Finding the Forward, Part One (HockeyVerse)

Chapter Five

Verity

“ M ercy. Breakfast,” I called from our cute little kitchen, which was done in yellows and chickens.

We’d filled the common areas of our apartment with cheerful colors and plants. Many, many more plants than the parents ever let me have inside. They spilled out onto the fire escape. It almost made up for not having a backyard garden.

Mercy and I had worked hard to make our place comfortable since for once, we could decorate how we wanted.

Our house, our rules.

No parents yelling at us. No littles needing our attention. No one borrowing our stuff or telling us we hadn’t cleaned up enough. Our own rooms.

Pure bliss.

We’d been through a lot of changes in the past four months. Most for the better, others bittersweet.

My coffee sloshed on my hand as I slid into my seat. Getting up to get a towel seemed like a lot of work before coffee. I’d come a long way in the last four months–a combination of luck, alpha healing, and sheer will.

But cleaning before coffee wasn’t happening. Licking the wake-up juice from my hand, I watched Mercy grab a towel from the counter.

“Now, that’s how you do it.” Mercy threw me a dish towel and plopped down in the other chair at the table. Her light brown hair was in two Dutch braids, with her usual colorful scrunchies at the ends. She wore a sports bra and some leggings, with a cropped tank, showing off her tanned muscles.

Mercy was five-foot-eight, still growing, and could bench more than most male alphas. While she hadn’t gone full-blown alpha yet, her spiced plum scent indicated that she was in that ‘young alpha’ stage. No doubt it would come soon.

I still had a few inches on her, and it probably would stay that way. We had different biological parents, but they were all part of the same pack. Mine were tall, even my beta mama.

My little sister favored our omega dad. But there was a lot of her mom in her, too, like her brown eyes and hair, the sharpness in her face, and her more classically alpha body type.

We finished breakfast, and she put the dishes in the dishwasher. I stashed my laptop in my backpack and slid into my sneakers because I didn’t have cute shoe clearance yet. Okay, my sneakers were far from ugly, but they weren’t the sort of shoes I used to wear daily.

“It’s our day to bring snacks.” Mercy went into the kitchen and made herself a smoothie.

“It’s in the fridge.” I knew from the moment the team ‘assigned’ me days to bring snacks that they were hazing me. But I enjoyed it. I was used to making them for my sibling’s teams. It was a good way to quell that alpha need to provide.

In turn, I was hazing them –seeing how long it took them to admit that they’d made it up.

Coat and backpack on, I grabbed the pink forearm crutch I used for stability when we were out and about. Mercy grabbed her duffle and the snack tote.

My stroke, caused by faulty alpha-blockers, caused some problems with my left leg. This affected my balance and mobility. I also had issues with my hormones, senses, and instincts, and was now sensitive to a couple of medications. It was a lot easier to overdo it now, and sometimes my leg hurt because of it.

I’d spent my summer in Rockland, doing major rehab and living in Grace’s guesthouse with Mercy. Now, here we were, in New York City, living our best life.

Carefully, I made my way down the stairs to the ground floor of our building, then the stoop, grateful we lived on the second floor since stairs were still hard to navigate. Our apartment was in a cute little townhouse in a bank of university-owned ones used for family and pack housing.

The New York Institute of Technology had asked me to leave Briar University and join my professor, Dr. Winters, as he helped build their plant genetics program. They’d offered me a very generous aid package that included campus housing.

Mercy and I set off across campus toward the metro, which was only a short walk. One that I was getting better at every day. Trees, green space, and beautiful buildings filled NYIT. It was one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in the nation. Though some of the uneven sidewalks were a pain to navigate.

“You know, you’re in New York now. The parents no longer control our lives . Shouldn’t you be partying and dating instead of making sure I’ve done my online classes and escorting me to practice? I mean, you didn’t even go out with your friends last night.” She flashed me a grin. My sister was a teen-age rookie, so the team had strict rules for her.

This was also an old conversation–and a ploy. Probably spurred by me turning down bar hopping with my cohort so I could accompany her to a promo thing for her team.

“As I’ve said before, when you turn eighteen next summer and sign a new contract, you can do whatever you want. Until then, you’re stuck with me. If you wanted to live with someone exciting, you should’ve signed with a different team.” I grinned back as we swiped our way into the metro.

My expression turned serious. “No one’s teasing you about it, right?”

Mercy shook her head as we headed to the platform. “No. But you work so hard. I’d love to see you have some fun for once. You don’t even go out. You’re always with me. Your classmates might feel neglected.”

No, my cohort understood how busy I was. Especially those who came with me from Briar and knew Mercy.

“Living with you is fun. Did you ever think that by caring for you, you’re both meeting your contractual obligations and helping me? ” I added as we joined the morning throng waiting for the metro, not wanting her to think she was a burden. I enjoyed living in New York with her. The change of scenery had done both of us good.

She nodded as she scrolled through her phone. “Got it. I’m an integral part of maintaining your mental health.”

“You know you are.”

We got on the metro, and I took one of the open seats. Mercy stood beside me in the crowded car.

It had been sheer luck that the university my professor was moving to was in New York City, and that the Manhattan Maimers had drafted Mercy. It felt as if we were meant to go for it.

So, we told the parents to screw themselves. Most were still not talking to us.

Fine by me. They dissolved the pack, moved away from our hometown of Research Circle, and were off living their own lives anyway. Well, except for Mom, who was still in jail.

