Page 32

I’m slammed up against the glass, Daniels’ smug face staring back at me.

“Better get your head in the game, Sorensen, or Coach is going to rip you a new one.” I curse, trying to push him off me, but his hand lands on my shoulder right as his grin falls. “Look, for what it’s worth, I know exactly what you’re going through, but you gotta get your shit together. Things will work out, man. Have faith.”

He releases me then skates off like he didn’t just drop one of his Nash bombs right in my face. Dude’s a giant dickhead, but he has these moments of genuine good guy that throw you right the hell off. It’s a mindfuck every time.

Shaking my head, I skate over to the bench. Flint’s already there, looking about as miserable as I feel. It’s been two months since we’ve seen or talked to Elliott. Each of us has put together a care package to send to her with the hope that it would help her remember she’s got people that are thinking about her, that care for her, and that miss her. I have no idea if it’s working, but it’s better than nothing, I suppose.

I stupidly thought that with training camp in full swing, I’d have something to distract me from the gaping hole in my life. Unfortunately, it’s not fucking working. When we’re not at the rink, we’ve all pretty much glued ourselves to our home gym because the quiet is just too intense. Too lonely.

“He giving you shit?” Flint asks, nodding toward Daniels.

“No. Pretty sure he just gave me a pep talk…in his own special way, of course.”

Flint grins. “Dude’s a likable asshole, that’s for sure.”

“He’s not wrong, though. We’re playing like shit. I’ll be in the middle of a play, but then my mind zings back to Elliott and that’s all it takes to throw me off my game. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“When you figure it out, let me know, okay?” Flint murmurs, staring out at the ice.

Fuck. We’ve got it bad.

“You hear from Sy yet?”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders starting to ease at the mention of the Beta. “He finally got approval to work remotely. With the success the column’s been receiving, the Asshat ran out of excuses to keep denying him. He’ll be here this weekend.”

Part of me is thankful that my brother will have a little piece of normalcy back in his life. Maybe it will help draw him out of the black hole he’s been in since we returned. The other part, though? He’s jealous as fuck.

“Good. We can run by the store after practice and pick up some of the stuff you wanted to get.”

“That would be great. I’m excited to surprise him with the new office set-up. He’s not expecting that, but I think it will be good in the long run depending on how things play out, ya know?”

The thought of a future we’re too scared to hope for lingers in the periphery of my thoughts. One where the Beta is a part of our pack, and our Omega is right where she belongs.

I clear my throat, desperation and hopelessness suddenly swamping me. “He get any updates on Elliott’s progress at the center?”

Flint shakes his head. “She keeps her replies strictly professional. She won’t respond to any of the personal stuff he adds in, but that doesn’t stop him. West and Cadence got one update about a month ago, telling them that everything was going well, but that’s all. Radio silence on their end too. They won’t admit it, but I think they’re worried as well. I keep telling myself that she needs this space to get better, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s just building up more walls to keep us out, even unintentionally.”

He just voiced my biggest fear. Actually, make that my second biggest. Walls can be torn down, I remind myself. We’ve done it once, and we can do it again.

My voice is nearly a whisper when I say, “Or maybe when she’s got a handle on the trauma, she’ll realize she doesn’t need us after all.”

Now, that is something no amount of willpower or patience will fix. What will we do if she simply moves on? How will we ever be able to let her go when she’s the one that’s always had a hold on us?

“You both look fucking miserable,” Barrett says, stepping into the bench.

My glare speaks volumes. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t here less than six months ago, jackass.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I recognize the signs so easily?”

Flint runs his gloved hand over his messy hair. “It’s killing us, man.”

“Your game too,” he quips, shooting a look out at the rink as the sound of approaching skates hits our ears. “This one’s not any better, unfortunately. That means half the starting lineup is useless. We’ve got to figure out a way to fix this.”

Nixon’s bulky form appears on the other side of the board, glowering at our newest coach. “Yeah. Like it’s that fucking easy.”

“Seriously, guys, I know this is hard, but you’ve gotta pull your heads out of your asses and focus on the game. We’ve got a few weeks until the start of the season, and as things sit right now, this team isn’t anywhere close to championship material. We need you three out there giving your best every practice.”

Nixon releases a harsh breath. “Any suggestions, Coach? Because at this point, we’ve tried everything we can think of, but none of it’s working. We’re all out here living with our heart outside our chest, and it’s fucking painful, man.”

“What would Elliott say if she saw you like this?” he asks, his tone low enough that no one else can overhear him.

I smile, thinking of my feisty honey bear. “She’d be busting our balls for playing like a bunch of rookies.”

Flint's lips curve up in something as close to a grin as he can manage. “I can picture her with her hand on her hip, green eyes sparkling with frustration as she lays into us for not focusing on the one thing we’re paid to do.”

“She’d threaten a moratorium on sex if we didn’t get our shit together.” Nixon shakes his head. “Fuck, I miss her.”

“Then use that. When you’re out there on the ice, ask yourself what Elliott would say. Hear her voice when you find yourself getting too far inside your head. Regardless of what happens, she’d want you all to continue to be the strong, powerful, successful men you’ve always been. She wouldn’t want you to throw that all away.”

He’s right. If she could see us right now, she’d be fucking ashamed at what we’ve let ourselves become—shells of the men she took a chance on and got close to. If we have any hope of getting her back, we need to remember who we are and how much we love her. Nothing else matters. We’ll sure as hell get through this. We have to.