Page 12 of Pack End Game

"Which one is yours?" Coach asks with weary resignation.

"She's not ours yet," I point out. A detail I already loathe, my chest aching in protest to how wrong the statement feels. The ache feels like a physical reminder that fate won’t be ignored, as if I would dare take the gift of a scent-match for granted. There's no way our pack will feel anything but complete adoration for our mate. Some people turn their nose up at the idea of falling in insta-love with a scent-match, but there are plenty of people who settle into relationships for far less compelling reasons. The statistics for scent-match relationships that fail are practically nonexistent. Fate knows what it's doing.

"Which one will be yours?"

"The dark-haired woman." My gaze is drawn to her again, my alpha desperate to draw closer. My willpower is being seriously tested, and though I'm usually considered pretty unflappable, I'm feeling plenty of things that are absolutely fucking flapping me right now.

"At least she's behind the camera and not in front of one," Coach grumbles. He grabs the front of my helmet and yanks me close. The clock is running out on our time-out. "Listen, I need you to keep your head in this game a little longer. The stakes are too high to risk putting second-string in. Mitchell is good, but he's not you."

"I know, but–"

"I'll arrange for someone to bring the omega to the tunnel after the game. You can meet her outside the locker room, and use Freddie's dressing room for some privacy as you get to know each other."

As an alpha, I hate being interrupted. As a player on this team, I don't get to out-alpha Coach Lamb. Still, I hate his idea of having someone else escort her into the tunnel. I don't want some random member of the security team getting to talk to her before our pack gets to.

One of the game officials blows his whistle on the field, warning us that our time out is ending. If I don't get back in position soon, we risk a penalty for delay of game.

"Get out there." Coach tries nudging me onto the field, but my feet are planted firmly.

I shake my head. "I want Freddie to be the one to get her."

"Seriously?" Coach knows better than to hope I'm joking. He waves me onto the field with an exasperated huff. "Fine, fine. You get me another touchdown, Spencer, and I'll explain to Deacon Kane later why Simon the Sloth skipped out on his post-game routine."

"Consider it done," I tell him with the utmost confidence. Winning by one touchdown was never going to be enough to satisfy me anyway.

As I pivot toward the field, I notice Freddie, dressed in his mascot costume, has crept close enough to look like he's eavesdropping even though I can't imagine he could hear us through the suit. He tips his head in silent question. I'm not even sure if he's caught the scent of our omega yet.

"Be ready!" I shout loud enough to ensure he hears me through his thick suit.

He shrugs his sloth shoulders and nods.

Oh, hell. He definitely doesn't seem to realize yet that the missing piece of our pack has been found. Too bad I won't get to see the look on his face when he realizes the reporter he's going to be asked to collect is her.

Hopefully, he'll contain his enthusiastic personality enough not to make her think the worst of us. Freddie is harmless and a lot of fun, but he can be a little much without Zak and me around to balance him out. She needs to see all three of us together before she draws any conclusions for herself about our pack.

"Clock is running," a referee in his black-and-white striped shirt mutters to me as I jog past him.

"Yes, sir," I acknowledge in the most polite tone I can muster. My attention is already focused beyond him, on Zak standing slightly apart from the offensive line, his helmet dangling from his fingers. His eyebrows are knit down with worry, which wouldn't usually strike me as a surprise since he tends to take a nurturing, worrisome parental role in our pack, but then his gaze slides past me.

I know exactly who he's looking at, confirming that he's caught her scent too, so I share his pain as he draws his gaze back to me with reluctant anguish. We both want nothing more than to be at the mystery omega's side right now, but we've made a commitment to this team. Neither of us could face our omega in good conscience–or look ourselves in the mirror–if we abandoned being men of our words.

"Give me six more!" I call out to Zak, pointing at the scoreboard.

He hesitates, almost as if he wants to argue, before giving a terse nod of his head and yanking his helmet on. "You're the Captain!"

The captain of our team on the field, and the head alpha of our pack at home. All the responsibility lies squarely on my shoulders, but I'm broad-shouldered enough to carry the weight. Let's just hope I'm making all the right choices because when the final whistle blows to end this game, there's going to be something far more precious than the team's league ranking at stake.

Chapter Six

Freddie

If someone asked me for a recap of today’s game, I’d have to make something up completely. I can’t even remember the first quarter. My connection to Simon’s soul has been temporarily severed, and my concentration is long gone.

Courtesy of the sweet little omega on the sidelines holding a camera that’s almost half her size.

I don’t even try to pretend otherwise at this point. My head turns like I’m possessed every time she shifts. It’s honestly embarrassing. If anyone were paying attention to me instead of the game, as they usually would be, I’d be exposed immediately as a fraud. Today I am a man unworthy of his suit.

Yet, my pride in my role seems minuscule when I look at her.