sol
Thedean’sofficesmellslike old coffee and desperation. I sit in the stiff leather chair across from his desk with my legs crossed, hands resting calmly in my lap, and wait for him to finish his little performance. Dean Hartley is red-faced already, the way he always gets when he thinks he has leverage. The associate athletic director, a thin man named Paul something-or-other, is sitting to his right looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Coach Vega,” the dean starts, his voice tightening a little, “we’ve received a formal complaint regarding your… relationships with student-athletes.”
I don’t blink. “Relationships. Plural.”
He clears his throat. “Yes. It has come to our attention that you and Roxie Calloway have been involved for some time, and now there are concerns about Blair Reyes as well. This is highly inappropriate.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Inappropriate how, exactly? Because as far as I’m aware, Knotlocke doesn’t have any written policy prohibiting consensual relationships between staff and students—especially when those students are legal adults. If such a rule exists, or is about to exist, I’d appreciate seeing it in writing. Plainly listed. So I know exactly which line I’m crossing.”
Paul shifts uncomfortably. The dean’s face gets redder. “Coach, you know damn well this kind of thing creates a power imbalance.”
I force a smile onto my face, knowing that this would become a problem eventually. “I agree. If I weren’t mated to one of the very players you seem to have a problem with, I might even call it inappropriate myself.”
Silence drops like a weight.
The dean stares. Paul’s mouth actually opens and closes once without sound.
“Mated,” the dean repeats, like the word tastes bad.
“Yes.” I reach up and tug the collar of my hoodie down just enough to show the healed mark on my collarbone. “Roxie and I have been bonded for fourteen months. Secretly, because we both knew how some people on this campus would react. But it’s done. Legal. Permanent.”
The dean’s eyes narrow. “And the Omega? Reyes?”
I let the silence stretch a beat longer than comfortable. “Blair is ours. Both of ours. And before you start clutching your pearlsabout funding or optics or whatever nonsense you’re about to throw at me, let me be very clear: he is more than a money bag to us. He is a whole person. A very lovable, occasionally annoying person who happens to be our mate.”
Paul finally finds his voice. “This could be a serious conflict of interest. We can’t afford to lose Blair Reyes’ support for the wrestling and MMA program—”
I cut him off with a soft laugh that has no humor in it. “That’s the real concern, isn’t it? Not my relationship with two consenting adults, but the fact that Blair’s family money might walk if you push too hard.” I reach into the inner pocket of my hoodie and pull out the check I’ve been carrying since this morning. I slide it across the desk. “This is the second one Blair has personally provided to the athletic department. The first one saved the baseball team last month and now you’ll be able to get all that fancy equipment and maybe even a new gym. So, maybe get yourself off Mr. Reyes’ dick and realize that Blair is doing just fine on his own. He doesn’t need his father’s name to matter here.”
The dean’s jaw works. “Be careful, Sol.”
I stand up slowly, smoothing my hoodie back into place. “If this were any other campus, I would be. But this isn’t that campus. Funnily enough, you almost encourage things like this. It brings more attention and money to your school. Don’t start finding your morality now just because it’s inconvenient for your bottom line.”
I turn toward the door but the dean’s voice stops me. “We’re not finished here.”
I look back over my shoulder. “Wait—this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Blair’s father, would it?”
The silence that follows is answer enough.
A short bitter laugh pulls from my lips. “If his father would like to come talk to me himself, that’s fine. Otherwise? I’m not givingup my mates because you’re worried about a little funding.” I nod at the check still sitting on his desk. “Use it wisely.”
I close the door behind me with a quiet click that feels louder than it should, relieved that the hallway is blessedly empty. I walk straight to my office, needing a minute to breathe, to let the adrenaline settle. I’ve spent fourteen months hiding my bond with Roxie. Now the secret is out, and instead of relief I just feel… protective. Fiercely, bone-deep protective of both of them.
I push open my office door and stop at the sight before me. Blair is curled up in my chair, having made something of a nest, my spare hoodie draped over the back, one of Roxie’s practice jerseys balled under his cheek, a couple of my old training towels arranged around him like they could possibly compare to real nesting materials. His dark curls are messy, his lips slightly parted on a snore, and his face soft in sleep in a way I rarely get to see. The scent of him fills the room, still carrying traces of both me and Roxie from last night, but edged with something smaller and sadder underneath.
I close the door gently behind me and cross the room. He doesn’t stir until I’m right in front of the chair. I crouch down, brushing a curl off his forehead. “I didn’t think you’d be the kind of Omega who makes a nest,” I murmur.
Blair’s eyes flutter open. For a second he looks confused, then embarrassed, then that familiar guarded smirk tries to slide into place. It doesn’t quite make it.
“Do you really want me?” he asks, voice rough from sleep.
I straighten and sit on the edge of the desk so I can look at him properly. “What are you talking about? You asked that this morning too.”
He bites his lip, his eyes dropping to his hands. “You didn’t want to have sex last night.”
I let out a slow breath. “I just wanted to have a conversation while we were all levelheaded. Have you been worrying about that this whole time?”