Though I missed my younger siblings. Mumsy had returned to London, bringing Dad, Harry and the littles–my three tiny siblings–with her. Baba moved back to Bayside with Mama and my younger brother Chance.

Mercy and I got off the metro, left the station, and walked to the training center. The massive facility featured multiple ice rinks, locker rooms, workout areas, and training rooms. There was even a snack bar. They had public skate nights, kids’ leagues, recreation teams, and many other things. Sometimes, I liked to watch the figure skaters.

We made our way through the public areas and back to the Maimers’ locker room, using a code to enter.

“One package for delivery,” I called. Their locker room in the training center was spacious, with lockers for the team members, benches, and showers. A giant rug had the Maimers’ logo on it–a skate smash helmet and two axes.

“We don’t want any,” Rusty, the captain and a crusher like Mercy, laughed. She was a little older than me and loved to garden, so we had a lot to talk about. Her skate smash name was Rusty Nails.

They were all about the nicknames in skate smash. Mercy had been Have No Mercy for years. Contractually, I had to drop Mercy off and pick her up, so I’d become Team Mom. I waved to everyone as Mercy went to her locker.

“Hey, Team Mom. Today’s your day for snacks. Did you remember?” Ash, who played swing, asked. He was in his early twenties, with fuck-boy good looks, and liked to forget his shirt. Sometimes, his pants. There was a reason his nickname was Grievous Bodily Charm.

“Of course. I made something you haven’t tried yet. I modified it for Kaiko’s food allergies. Let me know if it’s a keeper.” I handed over the tote.

“I liked those muffins you made last time,” Liv replied. She was co-captain and also an alpha. She had green spiky hair, a sleeve of tattoos, and multiple piercings.

“Yeah, but maybe you could add a little more orange? I love orange,” Ash added as he put on his skates, still shirtless.

The Maimers were a co-ed, mixed designation team. Skate smash was alpha-heavy, with only a few betas–and also female-dominated.

“We’ve got some stuff in the community today, so we’ll text you if the pickup time and location change,” Rusty told me. Her look went sly. “You can come help.”

“I love helping you out, but I have to teach a class this afternoon. See you all later.” With a wave, I left the locker room and used my badge to take the elevator upstairs. The team had facilities on the upper floors, some shared with the Knights. The two teams were owned by different members of the same family.

Rusty had gotten me permission to use the small weight room. While I was welcome to workout with the team, I didn’t want to annoy my sister. Also, I didn’t want them to see me struggle.

Alone, I went through all the exercises my physio told me to do. I was still in physical therapy and would be for a while. Then I did a leg workout and some cardio to keep in shape since I couldn’t play fútbol for fun anymore.

Cleaning off the equipment with disinfecting de-scenter, I changed, fixed my hair and makeup, and sprayed myself with more de-scenter. Post stroke, my scent had gotten strong, and it bothered me. But I could no longer use blockers of any kind.

Workout done. Time for a little treat. Downstairs, I got my usual chai latte from the cart. Banners and cutouts of the teams, as well as posters about their different programs and offerings, filled the lobby.

It was still something to see my little sister on a giant sign.

“Did you see those Knights last night?” the barista asked me, as she made my drink.

“No, I don’t really follow hockey.” I’d met some of the Knights, since they shared the facility with the Maimers. The rookies were quite sweet.

She handed me my latte. “No? I figured you were a Hurricane fan, considering that sweatshirt you always wear.” She winked. “Big Daddy Hurricane is a Knight now.”

Big Daddy Hurricane? That sounded straight out of a sports romance. Last night, I finished a racing one. Mmmm.

“The Maimers are doing a promo at their next home game. I’ll check them out. Thanks.” I took my latte to the rink they were using and sat in my usual spot in the stands to watch practice, resting my crutch against the rail.

While I didn’t have to stay once I dropped Mercy off, it was nice to take a moment to drink my tea and get organized for the day.

My big sister Grace had texted me. I might not talk to the parents, but I kept in touch with my siblings.

Pulling on my sweatshirt against the chill of the rink, I replied to some texts, checked my email, then did some reading for class. NYIT had us Briar students taking a few things to meet their requirements, though they’d been very flexible with us, especially me.

As always, the cozy sweatshirt made me think of Grif–that one bright spot in a horrible day. While I was curious who he was, given he wasn’t on any pro fútbol team I could find, I hadn’t sought him out beyond that.

Starting a new PhD program, my research, teaching, taking care of my sister, and physical therapy took all my energy. More sometimes.

Really, I should’ve listened to Grace and not taken the teaching position. I was also glad that Dr. Winters had me focusing on my research instead of helping with his.

Still, I thought of Grif. A lot. Every time I watched a rom-com. Every time I saw a plane–or a cat. Every time I touched myself.

Whoever he was, I hoped he’d won his game. Maybe I’d been looking in the wrong sport. Other sports had forwards. With his size, he could play rugby.

I just didn’t have time for that right now.

Selfishly, I was glad I didn’t find Grif. The sweatshirt helped get me through the most grueling parts of my stroke recovery, and I didn’t want to give it back.

Also, with him, I’d felt something. The kind of connection where if I found him again, I wouldn’t let him go. Him not wanting me in that same way would break my heart.

After all, I wasn’t much of an alpha.

Yes, it would be better to keep him as a fond memory.