Assholes.
Our old coach always said having the big, shared house helped keep the brotherhood of the team alive. He couldn’t force packs to stay but encouraged them to stay at least one night a week during busy weeks.
Apparently, it backfired because they disbanded the house after firing them and sold it.
I wasn’t sad to find my own place. That house was miserable during trade, even more so thanks to the first line acting like they were God’s gift to hockey. Something I vowed I would never let happen with me.
I was damn lucky to have the position I did. I worked my ass off for it, but I’d been in hockey since I was in pull-ups. Age alone meant I shouldn’t be in a position like this for years but I’d proven my worth to this team and earned it.
“Come on,” Lach urged, nudging me to move. “Let’s go meet our supposed babysitter.”
Half the team had already made up their minds about this girl. I wanted to see her in action first. None of this was her fault.
Not to mention, disrespecting management was one surefire way to get traded, and I wasn’t looking to leave North Crossing anytime soon. I loved my life here.
I’d loved it even more since I’d snagged my apartment across town.
It was just a month-to-month lease in case Hayes decided we needed to go back to the old ways of living together as a team, but I needed a break from the guys.
Hockey seasons always dragged out thanks to random heats and all the accommodations we had to make for them. It was just too much time around these assholes.
Lachlan moved in with me a week later. He was just as fed up with the bullshit as I was and even though we were given two months to find alternate places to live, he couldn’t take it.
We were the youngest members on the team, and they loved to treat us like it even though we were the least enthusiastic about being there. Nothing said ‘brotherhood’ quite like putting down whoever you could and laughing about it together, right? Dicks. I wasn’t sad to see them go and a few of their closest friends on the team.
At least we tried to fit in. Players like Greer Abbott were more concerned about their own peace than being teammates. Attitudes like that certainly didn’t help boost our image. We looked like we were ready to be at each other’s throats half the time.
It might be why I always overcompensated with my personality, laying the charm on thick where I could, drawing attention to myself instead of the mess behind the scenes.
The team felt new now, the switch ups and trades weeded out the bad seeds and left us with something fresh, even if it was a bit disjointed at the moment.
Coach Hayes would have us uniting in our misery soon enough.
We were the last to walk in beside Coach. Everyone avoided eye contact as we took two of the front seats they’d avoided like the plague. Sometimes alphas were just stubborn, little babies.
It felt a bit strange being on this side of the PR table. Usually, we didn’t fill the reporters’ chairs, and I could already see right through the setup.
We had a million conference rooms in this fucking arena to have this conversation in, and yet Hayes put us here, a place where she would absolutely be on the spot with all of us staring at her.
It felt shitty and unnecessary. Another alpha power play.
That feeling only intensified when a stunning omega walked in.
She was petite like most omegas were, but sturdy, too, with flared hips and thick thighs. Black lipstick showcased her punk rock vibe, and her hair was twisted into two cute little buns on top of her head, the rest hanging wild around her shoulders.
I already liked her, which only pissed me off more that Hayes was being so shitty.
She glanced down at the watch around her wrist and then eyed us all. If nerves bothered her, she didn’t show it, but she did look frustrated.
I noticed Coach still wasn’t there with us. Imagine being late just to prove a point.
Finally he stormed in, not bothering with apologies as he sat at the front.
“The floor is yours, journalist.” He spit out the words like he was a king passing judgment. I had a feeling if Jeremiah Kingsford heard him, he’d be fired on the spot.
If this omega had torn into him, I wouldn’t have blamed her.
Instead, she simply stared at him for a few long seconds… just long enough to make it awkward.
