Page 9 of Full Body Hit, Part 1 (Alpha Omega Hockey #5)

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve never had churros, actually.”

That started a whole new debate, Beau asking his brother to put him on speaker so he could lecture them all about how Miami had the best churros.

Sammy protested. “Pretty sure the best place to find churros is Mexico? Where they’re from?”

Noah tilted his head. “ Are they from Mexico?”

A voice from the other side of the line—presumably Beau’s teammate and mate, Emilio—added to the discourse. “Their current form originates from Spain, actually.”

Beau groaned. “You can’t google it, you nerd.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t I be able to google it?” Emilio complained.

It took them half an hour to put the order in, Beau and Emilio going off to get some food themselves with a, “Well, now I’m hungry.”

Chase felt a twinge of guilt when all the food arrived and was crammed on the coffee table. Noah jumped on it like an animal, and even Sammy, as delicately as he ate, got through an impressive amount.

It was all too good to waste. No one was there to sneer at what he was consuming.

Sure, it was a little heavy, but it was nourishing too.

And even if it wasn’t, it felt good to just eat something because it tasted good.

Because he was worth that experience, of chomping into quesadillas and chips and, finally, the much talked about churros.

“Wow,” Chase said after the first bite. “Yeah, okay. I get it now.”

“It’s so good,” Noah enthused through a mouthful, pieces of churro spraying everywhere.

“ Ew. Gross, Noah,” Sammy admonished, hunching over his own dessert to protect it from Noah’s mouth missiles.

“Sorry,” Noah said, still without swallowing.

Sammy made a moue of disgust, sharing a look with Chase as if to say, ‘Alphas.’

Noah returned to his game after they were finished, whining at his brother over the phone until he detached from Emilio and joined him again.

Sammy rolled his eyes, fondness clear in his expression, but grabbed Chase and flounced off to his room.

Chase paused in the doorway, taking it all in. He’d never been there before, having always stayed in the living room or kitchen, and was instantly stunned by the space in front of him.

He’d never seen anything so… Omega.

A massive, round bed dominated the room, sheer curtains falling around it. It was packed with nesting materials, blankets dripping off the sides, big cushions cradling the edge of the mattress.

There was a vanity, and a green velvet couch, and a fluffy rug. There were pictures on the walls in pastel colours.

It even smelt good, of some flowery fragrance that probably complimented Sammy’s scent.

“Wow. This is…nice,” Chase stammered.

“I know, right? Here, sit.”

They settled on the couch, which, although a short width, was extended in length enough that they could stretch their legs a little.

Sammy handed him a blanket despite the mellow temperature. The material was stunningly soft, though, and Chase couldn’t help but run his hands through it, absolutely amazed that anything could feel like that.

His own nests had always been made of things on hand—old sheets and towels and clothes. He’d never, ever bought something because it felt soft to the touch.

“This is really nice,” Chase mumbled, suddenly burning up a little, cheeks hot. Sammy had perfected being an Omega. He was comfortable in his skin. Bought things just because they were pretty. Had a nest that a king would envy.

Chase, on the other hand, was half-broken and practically out of commission when it came to his designation.

“Thanks,” Sammy chirruped. “I can send you the link to the place I got it from. It has really nice stuff.”

“Oh, no,” Chase said automatically. He bit his lip. “I mean…sure, yeah. I’ll check it out.” It wasn’t a big deal if he looked. It wasn’t like he was going to get anything.

Sammy grabbed his phone and sent him the link then and there.

Chase’s smile wobbled. “Thanks.”

“No prob. How’s your apartment? You settling in good?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s fine. Not as nice as this.”

Sammy sat up a little, eyes wide. “Do you want me to help you decorate?”

“Oh…” Chase imagined what it would be like to have his apartment decked out like the room they were in—everything soft and cuddly and pastel-coloured.

Instantly, the image of his mom’s face was superimposed over the picture.

What she’d say if she visited—how disgusted she’d be.

“I don’t know. Like, I really like this, but I’m not sure it’s my style. ”

Sammy waved him off. “Dude, we don’t have to make it like this . We can totally do it up in your style.”

His style? Chase couldn’t even begin to guess at what that would be. “I dunno…maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“No, we have to. I absolutely will not accept you having one of those depressing pads with like a couch, a TV, and nothing else.”

“Well, I also have a bed.”

Sammy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, mouth pulled down sarcastically.

“Yeah, okay. But I can veto anything.”

Sammy clapped his hands together. “Okay. But then so can I.”

“Umm…it’s my place?”

