Page 29

Maya

Once again, we’re down to the last few minutes, still tied at zero. My heart’s in my throat, watching the other team attack each and every play we have. It’s like they’re reading us before it even happens but I’m not giving up.

“Riley, press high!” I yell, and Holt flashes a pivot for Tanner. Every now and then, Roman skates up to the glass, his eyes locking on mine, his hands pressing flat, a silent check-in. I smile up at him and place my hands on the other side as he bows his forehead to the glass, then skates off. A quick glance back at Brogan tells me that he’ll be okay, maybe a bit bruised but he’ll survive, his gaze trained on our team. Turning to Holt, I gesture toward Dakota. “How is he holding up?”

“Surprisingly well, with the amount of scent and heat blockers he’s doped up on. I looked up the rule books—since Omegas rarely play this sport, there’s nothing against it. Though that might change at some point.”

The game surges, everyone on the edge of their seats as Riley snaps a goal, the Northvale fans cheering at our first goal. I turn, high-fiving the bench players, the energy surging through the stadium. Holt squeezes my shoulder, reminding me that I’m in charge, that my few murmurs of ideas aren’t there waiting for permission but waiting for me to unleash them. I take a split second to decide before sending out the second line. The other team has been watching the first line the entire game. They won’t have a chance to figure out these newer players.

The first line skates back, most of them confused.

“What’s going on?” Tanner asks, catching his breath as he plops down onto the bench.

“They’re used to you but we’ve got a whole handful of other players with different styles, and they’re gonna run that one play from practice.” I tap my shoulder, the second line’s faces lighting up, nods and grins spreading. The confidence they have in me is everything as they move into formation, Logan leading as I check back on Brogan once more.

Roman and Dakota flank him on either side, Roman leaning over to squeeze Brogan’s thigh as the Beta relaxes between them. There’s something growing between them and I’m excited to watch it bloom, however it grows. Turning my attention back to the ice, I watch as our players enforce a play I made with my father, a play that worked in practice, and one I’m hoping gets us a win here.

The game pushes on, Logan darting, the second line fluid, their play unfolding like we drilled in practice. I shout, “Logan, now!” and Holt signs a screen just as Logan fires, sending the puck sailing. It feels like an eternity, my breath caught in my throat as I watch it cross the ice and then… it’s in! A goal as the buzzer screams, the crowd erupting, a wave of sound that lifts through the stadium.

Holt pulls me into his chest, firmly kissing my lips. “First of many, Maya. Damn, I can’t wait to see where we go from here.”

The team voted on where to go to dinner and I’m glad it wasn’t sloppy joes because my stomach has been doing too many turns and flips to digest that. The burger joint just down the street was the preferable choice, a chaotic hum of laughter, clinking bottles, and the sizzle of grease. I’m squished in one of the back booths, the team sprawled around me, passing beers, sandwiches, and greasy fries. Our first win with me as coach is still buzzing through my head, the excitement of the night waning a little as I focus on Brogan at my side.

I tried to persuade him to head back to the dorms, but he wasn’t having it, his grin stubborn as he told me, “We celebrate as a team, coach.” And here we are, Northvale’s players, campus friends, all crammed together, my heart fuller than it has been in years.

Not one person has mentioned my scar, dwelled on it, laughed at it— nothing. It’s… freeing, like I’m finally Maya again, not just a piece of the woman I used to be. Holt bumbles up to the edge of the booth, a little tipsy from what I can tell. “Congratulations, Coach,” he murmurs before dragging me into a kiss. The team hollers, someone yelling K-I-S-S-I-N-G, laughter bubbling up when he pulls back. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m really fucking happy but if you don’t let me out, I might piss all over the seat and as far as I know, that’s not anyone’s thing .” He snorts but lets me through, squeezing my ass as I pass him.

I weave through the crowd, eager for a moment of silence that doesn’t include all of the chaos. Just a moment where I can breathe, telling myself that I’ve earned all of this. The bathroom’s empty as I find a stall, do my business and then step out to wash my hands, Nox staring at me through one of the mirrors. His eyes are dark, predatory with an expression I’ve never seen, my heart lurching into my throat. We’re not on campus so there’s nothing saying he can’t be here but he knows I want nothing to do with him.

He reaches for me but I skid back into the stall and lock the door, grateful that it’s one of those luxury doors that extend from floor to ceiling.

“I just need to talk,” he pushes out, trying to make his voice sound smoother than it is. But it’s a lie, always a lie, and I’m not falling for it.

“We’re way past that, you fucker,” I snap. “I didn’t want to talk then, not last week, not this week, but you keep insisting. You need your money to pay off a deal gone wrong or debts or something, but I’m not coming back to you.” My fingers tremble as I search my pockets for my phone, tears forming in my eyes at the thought that I might have left it on the table. Fuck!

