Finding the Forward, Part One (HockeyVerse)

Chapter Three

Dean

F our Months Later

“That last game was fantastic. I’m so excited about the home opener tomorrow,” the barista at the coffee cart told me as she handed me my usual.

“Me, too. Thanks.” It was October, and the hockey season had already started, but we’d been on the road to start. I took a sip of my drink. While the team had food and drinks for us, the matcha lattes here were amazing.

A whiff of something ensnared my attention. Looking around, I didn’t see anyone else in the airy lobby.

I’d caught it several times since returning to the New York Ice Center for the start of hockey season. Like always, I couldn’t quite determine what it was–or even if it was pleasant or unpleasant. Simply that it grabbed me.

Showing my credentials, I took the front elevator up into the locked area that was for my team. Where were my pack-mates? Well, soon-to-be packmates. Now that we were all together in the same city, we’d begun the paperwork and were waiting out the local residency requirement.

They were probably in the weight room. I’d been in the small conference room reviewing videos with the other goalies and our coach, then ducked downstairs for my matcha latte fix.

Voices drifted down the hall.

“...what do you think?” Steve Atkins, head coach of the New York Knights, said.

“Grif Graf’s as solid as a steel wall. Dependable, great work ethic, quick to help. He’s really getting into a rhythm with Carlos and the Wonder Rookie. You’re not going to regret that line. He also fits in with the rest of the team,” Elias Royce, our team captain, replied.

While calling someone by their last name was common in hockey, Griffin McGraff had been Grif Graf since we were children.

My belly tightened as I slowed my pace. Grif had just gotten to us. Something we’d been trying to do ever since we’d graduated from BosTec and joined the PHL.

Grif told me weeks ago that the Knights wanted more than he was giving. Which made him train harder. I’d brushed it off as new-team jitters since he’d been playing great. After all, he was on the second line.

Still, I indulged my husband as he adjusted his pre-game routine. Him sitting with an empty seat next to him on the plane instead of with me. Watching some dumb-ass rom-com in-flight. Giving me a hand job under an ugly blanket.

He was more solid than ever. Why were they even questioning him? He’d won the Hurricanes the championship. Grif was one of the highest scorers in the PHL. My husband was an asset to the Knights.

How dare they?

“I know they like him. I like him, too. He works hard. The fans love him. Still...” Coach Atkins’ voice grew pinched. “There are some concerns. Enforcer’s not really a beta position.”

Oh. That was it. Someone had their panties in a twist because they’d traded in a beta for a traditionally alpha position.

Ha. If only they knew.

The enforcer was a player who took care of business on the ice–as in he responded to the other team’s shit through violence. Which was why it was traditionally an alpha player who held the job. Though there were plenty of beta forwards.

“True. But it’s not like he hasn’t been doing it for his entire career. Give him some time to settle in. We’ve been on the road. For what it’s worth, I think he’s doing fine.” Elias was a grizzled veteran defender in the Professional Hockey League, and an alpha. He only had a year or two left. His packmate was co-captain.

Huh.

The words weighed heavily on my soul. I’d just gotten Grif back, and I couldn’t lose him. Long distance during the long hockey seasons had been brutal. Being with him during the off-season was never enough.

Elias was right, Grif was still adjusting to being a Knight. New ice, new team, new coach, new city. We’d train a little harder and get his routine sorted.

Naively, I figured he’d be fine now that he was with us, even if they wouldn’t give him a no-trade clause. While we might not be an official pack until the paperwork went through, who in their right mind would trade the spouse of an omega? Especially when said omega was the goalie?

Them, apparently.

Music blared as I entered the large weight room. A different team greeted me. The New York Knights shared the training facility with the skate smash team, the Manhattan Maimers.

The scents coming from the room overpowered me–as usual. Which was why I liked to use the small weight room. While both leagues were technically mixed-designation, they were alpha-heavy because of the violence and intensity. All the industrial cleaner, de-scenter, and filters in the world couldn’t make the weight room smell like anything other than sweaty alpha.

“Hey.” I waved from the doorway when a few of them noticed me. I hadn’t seen much of them since we’d had so many away games to start.

The Maimers were a newer team to the Professional Skate Smash League and still finding their way. They were young, fun, energetic, and loved to prank us. Skate smash was a few weeks behind hockey schedule-wise and they were starting pre-season.

“Double D! Are you lost? Or did Grif lose his cat again?” Rusty waved, spotting someone with light-brown Dutch braids as she bench-pressed.

My nickname was ‘Double D’ because I was Dean Donovan.

“Yes, I’m looking for Lucky.” I grinned. During the PHL finals, Grif had somehow acquired an invisible cat. It was hysterical to see him scold teammates for nearly sitting on Lucky.

“The rookies might know.” Rusty laughed and looked at the person she was spotting. The tattooed Maimers’ captain and I went way back–she’d been with the Pyros when I was with the Aces. Like here, the teams shared a facility. Her bright red hair was short with shaved sides.

