“You have all of the power but none of the speed,” he bitches at me. And this goes on for another twenty minutes.
That rage is back, and it steals all the heat from me.
“Again,” Julius demands. “Push harder.”
I lose it and hurl my stick into the boards. It shatters. The game comes rushing back. I had wanted to kill Bugrov. Really kill him, rip him apart. And for what? Taunting Phillips and making disgusting comments about omegas.
Julius skates around me.
“Do you need to talk about your feelings?” He smirks at me.
“Fuck off.”
He glides to an easy stop. “In all the time we’ve played together, you have never once cursed me out.”
“I’m making up for lost time. Fuck off again.” I skate to the net and fumble with my water bottle. My fingers are numb, and I can’t get the top off. Teeth work fine, though.
“How are Liam and Pierce?” he asks. I give him the finger as I chug water. “What did Pierce do now?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Be on the ice, 10 a.m. every day. The team’s practicing at the arena. You’re going to be here with me.”
“Are you punishing me?”
“I sure am. 10 a.m., Beckett.” He skates away. I shout “fuck off” again to his back, and he holds up three fingers like he’s keeping count.
I run both hands through my hair and grind my palms into my eye socks, like that will erase all the images from the game. I skate slow circles around the rink, letting my muscles cool down. Everything is going to ache in the morning. I make big circles with my right shoulder. Whatever I did to it during the game left it stiff and sore.
Pierce will stretch it out for me.
I immediately shake my head. So much of my game play, so much of my career is centered around Liam and Pierce. Liam talks to my agent more than I do. He’s the one who got all the sponsorship contracts sorted. He pays all the bills, takes care of the house, everything so that I can just skate. Pierce makes sure my body can take it all. He’s the one who manages my workouts, makes sure I have rest days and the right PT. When we moved to Nashville, he got sports nutrition certification, massage therapy training, he even opened the gym for me so I could work out and not sign autographs from the treadmill.
Fuck Pierce. I don’t need him. I don’t need Liam. I don’t need our stupid pack. I start another big circle around the rink, stopping to pick up all the shards of my broken stick.
Chapter seven
ASH
Edgivesmeahealthy dose of side-eye as I rush behind the counter. The plastic bags are slippery and won’t behave as I shove them under the counter and wrap my apron around my waist. I wasn’t gone that long.
He taps his spatula on the pass-through window. “The four top,” he points to the table in the corner.
I look at the plates. I might have to make two trips. I decide to risk it and balance one of the big oval platters on my forearm, and grab a plate in each hand. Estelle made it look so easy. My focus is completely on my plates and not the alphas at the table. I get everything situated and wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist, finally clueing into the fact that the alpha was talking to me.
“I said, don’t you have an alpha to keep you wrapped up cozy in your nest?” He beams at me. He’s got that typicalalpha frame, broad shoulders, thick neck, but a bit of a belly now that he’s pushing forty or so.
“Rude.” As the word is coming out of my mouth, I want to snatch it back.
“It’s a compliment. You’re too pretty to work.”
I head back to the counter, but I only get two steps before I’m turning around.
“It’s gross that you think omegas are just pretty things and sex toys.”
“Bitch. No wonder you don’t have an alpha.”
I turn my back with visions of dumping his water over his head. I curse under my breath. There goes my tip. I can’t really afford to be snotty to customers when I just blew all my tips from this week on stupid makeup.
