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Gwen

“ D o you want to know what I think?” Tony perched on the end of the exam bed at the hospital. There were shadows of stubble on his weathered face. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, not the nice pants with a rink polo I usually saw him in.

“I’m not taking him back. But I have no idea how I’m going to live or get through my last year,” I sobbed. “I still don’t understand how he could hurt me, say such cruel things.”

Apparently, I’d been found passed out on the ice and brought here. The doctor had stitched up the cut, the police had taken pictures and a statement, and we were now waiting on the results of my scans.

“You got a shit deal, and I’m so sorry. You’ve spent years supporting that knothead, and his education, and his dream. It’s time to focus on you. Your goals, your education, your dreams. Contact your university coach and the financial aid office and see how they can help you. Go live in the dorms. Have a year to be a student and not work so many jobs, so you can focus on what’s important.” He took a sip of coffee as the hospital bustled around us on the other side of the curtain.

“How can I live without all my jobs?” I gave him a skeptical look. All this made my head ache more than it already did.

“Take out a loan. I know you don’t want to, but a little debt so you can breathe might be exactly what you need. All your jobs take away from hockey and class–you’re too tired to always do your best,” he told me. “That could cost you everything if you still plan on going pro after graduation . ”

“Ouch.” It was true. I’d found out the hard way when I started at NYIT that I couldn’t work as much as I had before. During collegiate playoffs, Tony forced me to not work at the rink, and I’d taken off from Tito’s due to scheduling. I’d felt so much better on the ice with only having class and practice. But you needed money to live.

“If you honestly and truly want to play professional hockey next year, you have to get noticed. I know you’re used to keeping your head down, but you need to stop that. Sometimes in this business, being good isn’t enough. As you know, teams will choose the giant alpha with a lower save rate because they don’t know better. So you have to make them look, ” he told me. “Make them reconsider, make them regret .”

“True.” I knew this. Well. I’d spent the past year proving to NYIT that I deserved my spot. Something that would be easier to do if I wasn’t so tired all of the time.

Plenty of betas played goalie. There were even omega goalies. The Knights had both. But their omega goalie was also well over six feet, and even most beta goalies were on the tall side for their designation.

However, I was afraid that making them look would get me noticed in all the wrong ways.

“Do you think I have what it takes? After all, Austin didn’t.” My voice trembled. Being a PHL goalie had been my dream since my nonna and her neighbors had taken me to my very first game when I was tiny.

“Austin’s an ass who can’t take feedback.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure he could make it in the PHL. You, however, if you’re not tired and prioritize, focus, and sparkle on the ice, could be the next Maria Barilla.” He grinned, knowing I admired her.

“That’s the dream.” I grinned back. She’d been a legendary goalie for the Knights, still holding the record for shutout games all these years later. Maria was also the first beta goalie in the PHL.

“Also, practicing isn't enough. You have to network and build relationships,” he told me.

“True. It might be nice to live in the dorms, or my own little place.” This whole thing hinged on me qualifying for a loan or somehow getting major financial aid. Because I couldn’t afford rent for my own place, let alone a security deposit and the tuition payments I still had left.

Tony nodded. “That might be good for you. Figure out who you are without Austin. It’s been you and him for so long that he’s become part of your identity. There’s so much more to you, out there for you. Take some time to figure that out.”

The words rubbed my soul raw. Who was I without Austin? I mean, I was someone without him. But I had zero experience being that woman.

Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled my knees to my chest, careful of the bruises on my ribs, neck, and face. “I thought he loved me.”

“You’re allowed to feel hurt, to be angry. It’s shitty what he did. I’m not going to let you wallow though, because then that fucker wins,” he told me.

“We don’t let the assholes win. Double D says that.” I bit back a smile.

“He’s a smart man, and a good goalie. Not as good as Maria Barilla, though.” He chuckled. “The best revenge is to thrive. Show Austin you don’t need him. Just wait until you get signed by a PHL team.”

“Okay. I could hop on a group chat, check some housing boards, maybe ask around the rink.” I nodded. We didn’t have to give much notice for our place, thank goodness. I couldn’t afford rent on two places, anyways, and I wouldn’t want Austin to be stuck.

“Yes, ask around. If you need someplace for a couple of days while you get things sorted, my daughter is at camp. You can always put your things in a storeroom at the rink. You should get your things sooner rather than later, so he doesn’t do anything to it,” he offered.

“True–and thank you.” I rubbed my head.

“It might take a little time, but you’ll get this figured out. After all, you were the fixer in your relationship. You know how to make things work. Unlike him.” He snorted. “Here’s your phone and stuff. Oh, call Clark. He was upset to find you passed out and bleeding on the ice.” Tony handed me my bag.

“ Clark found me?” I blinked. “I thought you did.”

