The game goes on, with the periods coming and going. The third finally begins, and I’m itching for it to be over. The scoreboard holds the time as we skate onto the ice. We’re at 1-1. Shaking my head, I will myself to give the game my full attention.
We’re on, and the puck is flying across the ice, each team giving their absolute all to this final round. Thorne catches the puck and is twisting and turning his way to the Ice Wolves' goalpost, getting ready to pass it to me. I skate into position, trying to lock this shot in, when an Ice Wolf defenseman shoves me. I catch Thorne in my gaze, and they are hot on his ass, too. I recover just in time for Thorne’s pass.
Skating up the ice, my sweat running down my face under my helmet. Focus, find an opening to make this damn shot, but nothing comes. I look for Thorne, fucking praying he can get this shot, so the heat of making this shot is off me.
I see the flash of his red 22, and I focus in on the goal and swing, hoping this shot doesn’t get intercepted. It does, of fucking course, and the Ice Wolves have the puck. Fuck. I refrain from looking at Thorne’s disappointed face. I know he’s scrunching hiseyebrows, and I know the rest of the team will give me hell for that.
Ice Wolves shoot that puck halfway down the ice. Shit. Our two defensemen try to redirect the puck, but the Ice Wolves are already shooting at the net. Grady, our goalie, is quick and blocks the shot with his chest protector, and the ref blows his whistle.
Soon, the puck is back, and I’m dodging Ice Wolf defenses trying to get it to Thorne, and the closer I get, the less of an opening I have. I may have to take this shot myself.
Thorne is exchanging body shoves with a player, and I don’t see him get shoved into the goal crease over as I shoot. Almost as if time has slowed down, I watch Thorne and the goalie fall as the puck makes it in the net. A player can’t make a shot when the goalie is shoved.
Damn it all to hell.
The ref is blowing his whistle as I skate my ass to the penalty box. I stop right outside the box, and I’m skating back over to Thorne as the Ice Wolves' number 44 started fighting with Thorne, over the push on their goalie, most likely. Regardless, I needed this fight, and I’m out of the game, anyway. I pull on 44’s shoulder, wiping him back and swinging, and just as my punch lands, we’re pulled apart.
“Get your ass to the box now.”
I watch the other players skate. I nod to Thorne to let him know I’m good.
I have a ten-minute misconduct. My eyes find the leaderboard and see we only have ten minutes left, anyway.
I can’t say I’m terribly sad about missing the rest of the game.
I need to get back to Noa. I need to see Thorne, Havoc, and her all safe with my own eyes.
I scan the crowd, and I see them. Two sets of brown eyes stare back at me—one with worry and one with excitement. Havoc and Noa sit in the stands. Noa clasps her hands together, a fabric mask over half her face, like the ones people wear when they are sick. It must be to help with the scents, and Havoc’s got his arm around her, leaning back in his chair. The tight ball in my chest finally unravels, and my breaths come out much easier as I see them. My alpha finally calms as my eyes meet theirs.
Wait, what are Havoc and Noa doing here? I thought he had a commission for a piece due tomorrow?
I scrunch my eyebrows, but Noa waves her fingers at me, and now I’m damning myself for not playing a better game.
She was here the whole time. My entire Pack is all here, and here I am, sticking my skate up my ass,because I was worried about them. I chuckle as I shake my head.
I can’t wait to go home with them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HAVOC
Getting my omega to the game was easier than I thought. She was game to watch the guys play, but was worried about how the crowd would bother her senses. I gave her pink earplugs to help with the sharp sounds and a mask to help dampen the scents so she could actually enjoy the game. We should have paid for a box, but I wanted the guys to have the chance to see her.
I couldn’t wear my earplugs, not today. Despite going about our day as what Noa called “normal,” there was a threat we didn’t know about coming after her. Watching her cheer for my mates was worth the loud noises and the crowd pushing and shoving in the arena.
Thorne is on fire tonight, but he always plays likethis with Silas. Playing with him lights Thorne up. Silas is good too, normally, but not tonight.
He played for about 10 minutes tonight and then got a 10-minute misconduct and is basically out for the rest of the game. Silas was never as committed to hockey as he was committed to Thorne’s happiness, but he’s never been this bad.
Shooting the goal when the goalie pushed is something he should have known to avoid; something is off about him. I should check in on him, but I have a feeling I know what’s going on, and it is the beautiful woman sitting next to me.
After the game, Noa and I headed home since the guys would take a while getting out of the arena. I take Noa to our home, knowing damn well I’m not taking her toherhome.
Otis greets us at the door, something we know we should train him not to do, but let him do anyway. Noa is all smiles and giggles as she kneels down to love on him. His tail wags so hard his butt is wagging too. Making quick work of the kitchen, I grab us some water and a small bowl of sour candies. After learning they were Noa’s favorite, I made sure to have some on hand.
We settle on the couch, Noa raving about the excitement of the game, when Thorne and Silas walk through the door.
“Noa, we have to talk.” Silas’s voice is low, but I canhear the hope in his voice as he walks into the pack house. He drops his hockey gear at the door, and I try not to stare at it as Silas jumps over the back of the couch and lands in front of Noa, who sits next to me on the couch opposite him.
