His eyes widened. “Holy shit. My future roommate is famous.”
“Hardly,” I laughed. “We’re still trying to get off the ground, but I just took a job opportunity that could make that happen a bit faster.”
“What’s the job?” he questioned.
“How acquainted are you with hockey?” I asked.
His expression darkened, and I chuckled. “Yeah, my sentiments exactly. However, when they put that much money behind an offer, I can’t really turn it down.”
“Let’s just say hockey and I have a bad history,” he offered. “But I know enough, especially after that whole neglected omega story last year.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” I explained. “My best friend was that neglected omega. She lived here in North Crossing at the time.”
“Oh, wow,” he gasped, the conversation already easier as our nerves settled. “is she okay now?”
“Oh, yeah,” I promised. “Her new pack is everything those assholes thought they were. But after I wrote that piece things haven’t exactly looked good for the Narwhals.”
He snorted. “I imagine not.”
“They hired me to tell the world what the Narwhals are like behind closed doors. I get to trail them and interview the players and coaches, try to give the world a view they don’t usually see. I wrote it in the contract that I would report the truth, good or bad, and shockingly the owner agreed to it.”
“Wow,” he said.
“‘Wow’ indeed,” I agreed, as I sipped my latte. “It’s up to them to prove they’re good people or not. I just report the facts and get paid to do it.”
He grinned. “I love that for you.”
It was crazy how we already felt like old friends, the conversation flowing easily as we gossiped about our lives. With the amount of pain I saw in his eyes I wasn’t sure if it would shift to more as time went on, but either way, in a month I’d officially be living in North Crossing with my scent-match roommate and navigating a new job.
The start of a new era indeed.
Chapter
Two
Greer
A month later
All the air rushed out of my lungs as I was slammed mercilessly into the plexiglass before I could even recover. My teammates were on him immediately, pulling the asshole off of me. Gloves were already dropping as bodies collided along the boards before the refs could even get in there.
The whistle came a bit too late. Of course, it fucking did.
They let it slide—again—but that seemed to be all they were fucking doing this game. We were two penalties in, already down minutes, and they were untouched. Not even a fucking warning.
Instigator fights were common in the AHA. When you put this many alphas and deltas on the ice, testosterone and pheromones would always run high. It was part of the game, whether the league wanted to admit it or not.
That was the whole purpose behind putting deltas on rut blockers, even if they didn’t tell that to the general public. Yet,alphas still thought it was fine to start shit with us like those would steal away our nature. If I wanted to lose control that ice would already be painted red.
After the whole delta scandal and the assholes protesting outside trying to push us out of the league entirely, we had to be a whole lot more careful about our actions.
Not to mention the Narwhals were already in the doghouse.
Thank fuck this was my final year playing. I was swiftly getting tired of all the bureaucracy and gossip surrounding the sport.
I thought my career was over then and I’d accepted it.
Instead, it did the opposite. My name now had traction and I’d been interviewed more than ever. Somehow, I’d turned into the poster boy for delta stability. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