“He found you, got the rink night manager, who then called me. He rode with you in the ambulance, which someone had already called. I made him go home as soon as I got here. I said you’d call,” he told me.

“Oh.” I sat up and looked at all the messages and missed calls on my phone. Clark had come to the rink. He’d found me.

“Why did you lie down on the ice? ” Tony made a face.

“I enjoy lying down on the ice.” It was comforting.

“Hey, you can’t go back there,” a nurse said to someone.

“Don’t worry. Mariquita is my sister,” a familiar voice said. Mariquita was Spanish for Ladybug, which was the nickname the Knights had given me, since I was an EBUG–an emergency backup goalie – and a woman.

Hockey players were so silly sometimes.

Carlos Rodriguez, winger for the Knights, came in, wearing a Knights shirt, workout shorts, and flip-flops, his hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed… with someone. Which might explain the do not disturb on his phone.

He’d grown up here and had gone to the same community college I had. We’d played together my first year there. Then he’d gotten signed and spent a year with the Bantams, the Knights’ farm team, before becoming a Knight.

With him was Dimitri Belikov, a defender, who, like Carlos, was going into his third year with the Knights. He’d played for Russia first. The Russian alpha was about the same height as Clark, but broader. His dark hair was slicked back, and he looked put together–and a little threatening–even in jeans, a T-shirt, and loafers.

Clark followed, wearing a green shirt advertising his parent’s tractor repair company, some workout shorts, and Defender League slip-ons, he also had a sweatshirt tied around his waist. He clutched a paper sack.

He rushed over to me, concern brimming in his big brown eyes as his black-rimmed glasses slipped down his nose. “Hey, how are you? Your clothes are covered in blood.”

“I told you she’d call .” Tony gave them a hard look.

Clark held up the sack, unbothered. “Breakfast delivery. Also, I needed to make sure she was all right.” His hand brushed my pink hair out of my face, so he could see the gash. “That looks nasty. Not as bad as when I found you, but still.”

He’d brought me food? Clark was always thoughtful, which Austin saw as a threat.

“Why did you go to the rink if you were hurt, Bozh’ya Korovka?” Dimitri rumbled, using the Russian word for ladybug . He’d semi-adopted me since he was raising his teen siblings.

“I was going to use the first aid kit and get my head together while I found someplace to crash. Maybe hit some pucks and pretend they were Austin’s face,” I replied. “But… I’m glad you came, Clark.”

I’d texted Clark for safety, not because I’d expected him to find me.

Tony stood. “I’m going to find the doctor and see when you can leave.”

“Of course.” Clark’s brows furrowed. “I came straight to the rink when you didn’t answer my calls.”

Oh. A phone had been ringing. I looked away. “I was afraid it would be him. Thank you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Clark told me, taking the hoodie from around his waist and throwing it at me. “Oh, here’s a clean sweatshirt. I have a washer at my place and we can wash yours.”

“I’m going to kick his sorry ass.” Carlos eyed my other injuries. The tan, dark-haired kappa wasn’t as tall as the other two, and more compact. However, he was taller than me. Also, fast and a daredevil on the ice.

Kappas were crazy fuckers. Literally, they were a designation of fun-loving adrenaline junkies with questionable judgment. There weren’t too many of them.

“I kneed Austin in the balls,” I admitted. He’d deserved it.

“That-a-girl.” Clark grinned, revealing dimples.

He sat down on the foot of the bed, his brows knitting together as worry filled his scent, which was reminiscent of hay on a hot summer's day.

“Tell me what happened? All I know is you texted me that you two broke up and when I found you, you were bleeding. ” Clark’s brow furrowed, and his scent soured.

I took a bite of the breakfast sandwich, letting the tastes and textures explode over my tongue. So good.

As I ate, I told them what had happened. Normally I wouldn’t get this personal with them, but I was still struggling to process everything. Not to mention questioning myself. Was this my fault? Could I have done something different, better?

How could I have trusted Austin for so many years?

“I did the right thing, didn’t I?” I scrunched up the wrapper, wishing it was Austin’s face.

Clark’s arm wrapped around me, Carlos by my side. Dimitri looked like he wanted to punch someone.

“Yes. He doesn’t get to hurt you. You were right to leave him. He turned out to be a fucking asshole,” Clark assured.

“Real alphas don’t hurt people. None of this is your fault,” Dimitri added.

“It was shitty of him to take advantage of you and to lie to you,” Carlos told me.

“I understand his lies and I understand wanting to make it on your own. But I can’t wrap my head around how quickly it escalated.” I sniffed. It was too much. Though their words made me feel better. None of this is your fault.

“Where are you going to stay for now? I have a spare room if you need it. I’m going to be gone most of the off-season, anyway. Because I have to go back and forth for stuff, I kept my place,” Clark offered.