I took another drink of my latte. Geez, I must be getting old–the brunette bench-pressing didn’t look old enough to play pro sports.

“There you are,” Jonas said, coming behind me.

My alpha mate played defense. His job was to protect me. We’d met while playing at BosTec, the Boston Institute of Technology. He’d been a year ahead of Grif and me.

“Rusty, stop heckling my omega, or I’ll hide your skates.” Jonas Soeng put a tattooed arm around me. He wore his blue-dyed hair shaved on the sides and longer on top. Handsome in a bad-boy way, he had a scar that ran from temple to jaw, along with lots of tattoos and piercings.

While it wasn’t uncommon for packmates to play together, Jonas and I were currently the only public alpha-omega mated pair in the PHL. We’d mated a couple of years ago after a jealous teammate had outed me when I played for the Philadelphia Aces.

PHL rules said an alpha-omega pair had to be kept together, even without a pack contract. Bonding with him after my asshole teammate outed me helped me to leave the Aces without making too many enemies.

Previously, we’d been waiting to get onto the same team. I was big for an omega. Not as big as Grif, who was larger than anyone on the team. But I was six-foot-one and broad-shouldered enough that most people thought I was an alpha on sight. Hiding as beta hadn’t been too difficult.

Until fucking Beau Bachman outed me. Asshole.

Rusty smirked at Jonas. “Are you still mad that we put happy faces on all your pucks last season? You know, we’re going to be doing the ice bath challenge on local university campuses again. The Knights are always welcome to join us. Our socials exploded last time you helped.”

“Oh? You want to see me soaking wet?” I laughed, striking a pose.

“Haze the Hurricane, then,” she teased.

“Now, that could be fun,” Jonas chuckled. He’d put his eyebrow ring and tongue ring back in–he took them out for practice and games.

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish. Smell you later, Rusty Nails.” I waved as Jonas and I set off arm in arm.

Grif sat in the locker room downstairs, half-dressed, frowning as he talked on his phone. Most people figured he was all muscle–a tank to bulldoze people and handle the on-ice fights. However, he had skills and could handle a puck like no one’s business.

“You don’t know? Can you–” Grif’s shoulders slumped as one hand rubbed his neatly trimmed red beard as he spoke on the phone. “Okay. I see. Thanks.” He ended the call.

“Everything okay?” I sat down next to him and leaned my head on his bicep, which held the pack tattoo all four of us had. It was a Celtic knot composed mostly of sticks and pucks. I’d designed it myself.

It was right above the matching Celtic armband tattoos we got one night while young and drunk. We had infinity hearts tattooed on our chests when we’d married this summer. He also had a Griffin tattoo with music notes on one arm and a boat with jellybeans on the sails on the other.

“I’m fine,” he sighed, laying his head on top of mine.

Sure.

Jonas was my bonded alpha. Grif was my soul. We’d been together since the third grade–back when we figured we’d grow up to be alphas. Even when we tested as betas in middle school, we never thought we’d be omegas. We were too big and weren’t afraid to be violent.

We’d married over the summer. Instead of rings, we’d gotten ring tattoos, which I’d also designed–an intricate band of knotwork with a puck at the center like a stone.

While omegas could bond with each other, the law didn’t recognize it like alpha-omega bonds. We’d bond with each other after the pack contract went through. After we were certain that the Knights couldn’t trade us away from each other. Though he planned on hiding his designation as long as he could.

“Get dressed, Grif. No one wants to see your junk,” Jonas teased, throwing a shirt at him. He was taller than me but shorter than Grif, and not as bulky, but still broad and muscular in all the right places for a defender.

I texted AJ, the other member of our soon-to-be pack.

Me

You’re coming?

AJ

Running late

The three of us got ready and made our way out to the ice. It was already full of players and their packmates and families. A small group of press sat in the stands. Given tomorrow was our home opener, today we were having a family skate.

No AJ yet. He’d be there. Grif, Jonas, and I skated out, holding hands, me in the middle.

Nia, one of our centers, had her dog on a leash, and I waved. Pupper loved the ice and skittered about in a black and silver Knights jersey, matching Nia’s twin toddlers. While the team was male-dominated, we had several lady players. All but one were forwards.

I looked around, skating out of the way of the rookies racing past. Our mascot, Nat the Knight, played tag with some kids.

My heart melted at the tiny children on the ice in their little Knights jerseys. I loved seeing the spouses, packmates, and children of our teammates. Nothing was as sexy as a giant player with a baby in a tiny jersey.

Grif holding a baby? Fuck me. One day...

Jonas skated off to talk to one of the alpha defenders. Probably to chat about pack contracts since she’d formed her pack over the summer.

That scent taunted me again. Like before, it was just a hint of something. But what?

“Are you okay?” Grif joined me, squeezing my hand.

“I keep catching a weird scent. But I should be asking you. You never answered my question back there in the locker room.” I frowned, worry for him tugging at my soul.

He leaned against the wall of the rink, looking pensive, as his giant, pale hand raked his red hair. “I’ve been thinking about Airplane Girl.”

