“Aye aye, Captain,” she said, saluting before rolling the window up.
I’d never seen an alpha move so fast. They were in the car and following us before we even hit the end of the driveway.
“So, are we on the lookout for a pack for you tonight?”
“Nope,” she said. “Haven’t found one that can handle my brutal honesty yet and I have no plans to find them tonight. I don’t try to be a bitch, I just have a lot to say. Someday, though, I think I’d like one. Just because I’m an independent omega doesn’t mean I don’t want someone to worship the ground I walk on.”
“Damn right,” I said.
“I kind of pictured ending up with the whole suburban life,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I would have the best soccer mom energy. Can you imagine me yelling from the sidelines?”
“Oh, I absolutely can,” I laughed before she turned up the song, singing along as she navigated through Westgrave.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of Lola’s. It was a dark brick building with a neon sign. There was a flashing pink martini glass glowing above the name. A few people milled outside, but it was fairly quiet.
“Do you ever play pool?” she asked as we climbed out.
“Actually, yeah. My parents had a table growing up. My brother and I used to wager chores on it. Later, it turned into actual cash.”
She laughed. “I like him already.”
“He’s the best.”
“Blond hockey player, protective… nope,” she said, shaking her head. “My number one rule is never date a hockey player.”
“I said I was never trusting them again either,” I admitted. “And look at me now.”
“Life has a way of making us eat our words.”
We flashed our IDs at the bouncer and headed inside. The music wasn’t too loud, so it was easy to talk over. We stopped at the bar first. I ordered Lola’s signature cocktail, while Roxie snagged a beer. She led me over to the last open pool table, staking our claim.
“Hey ladies, want some competition?” a guy asked, stepping up right as she leaned over to gather the pool balls.
“No,” Roxie said flatly. “Move along.”
“Tough crowd,” he muttered, pointing back to his friends. “If you change your mind, we’re over there.”
When neither of us acknowledged him, he walked away muttering about stuck up omegas.
Roxie prepped the table and nodded for me to break. I leaned over and took my shot, several balls dropping cleanly into the pockets.
“Now,” she said as she watched me take my turn, sipping her beer. “Tell me about the letters.”
As the game went on, we sipped our drinks, warmth spreading through me, giving me the confidence to catch her up to speed.
“Honestly? I felt nothing. They apologized and took ownership. That alone is a huge change, but it didn’t move me. I deserve better, and I know that.”
“A tale as old as time,” she said. “Alphas get wrapped up in building a name and wealth, vowing to take care of their pack, then forget there’s more to life.”
“Exactly. My pack plays hard, practices hard, talks hockey nonstop, but they don’t neglect me. If I was sick or scared, they’d be there in an instant.”
“And the old pack?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t think we were ever right for each other.”
“That says enough.”
Another alpha approached. Roxie looked him in the eyes, growled low, then barked like a psycho. He backed off immediately, looking horrified, as we burst into laughter.
