Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

“ S trike Two,” I crow with a smug grin at the batter. He turns and glares at me, his hands choking up on the bat until his knuckles turn white. “Oh, turn around and pay attention, you big baby.”

The goading hits the mark, and he uses his cleats to kick some dust around the plate. With a quick flick of his fingers, Owen uses the batter’s distraction to our advantage, throwing an epic fastball that slams into my mitt hard enough to sting.

“Strike Three,” I sing out, jumping up with a proud fist held high in the air. And with that out, we’re headed into the ninth inning. We’re only up by one. This game has been grueling as hell, I’m hot, sweaty, and missing my omega, but I do my best not to let it show as we head into the dugout .

Pulling my facemask off, I stand and then pat Owen on the back before going to the cooler for a sports drink. The ice encircles my hand, numbing my fingers as I search for a red. My favorite.

“This one’s closer than I thought it would be,” Crimson says, reaching to pull an orange from the same bin. Nasty. He snaps the top and drains the bottle before I’ve even found mine. I grunt in frustration, going back to my hunt. Every bottle I pull is fucking orange or blue. Not a goddamn red to be found.

What the ever-loving fuck.

“Where’s the damn red?” I roar, tossing both hands into the cooler frantically. Ice sloshes onto the ground, and more members of the team wander over to see what’s going on. But I don’t care about them . I’m so sick of wanting things I can’t have . A small voice at the back of my brain warns me to chill out, but I can’t. Orange and blue bottles go flying as I dig deeper into the ice chest, convinced I’m about to lose it.

“Hey man, chill,” Owen says, coming up and placing his hand on my back. I turn on him with a snarl, slapping his arm away and baring my teeth. My Alpha comes roaring to the surface, the frustration of the last few days bleeding over to this minor issue.

I haven’t been able to contact Posie for three days, and although her tracker shows she’s safe, she’s sent all my calls to voicemail and left all my texts unread.

Just wait until I get my hands on you, little Puff!

“What the fuck, dude?” he asks, stepping back with a shake of his head. “You’re acting like a lunatic, almost feral.”

And maybe I am. The team crowds around me, and I snap at them, but we’re all Alphas and know the feeling of being on the edge all too well. In a world where omegas aren’t easy to come by, we ride this feeling constantly—though for those of us with an unclaimed omega wandering around, it’s infinitely worse.

Damien comes out of nowhere with two red bottles, offering them to me, and it’s exactly what I need. Grabbing one, I guzzle it down, barely tasting the damn thing. Chug after chug brings me the calm I couldn’t find, and the team disperses.

“You okay?” Damien asks, thrusting out the second bottle and I grab it like a lifeline. These guys are my very best friends, but there’s no way I can tell them what’s bothering me, so the only option is to bottle it up.

“Yeah. I’m good. Just sick of being on the road, and the heat isn’t helping.” He looks at me like he wants to say more, but Owen wanders over, and Damien swallows it down, pulling his baseball hat off and tossing some ice in it before placing it back over his dark hair.

“One more inning. We’ve got this,” Owen says, bumping my shoulder when our first player goes out to bat at the top of the ninth.

“Get them,” I holler at my teammate, and he tips his hat.

Keep it together.

The cool beer in my hands is a balm to my soul as I sit at the hotel bar. With our three-game away series complete, the drink is a reward for the hard-fought games we fortunately won. Lifting the deep brown glass bottle to my lips the hoppy flavor flows over my tongue, and I can’t help but enjoy how the bubbles pop. It’s not the true flavor I’m looking for, but it has to be enough for now.

My gaze strays to my phone, and I reach down to tap the screen, but all that’s on it is another freaking notification about baseball scores. Nothing interesting. Nothing from Posie—even though I texted her right after the game.

“Hey hey,” Damien says, sliding onto the bar stool beside mine, and I quickly tuck my phone out of sight and pray he didn’t see it. Swiveling around, I look for Owen and Crimson, but they aren’t there.

“No shadows?” I ask with a smile. Those two can be a lot, and keeping my secrets from them has been harder than I ever imagined. Posie’s a constant presence in my mind, an ache I can’t forget about even when I sleep. And not being able to tell them about it sucks.

“They’ll be down soon.” He raises his hand and flags down the bartender, asking for the same drink as me. I grab a second before he motions for me to follow him to a more comfortable booth since it seems like we’re going to stay for a bit.

“Looking forward to the weekend?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Damien gives me a wolfish grin.