“Airplane Girl? Why? It’s been months. She never reached out to you. Not even to congratulate you for your win or to return my sweatshirt.” Huh. I’d sort of forgotten about her.

“When we played Rockland it reminded me how upset she’d been, how shitty her family treated her,” he added. “I’d half-hoped to see her there. That she’d stayed with her siblings instead of returning home.”

Which was very much a Grif thought. We’d grown up together in Boston. I’d been the spoiled only child of a wealthy alpha-omega couple. Grif grew up in a giant-ass pack with tons of kids and had always been worrying about someone or something.

“You were just another puck in her pouch,” I teased him. That must have been some flight.

Yeah, she knew his first name and team. Shit, she probably knew who he was. Her silence meant she wasn’t interested, and my sweatshirt was a trophy.

Grif shook his head. “I get the sneaking suspicion she assumed I’m a fútboler.”

“What?” I snorted at the image of him kicking a black and white ball across a grass field while running around in shorts and knee socks.

“A lot of the pictures I found online of her were of her playing collegiate fútbol. When I told her I was a forward, she said she’d played forward, too.”

“Oh.” Okay. I could see that. “If you figured out who she is, why don’t you message her on social media?”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t have any, and I haven’t been successful at contacting her any other way.”

“Who doesn’t have any socials? I’m sure she’s fine. You’ve got other things to think about–like tomorrow’s game,” I assured him.

“Yeah. I’m sure she’s okay.” Grif nodded, as if trying to convince himself.

“Hey, make sure you’re focused for the game tomorrow,” I whispered, remembering what I’d overheard. “While you’re on fire, you still have a lot to prove.”

“Like I don’t know. I found out what they want from me. They want my final game performance every night. ” Defeat rolled off him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Sure, we knew they wanted last season’s Grif. Which he’d delivered. What I hadn’t realized was that they meant final game Grif. Grif’s performance in the last game of the championship finals was stuff hockey legends were made of. It was the best game of his career.

He also had major motivation– me.

“What can I do, Gumdrop?” I pulled him to me, fitting nicely into him, his rainy scent too sour and salty for my liking.

His head bowed. “If I’d known they were only giving it to me to save face, I never would’ve taken the contract.”

It had turned out that the Knight’s offer to trade him in if he won the championship had been a joke to get Grif’s agent off their back. When he’d won, and I’d made it public that he was winning for love, the team had to honor their word. We hadn’t known about this until training camp when Grif’s agent let it slip.

Who wouldn’t want a player like Grif? Certainly, he hadn’t lacked offers. But Jonas and I couldn’t just go wherever we wanted. I’d grown tired of waiting for the four of us to be together.

“I believe in you. The team loves you.” My heart shattered. How could I even fix this?

“I’ll keep pushing myself so they don’t trade me. I won’t leave you Jellybean.” His arms wrapped around me.

His statement made me suppress an omega whine. I know, Gumdrop. I know.

Loud music flooded the rink as lights flashed. A mob of people in unicorn onesies skated onto the ice with us. Our social media guy skated closer to catch everything on his phone.

“The Maimers have entered the building,” I laughed as they danced in formation, crashing our family skate. Skate smash was more performance-oriented. While we gave a good show, we didn’t have on-ice dance battles.

Coach Atkins looked mildly annoyed at their antics, but most of the little kids lit up.

“There you are.” AJ Zaman joined us on the ice, wearing an expensive suit and a pair of sunglasses. His skin was a deep golden, his features regal. Near-black wavy hair was short, his goatee neat. He was the oldest of the four of us and good-looking.

Not my style romantically, but we were great friends. Everything about him was expensive–and a total sham.

“AJ, you’re here.” Grif lit up. They’d met back in the minors and became fast friends. Sometimes, they were more. Right now, they were waiting for the pack contract before getting serious.

Well, that and AJ wanted to be his alpha. Grif, who was always at war with his omega nature, wasn’t quite ready for that. Especially because he was terrified of anyone discovering that he was hiding his designation.

“Sorry, Compass BioTek is making announcements again. You’d think a privately held company wouldn’t affect the stock market the way they do.” AJ made a face. Compass BioTek dealt in painless medicine and was constantly coming out with new things.

AJ had retired from hockey because of injuries and now worked in finance.

“Hey AJ.” Jonas joined us. Those two were also friends and worked out in our home gym together and played video games and shit.

While Jonas would be our head alpha, AJ had given us our pack name–Pack Lune Noire. Since it reminded him of a puck. Yep, AJ spoke a ton of languages, and we loved him for it.

“Always,” AJ assured, giving Grif a fond look.

“I’m glad you made it.” Grif wrapped his arm around him. AJ was about the same height as Jonas but more broad-shouldered.

Jonas grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s join the fun. The family’s all here, so let’s skate.”

I let him pull us away from the wall. “Yes, let’s.”

Yep, Pack Lune Noire would go out there and show them we were a pack. Tomorrow night, Grif would get out on the ice and prove them wrong.

Then he’d be here to stay.