“Fuck,” Pierce says, looking seriously concerned about the prospect.
“That settles it.” Beckett puts his hands on his hips. “I’m buying you a new house.”
“You don’t…”
“No, no, no.” He starts ticking off on his fingers. “You need your own bedroom, and an art studio. And a nest. Liam still needs his office. We have a girl living here now and can’t be gross boys and have workout gear in the living room, so we need a gym.”
I snort.
“Fine, then I’m buying her a car.” Pierce faces off with Beckett.
“You have to teach her to drive first,” Liam notes.
Pierce holds his hand and wiggles his fingers for me, leading us all back to the kitchen.
“Maybe a cute little BMW convertible.”
“No,” Beckett and Liam say at the same time.
“Why not?” My voice is a little too squeaky.
“They’re not safe,” Liam says.
“I want my omega wrapped in a couple tons of steel. Have you seen how crazy people drive?” Beckett zips up one of his duffels.
“Hm. You might have a point.” Pierce agrees. “The back seats are tiny in those things. Hard to fuck you in it.”
I squeal and giggle as Pierce picks me up and sits me on the counter. Liam hands me my glass of juice. We spend the rest of the day packing Beckett’s bags. Well, they pack. I sit on the counter, swinging my feet as they list off one ridiculous gift after another, building a dream life right in front of me. If only one percent of that ever comes true, I could die a happy little omega.
Chapter fifty-seven
ASH
Thewholeboxcringesas one as two players crash hard into the Plexiglas.
“Am I blind? Do I need glasses? Why can’t I see Beckett’s 33?”
“He and Deacon just rotated off to catch their breath,” Liam says as he rubs my back. Everywhere he touches is lava-hot.
“This is so much harder to follow in person without the TV guy telling you what’s happening. Is that him? Next to the guy in the beard.”
“They all have beards, Ash,” Pierce laughs, crowding closer to the glass beside me. “It’s the playoffs. No one shaves during the playoffs.”
“Do they all have stinky bags full of stinky socks too?” I nod like I understand these sacred hockey traditions. I don’t. But I’m learning.
“Worse,” Pierce mutters.
The crowd erupts as something happens that I completely miss. Pierce and Liam groan in unison. Alexei shouts something in Russian that doesn’t need translation.
“What? What just happened?” I crane my neck, trying to follow the action.
“Penalty,” Liam explains. “That gives the Panthers a power play.”
I nod again, pretending I remember what a power play is. I’ve watched a lot of hockey in the past few weeks, but I’m still learning the vocabulary, still catching up. Everyone else seems born knowing these things.
“They’re down by one with less than ten minutes left,” Pierce mutters, drumming his fingers against the glass. “Fuck.”
“We got this. 10 minutes left. Plenty of time after the power play to get that point back.”