“Hell yeah! Thanks, by the way, for making that work. We’ve been counting down to Jazzy’s heat for the last two months,” he says, reaching down to adjust himself.

“Something going on there?” I ask, curious if the elusive Pack Moore has finally been ensnared by an omega. I’ve only met Jazzy once, but she seems like a sweet girl. She’s a fairly typical omega whose primary goal in life is to find a pack to keep her happy. Nice enough, but she’s got nothing on my Puff.

“Nah. I think Owen wants there to be, but there’s no genuine connection outside the bedroom,” he says with a shrug, disappointment sliding over his features. The guys have been dating omegas and even betas for a few years now, but none have stuck. They haven’t even brought any home to the parents. “What about you? Someone special on the horizon?”

The loaded question falls like lead, and the sensation of wearing cement shoes makes my toes curl as I muster the strength to stare him down. There’s a hint of knowledge in his eyes, devoid of anger or disapproval.

Should I fess up?

The words are on the tip of my tongue, and the urge to unburden myself is strong, but though I try to speak, it all gets caught in my throat. Concern courses through me. Can I really ask Damien to keep my secrets from his pack? No. It’s just too much.

“Nah,” I reply, fidgeting with the label on my beer bottle. I can’t meet his eyes, so I just pick at it until the sticky backing falls away from the bottle, leaving an irritating residue.

“Bullshit,” he coughs into his hand, giving me a tap with his foot under the table so I’ll look at him. “I don’t think Owen and Willie have picked up on it yet, but even Crimson’s noticed you can’t keep your eyes off her.”

“No idea who you’re talking about,” I croak, doing my best to maintain eye contact.

Don’t blink. Don’t blink .

“Yeah. You do, bud,” he says, his usually calm nutmeg scent growing spicy. “But if you want to play it that way, I’ll let you. I just want you to know I support it.”

Leaning back, I cross my arms, hyper-vigilant not to give anything away. He takes my silence as a reason to continue.

“That girl is sweet as sugar. She could use an Alpha like you to make sure the world doesn’t chew her up and spit her out. For what it’s worth, I think everyone will be thrilled to see her mated to someone they trust. Even Mama Rosa and Willie.” He takes a glug of beer before setting the bottle down with a loud thump.

“Owen would hate it…” I admit, looking around to make sure he doesn’t pop out of nowhere.

“Owen would get over it.”

“She’s seven years younger than me.”

“And probably more mature.” He grins like a Cheshire cat, knowing he’s caught me.

“She won’t return any of my calls or texts.”

“Sounds like it’s a good thing she’s stuck with you this weekend. All alone. No buffers whatsoever,” he reminds me, grin growing wider. He lifts his hand and gives a wave, so I twist to check. Sure enough, Crimson and Owen are heading our way.

“I’ll stop talking about it,” he says through gritted teeth. “But just know, I think you should go for it. I’ve got your back.”

He cuts off in the nick of time. The guys grab their own drinks and then join us: Owen with another beer and Crimson with some bright pink cocktail in a martini glass.

“What the heck is that? It’s making my eyes hurt,” Damien grumbles while Crimson uses a toothpick with pineapple on it to stir the drink .

“A passion fruit martini. Want a sip?” he asks, taking one himself. He pulls a face and coughs a few times, making everyone laugh when he sets it aside to grab Owen’s beer.

The big Alpha glowers at him before signaling to ask for another.

“Why did you even get that?” he grumbles, trying to swipe his drink back, but Crimson quickly drains it just to piss him off. “God, you’re a pest.”

“But you loveeeeeee me,” Crimson sings, causing Owen to roll his eyes toward the heavens.

“See, Miller. This is all your fault. If you had joined the pack, between the two of us, we could have gotten him under control.” He glares at me, once again bringing up the sore point. When we were younger, it was always a foregone conclusion that we would pack together.

But then I scent-matched with his sister. Even if neither of them knows it.

“That’s what Damien and Niko are for, brother,” I remind him as the server drops off another round for us all.

“Fine,” he scoffs, groaning in delight at the taste. “By the way, thanks again for staying with Posie. My parents are worried about her. Said she had a bad date or something and has been holed up in her room ever since. She’s not hurt or anything. Just grumpy—so it might be a pretty quiet weekend.”

His admission makes me see red.

A date? A bad date?

I’m not sure what makes me angrier, but no matter what, if some dickhead made my girl sad, he’s gonna be a dead dickhead real soon .

Tomorrow’s flight home can’t get here fast enough.

It’s time to claim my Puff. Forever.