Archie's face erupts in crimson. The blush starts at his jaw and climbs through the freckles and past his cheekbones and over his ears and into the roots of his ginger hair with the comprehensive coverage of a man whose circulatory system has just betrayed a secret his mouth refused to confirm.
"I'm leaving."
He pivots toward the exit with the rigid urgency of a man fleeing a crime scene that he is the primary suspect of, but he does not clear two strides before half the hockey team floods onto the ice and surrounds him.
"FUCK NO, YOU'RE NOT!"
The Alphas descend on him with the desperate enthusiasm of fans who have discovered a hidden talent and refuse to let it escape the building. Shoulders are clapped. Backs are slapped. Pleas for team membership are issued with the volume and persistence of men who have just realized the nerd they dismissed for a week is the missing piece their roster needs.
"Bro, you HAVE to play for us!"
"Coach was right, you're insane out there!"
"We'll carry your textbooks for a semester if you sign up!"
Archie's face cycles through horror, discomfort, and the specific anguish of an introvert being subjected to group physical contact without prior written consent.
"Fuck to the no. I'm an academic. I watch the sport. I don't play the sport. There's a critical distinction that you're all choosing to ignore."
Liar.
The man who just anchored a seven-to-zero demolition of the rookie squad is claiming he does not play hockey with the same conviction he used to claim he needs tutoring in Calculus.
The mask is back on. The performance has resumed. And the Alphas surrounding him have no idea they are negotiating with a costume rather than a person.
I leave Archie to his social nightmare and glide alongside Mae as she pulls Étienne's helmet off and shakes her hair free. The dark strands fall around her face in damp waves, and the expression she wears while surveying the rink is one I recognize from childhood: the specific, aching blend of exhilaration and grief that accompanies the return to a place you loved and left and feared you would never find again.
"Damn," she murmurs. "It's been a while since I've skated like that. I forgot what it felt like. The speed. The cold. The way everything else just disappears when you're moving."
I know exactly what you mean, Mae.
Because I feel it every time I touch ice. The erasure of everything that is not this moment. The freedom of a body doing the one thing it was built for. The silence that fills the space where self-doubt normally lives.
And today, for the first time, I felt it with other people. Not alone on a community center rink at five in the morning. Not solo in a parking lot with a stick and a wall. With a team. Withyou and Archie and the insane, accidental chemistry of three misfits who have no business being this good together.
I pat Mae's shoulders with both hands, the contact carrying the pride of a woman who just watched her best friend reclaim an identity the world tried to strip from her.
"This bitch was raised by Coach Rose, guys!" I announce to the rink at large because Mae will not announce it herself and someone needs to ensure this building understands what it just witnessed. "You should be bowing down to her and getting every damn secret out of her brain because she could lead you lot to a victory you don't deserve."
I turn to Mae, my grin carrying warmth that the arena's cold cannot touch.
"How does it feel to STILL be a badass bitch?"
She laughs, the sound looser and freer than anything I have heard from her since we reunited. A knot unwinding. A door opening. The tentative reclamation of a joy she locked away because keeping it meant acknowledging what losing it had cost.
"Brilliant. But fuck, Sage, you've gotten incredible at this. When did you get so sharp? Your passes were flawless out there."
I grin, pride swelling in my chest.
"I actually train with Jace. Pretty regularly. He's planning to try for the Minesto leagues in May. Has to find a pack first, though, so that's going to be a whole bunch of fun bullshit."
Cal frowns from his position nearby. "Why does he have to find a pack?"
Étienne arches an eyebrow beside him.
I smirk, enjoying the withholding.
"We'll reserve that explanation for Jace to tell y'all himself. Not my story to share." I wave a dismissive hand before squaring my shoulders. "But for now, I'm hoping to be damn lucky enough to play my shot at being the first female Omegato compete in the hockey league. Just give me a few weeks of adjusting to the pace and I'll be right there."