“Yeah, but I’m not having my fellow Omega live in a shitpad. You want the next Alpha you invite over to be like, what the fuck is this? Or, sorry, Omega, if that’s your thing.”

He fucking wished he were into Omegas. That way, he could pretend to be the Alpha in the relationship.

That was how it worked…right?

“I’m into Alphas. But I feel like that’s not gonna be a problem, jeez.”

“Why?” Sammy scoffed. “You’re like, gorgeous.”

Stupidly, Chase felt himself flush. He knew he was good-looking; it was just strangely embarrassing to hear it said so earnestly for a reason other than getting in his pants.

People didn’t compliment him unless they wanted something from him.

“Whatever,” Chase mumbled. “I’m tired of the whole one-night-stand thing.”

“So don’t do it? You know Alphas are for more than fucking just once, right?” A little smirk hovered over Sammy’s lips.

“Yeah, I’m just not sure they know the opposite is true.”

“ Oof . Okay. Well, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong kind of Alpha, let me tell you.”

Chase shook his head. His chest hurt, an ache that was bone-deep. “Nah. I just…” Fuck . He seriously had meant to never tell anyone about his condition—not on the team, anyway.

But there he was, the secret on the tip of his tongue as soon as he made a friend.

Sammy wouldn’t tell anyone, though, right? Not even Noah, if Chase made him promise.

“Look…it’s a little complicated. I have this thing , but if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.” He met Sammy’s gaze head-on. “Seriously. I’ve never told anybody this.”

Sammy sobered up immediately. He got up, hurrying to his bedroom door and closing it before returning to the couch. “My lips are sealed, I swear on the Stanley Cup.” He stuck his pinky out, eyebrows tilted down, mouth flat.

Fireflies raced in Chase’s stomach, filling him up with light. He locked his pinky with Sammy, squeezing securely and then letting go.

“Okay, so…I have this condition. I was put on some bad medication when I was a teenager and it kind of fucked my presentation up? This isn’t actually how I smell. My real scent is locked away, and I can’t smell anyone else, either.”

Sammy’s eyes got big and round. “Oh, my God. You can’t smell pheromones?”

“Nope. Can’t release them, either.”

“Why? Like, do you not produce them?”

“The opposite, actually. I produce so many that it’d put me in danger with Alphas, and just…I wouldn’t be able to be in public without people being overwhelmed. Same for me. People’s scents are just…they make me throw up.”

“Holy shit,” Sammy whispered. He grabbed one of Chase’s hands, skin soft, hold gentle. “I’m so sorry.”

Chase shrugged, swallowing around whatever dumb thing was suddenly in his throat. “I mean, it’s whatever. Who wants to scent a bunch of stinky Alphas, anyway?”

Sammy didn’t join in on the joke. His face remained pained, eyes piercing into Chase, not letting him get away with just brushing it off.

It dawned on Chase that he’d never had someone be sad for what had happened.

His mom had insisted on moving on and, apart from that first doctor, who had seemed more angry than anything else, all the other medical practitioners had been matter-of-fact about his condition, focusing on the symptoms and treatment.

No one had mourned his loss.

Chase hadn’t been aware that he could mourn, too.

Chase cleared his throat desperately. He was absolutely not going to cry about something that happened years ago. “Anyway. As you can imagine, Alphas eventually figure out there’s something wrong with my scent, you know? So they dump me.”

“Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry, Chase.”

“It’s whatever. I—” His voice cut off.

Fuck, this was so stupid. He pressed the fingers of one hand over his eyes, the other one still clasped in Sammy’s.

“Sorry,” Chase choked out. “I don’t even know why I’m getting upset. It was ages ago.”

“Hey…” Sammy whispered.

Chase felt his hair being brushed back, and then Sammy was drawing him near.

They tilted onto the couch until they were lying down, Sammy laying the blanket over both of them as he drew Chase in.

Chase pressed against Sammy’s front. His eyes were wet, mouth pasty, but he wasn’t crying.

He definitely wasn’t crying. Because that would be dumb.

“It’s okay,” Sammy promised. He wrapped around Chase, holding him close, hand threading through his hair.

Something shaky and unstable and taped-together inside of Chase collapsed, reverberating through him. He let out a burst of wet breath, letting himself be hugged like he hadn’t in so long, body swept away in the shining tide of it.

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t have a scent. That Alphas didn’t want him. That his first year in the league was turning out so shitty. That he felt small enough to disappear.

Even his idol saw through the bravado and found something worthless underneath.

He was shaking with the force of not letting himself break completely, pushing down the sobs that wanted to bubble up.