“Thanks. I think I’ll stay at Tony’s for a few days, then check with my teammates, see who might need a summer roommate.” Like I could afford rent wherever Clark lived. It was kind of him to offer though. “Will you come with me to get my stuff?”

“Of course. That’s why I brought them.” Clark grinned. “I can’t promise I won’t punch him.”

“I’ve been wanting to take a swing at him since he got mad at you at the holiday party for giving Clark a present,” Carlos replied, punching one hand with the other.

“You heard that?” I winced. It wasn’t like I’d gotten Clark some extravagant or inappropriate gift. I’d drawn Clark’s name in the team holiday gift exchange .

“I heard him at Dimitri’s party accusing you of flirting with Dimitri. Last time I checked, thanks for inviting us, is your sister here? isn’t flirting,” Clark told me.

My belly twisted. “The stress of the last year made him a little insecure. He’s usually not like that.”

Carlos gave me a look like he didn’t believe me. He’d known me the longest, and by extension, Austin, since I’d bring him to things.

“When he snapped at you at Mercy’s birthday party for not spending enough time with him, he was stressed about finals even though graduation had already happened?” Dimitri’s eyebrows rose.

My head bowed as self-loathing consumed me. “How did I miss all this?”

Clark tipped up my chin, his touch gentle. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’ll be okay.”

I hoped so. Right now, I felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest.

“This is where you live?” Dimitri’s voice went rumbly as we approached my building.

It was still early. I might even make it to work on time. Tony had told me to take the day off, and he’d let the camp know.

But if I didn’t work, I didn’t get paid.

“We can’t all live in adorable townhouses,” I shrugged. His place was cute, mostly decorated by his sister. She was nice and attended one of the omega academies here in the city. Sometimes we got together for pedicures.

“It’s kinda far from your campus.” Carlos frowned.

“It’s not that far from UNYC.” I shrugged. We walked down the hallway and I shuddered.

Clark put an arm around me. “It’ll be okay, Gweny.”

Mrs. Jenkins’ door flew open. She scowled at my stitched-up forehead. “Please tell me you’re not going back to him.”

“We’re here to get her stuff.” Clark pushed his black glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Good. Do you want the video for the police report? You filed one, right? I called them, too,” she told me. Today’s marabou feather robe was blue.

Video?

“Your door cam caught part of it,” I breathed. “Yes, please.”

I’d filed a report. While the police had clucked sympathetically, at this point there wasn’t much they could do other than the standard things. The more information I had, the more they might be able to do. Especially if he didn’t leave me alone and I needed more than the basic restraining order that was automatic with these sorts of alpha-on-beta domestic violence cases. Every bit would help.

“Good.” She held out her phone.

I held out mine, and she sent it to me, then slammed the door.

“Austin, I’m coming in to get my stuff. I’m not alone.” I unlocked the door and opened it, looking around.

All the boxes in the living room were gone. The table he’d knocked over had been righted. The posters were off the walls.

“I think his stuff is gone,” I breathed, noting what was missing from the kitchen. “We got the place furnished.”

“Makes things easier. Can you afford rent here on your own? I mean, I know you may not want to stay, but it might give you time,” Clark said.

“I could do it for a few weeks, but that’s it.” It would give me a moment to develop a plan. I’d be asking the landlord if Austin’s share could come out of his half of the deposit. It would be hard to live here, but better than imposing.

“Good idea,” Carlos told me.

I opened the bedroom door and sucked in a breath. Shredded clothes were strewn everywhere. Makeup smeared the walls. My laptop, which I’d gotten at Christmas, sat smashed into tiny pieces. My books were torn up–including my favorite series from when I was a teenager and one of the few things I’d brought from home when I’d fled. Posters had been ripped off my wall.

Every memento was ruined, each stuffie decapitated. All my good hockey stuff, versus what was in my locker at the rink, was destroyed. Beta whore marked up my custom goalie mask that he’d bought me when I’d gotten into NYIT. He’d even broken my stick into pieces. Someone destroyed the custom goalie pads he'd bought me for my birthday.

My jewelry box had been upturned, everything stepped on. All my spices that I’d gotten little by little, mostly from the campus needs pantry, were dumped on the carpet.

“Shit,” Clark muttered, looking around at the devastation.

A small box on the dresser caught my eye, in a pile of confetti that was the few hockey cards I hadn’t sold because they weren’t worth anything. It was the ring box I’d found with his clothes. Inside was a piece of paper with the words it wasn’t for you scrawled in his messy handwriting.

I’d never take him back. But the words were still daggers in my heart.

The only picture I had of my mom was cut into pieces inside it. Tears pricked my eyes. How could he be that cruel?

Clutching the box, I fell to my knees on the spice-filled carpet and began to cry.