilyn raises an eyebrow and nods, her entire posture changing in a heartbeat. Between one breath and the next, the soft woman with an almost motherly disposition disappears and in her place is an Alpha ready to put someone in their place. Carys drops her gaze, squeezing my wrist in a silent encouragement to move just a bit faster. Without a word, I move past her. I can’t help but brush just a hairsbreadth too close, though, my shoulder brushing hers.
As soon as I’m inside the office, Carys says, “Thank you so much, Marilyn,” and then closes the door behind me, effectively blocking whatever conversation might be happening between the PR manager and the player.
A motion-sensitive light turns on, flooding the space in a warm yellow light. It’s a simple space, a large desk that takes up most of the room with two round-top leather chairs facing it. On the far wall is another door, most of it a frosted glass. Carys crosses the space and locks it before dropping into one of the chairs, letting her head fall back, her hair spilling over the edge of the seat. Her eyes flutter closed.
“Did something happen with that player?” I ask, not moving farther into the office. “I haven’t noticed anything in the news cycles.”
Carys shakes her head, shaking out her hands as she sighs.
“The league’s been pretty unhappy with the Scorpions the last couple seasons.”
I frown. “For having a losing record? Teams have those every year. It’s a bit inevitable that one or two or even four or five teams will have rough showings every year. That’s just statistics.”
