Page 31

Chapter thirty-one

Wren

Raider’s words ring in my head as I drive.

It hurts that they didn’t trust me, but I fucked up. Even I know I did. I shouldn’t have looked at my phone, but as soon as I saw the photo Tiff had sent me of Raider and Ryann, I had stopped thinking logically and just grabbed the phone when it rang.

She’d been almost hysterical. It was all I could do to listen to her dribble and not scream at her to tell me where the photo came from.

But what I’d got out of her was enough to have me panicking and promising to meet her.

I’ve been driving for almost two hours when I spot the diner she sent me directions to. It’s got a wide, empty parking lot and a big neon sign that keeps flickering. It’s obviously seen better days.

I park the car I’ve rented and walk in. The air is dry out here, cold but different from home. All around, the dark flat plains extend on and on. I go to the light like a moth to a flame, drawn into the diner, even though I wish I could be anywhere else.

Three big truckers look over at me. One narrows his eyes and gives me an up-nod. I return the gesture and look around the faux red leather booths. The white floor is scuffed up and has seen better days, but the place smells like cinnamon and coffee.

It feels warm, and despite everything, I actually like it here. The vibe is nice.

Tiff is waiting for me around the corner, a pale face sitting in a booth anxiously shifting her weight and looking around compulsively .

I’m relieved to realise I feel exactly nothing towards her. Not anger, no desire, not even affection. She’s a stranger to me now.

I sit opposite her and watch as she pushes a coffee in my direction.

“I got you a coffee just how you like it.”

I look down at it and frown. “I hate black coffee.”

“Oh!” Her face falls, and she almost wilts.

“It’s okay, I’ll drink it,” I lie.

She nods. It takes her a while to find the words, but I don’t help her. Tiff is the one who wanted me to be here. She can start talking, but I know if you rush her, she falls down mentally, and I won’t get what I need.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you or your family,” she whispers.

“I know.” And it’s true. Her self-absorption wouldn’t have extended to being worried about the consequences.

“I just loved him so much.”

“Dad said you’ve been calling him? You need to leave him alone.” I’m not rude when I say it, there’s no judgement, but it’s firm and no nonsense. This is a line in the sand that she cannot cross.

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to get you to answer the phone!” she snaps and casts her eyes down like she’s frightened of what I might do.

I never once hit her, never raised my voice, but she never felt safe around me.

Her hair is glossy brown, and her blue eyes are filled with tears. Aesthetically, she’s a beautiful woman. A stunning omega.

She’s not Ryann.

“He started calling me about a month ago.”

I laser focus on her when those words penetrate my head. “He?”

“I don’t know who he is. I don’t know anything!” she says and glances to the side.

I see a guy sitting in a booth not far away watching her. His affection for her is in every line of his body, and she keeps looking at him for reassurance. This must be the new alpha.

“He started with cussing you out. Asking me questions. Day and night, night and day. On and on. Texts, emails, phone calls, letters in the mail. He told me about Ryann, Raider, Kit, and Callan. This man would send me graphic texts about how you’re all fucking. He told me if I loved you, I’d try to save you. That they would all hurt you.”

I stare at her.

“I didn’t believe him. I thought it was some crazy fan.”

“Did you report it?”

“I rang your coach and tried. He told me to stop being a bitter ex and to let go of it. Move on.” She curls her hands into fists. “I tried. ”

“Okay.” I make a mental note to ring my old coach and find out what he knows.

She bites her lower lip and looks at the guy again. He’s immaculately dressed and a bit of a pretty boy.

“Look, I didn’t want to come here, but he said if I did this, he’d leave me alone. He said he doesn’t want you to get hurt, that you can step out now, and no one will bother you.”

I scowl.

She quickly slides an envelope across the table towards me.

“I’m sorry I’ve done what he wanted, Wren, but I’m scared. I just want to be left alone. Just be careful, whoever he is, he’s close to you.”

She gets up in a rush and gestures for the guy. The pair of them leave. I sit at the table while my coffee goes cold, staring out the window.

After a while, my alarm on my phone goes off, and I get up robotically and return to my car to make the long drive back to Greene for the game.

I open my locker and stare at the envelope I’ve stashed in there. Once upon a time, I used to feel happy when I saw envelopes and got letters. Now, my heart sinks.

This one is especially bad. I know there is something awful inside it, but I don’t want to know. Except in order to find out who this asshole is, I think I have to look.

I glance at Raider, who is nervously taping his stick. We haven’t had much sleep. I can tell by his pale face and the dark rings around his eyes that he hasn’t slept a wink either.

The trap last night failed. I can’t figure out how. But it did. It’s like he knew. Even before I fucked things up, I knew he wasn’t coming.

I finger the envelope. I should wait until we get off the ice. It feels like an ill omen to touch it, but I pull it out and rip open one end. Inside are a couple of photos.

I pull them out, and all I can see is his skin, his shoulders. Raider, my Raider, with a person who is not part of our pack.

Rage floods my body. I feel sick. No wonder she came all the way out to give these to me.

It’s happening again. He’s found someone better, just like she did. I try to crush the horrible thoughts, but they just press into me, digging deeper and deeper.

I look at the date stamp. A week ago.

I lift my eyes and stare at him. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It seems so out of character for him, but that’s Raider’s face, clear as day. When would he even have gotten the chance? This doesn’t make sense .

He doesn’t look like he’d cheat. As if he can sense my gaze, he lifts his eyes and finds me.

He waves tentatively, and I remember how we left things last night. Am I welcome back or not? I hope so. But these photos. I don’t know what to do. My head is reeling. I shove the envelope and photos back in my locker.

“Turner, someone wants to speak to you.”

The reprieve is something that I’m grateful for. I follow Wesley out of the locker room and find my old coach standing there in a suit with a broad smile.

He leads me to the room we use for interviews and takes a seat. I sit opposite him. In the back of my head, the time is ticking down until the game. I wish he would hurry up. This is not how I like game day to start. I need to speak to Raider. I need to clear this up.

“Let me cut to the chase, Turner. We want you back, and Coach Smith has agreed to the trade.”

They are trading me back?

NO!

I stare at him, reeling again. Coach Smith doesn’t want me here? What the fuck was this year all about, then? And what about Raider, Kit, and Callan? What about Ryann?

“We can offer you double what you’re on now and anything else you want. But you leave after the game. We’ll have your belongings shipped back.”

I stare at him, feeling my world crash and burn.

He’s got blue eyes, wrinkles around his chin, and jowls that wobble, but he’s a damn good alpha. A man I respect. Right now, I hate him.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just win the game, and I’ll see you at home, son. There’s a ticket waiting for you at the airport.”

I stare at him.

“We’re really glad to have you come home, Wren.”

I stand, voiceless, watching him leave. The last twenty-four hours have turned everything on its head. I feel like my world is spiraling out of control.

I need to see the pack. I need to talk to them.

“Wren!” Wesley shouts, grabbing my attention. “Get ready. They’re waiting for you!”

I swallow hard and follow him back to the locker room where I put my gear on as quickly as possible, rushing in a desperate bid to catch the alpha I’m in love with before the game.

He needs to hear it from me .

I feel sick and woozy. The images of him with that woman swirl in my head. His words slam into me, and I stop. The hurt on her face, the distrust on Kit’s. Callan’s angry accusations.

I’m not welcome.

They don’t want me.

Ryann, Callan, and Kit didn’t stop him. I’m…I should go. I should go home and leave them. They will be better off without me.

I grab my stick, feeling numb and sick. My decision is made. At the end of this game, when the final buzzer sounds, I’ll get on a plane and go home.