“Come on, baby,” he coos, footsteps drawing closer before his hand slams against the stall door. “Now, why would you go and lock this?”

He’s jiggling the handles as I dive into every pocket, sighing with relief when it clatters out of my bra and onto the floor. I swipe it up, dialing the last number— Roman —hoping that he’ll answer. It rings, rings, and—nothing, no answer. I send a text:

Nox bathroom help

My vision blurs as Nox slams on the door again, my focus shot as I try to find another number to call but my mind blanks and the only thing I can think of is 911. “Please help me,” I whisper. They’re asking questions but I’m too terrified to answer them as Nox’s foot slams the door, the lock rattling in protest.

I curl up by the toilet, staring at the door and hoping it will hold as I place my hands over my ears, memories of Nox taking what wasn’t his running through my mind. I won’t let him take anything from me anymore but this moment is still terrifying, Nox trying to force me into something I don’t want and he can’t have.

A low, feral growl erupts through the bathroom, echoing across the tiles and then someone’s back is slammed against the wall, Nox letting out a grunt of pain. I sag against the wall in relief, realizing that Roman got my text but I also know that he’s at the edge of his rope from that game.

“Don’t hit him!” I yell, knowing that Nox will twist this shit into something else and Roman will be punished for it.

“Are you okay?” Roman calls out, obviously fighting his instincts.

“I’m fine,” my voice barely over a whisper, “I just want him gone.” There’s commotion, a lot of footsteps, the door opening and closing, a police officer, I think and then silence before Roman’s voice cuts through.

“The police got him, princess. Open up, Maya.” I can’t find the energy to move, still staring at the door, Roman’s shadow filtering through the wooden shades. I know it’s him but for some reason I can’t connect that with what I’m seeing. “Babe, come on, you can’t stay in there.” His purr starts up, instantly calming my nerves enough for me to crawl forward and unlock the door.

He’s there in the next second, pulling me up into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around my back. Tears spill down my cheeks as I tuck my face into him, the sudden presence of all my mates crowding around me. No one says anything for several minutes but the weight is pressing on my chest that yet again my past caught up with me. “Sorry for ruining the celebration,” I mumble, shame creeping in, because—fuck, I did, didn’t I?

Roman pulls back, his hands framing my face. “Yeah, no, you’re not responsible for him. I’m taking you back to the dorms and I’m gonna hold you, alright? All I want you do is breathe. Keep breathing for me. Just like that.” Every one of his words is a promise that I hold close to me, my breathing evening out as his purr grows louder, the fear seeping away as I calm.

I don’t really remember getting back to the dorms, the blur of Roman’s arm around me. But I’m here now, firmly tucked in Roman’s bed, his citrus scent wrapping me like a shield. It strengthens every time he purrs, his arm heavy over my waist, keeping me from disappearing into my head. On my other side, Brogan’s stretched out, my head pressed to his heart, listening to its rhythm, making sure he’s okay.

I argued with Holt, insisted Brogan stay with us, not alone in his room, even when Holt said he’d monitor him. I wasn’t having it, needing all of them in my space, my nerves frayed and my rationale shot with Nox’s burnt scent hovering around me. My body is still trembling between them, no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m fine, that he didn’t get whatever he was looking for. “I just can’t win with this damn man.”

I thought I’d be more terrified but I’m strung out and pissed off that Nox won’t listen and now he’s creeping into my new life where he doesn’t belong. My gaze trails the room, catching Dakota in the armchair, curled up in a pile of blankets so obscene it’s almost funny, soft snores peeling from his lips.

My mind is still whirring, running a thousand miles per hour, only stopping when Holt steps into the room and slowly closes the door behind him. “Hey gorgeous.” A smile spreads across his face as he drops to sit on the bed across from us. “They’re holding Nox but on other charges, possibly to deal with all that art stuff. All I know is that he isn’t getting out tonight.”

He’s trying to give me some hope to hang onto but he’s always one step ahead of me. “It won’t stick. He has connections.”

“This isn’t his city, so maybe we’ll have some luck. But I’d suggest an order of protection. If he violates it, he’s looking at real jail time.” He drags a hand down his face, his expression hardening. “He’s gotta be fucking desperate to corner you like that.”

Brogan chuckles, a low rumble that runs through my chest. “What the fuck is it with bathrooms?” he mutters, the teasing aspect to his voice making me smile.

“Because he’s a piece of shit,” Roman adds, all of us falling into soft laughter that has the edges of my emotions softening.

Holt stands and leans over Brogan to press a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second. “Just rest. I’ll see what else I can find out.” Then he rounds the bed to gather Dakota up against his chest and drags him to the bed, Dakota grumbling the entire time. It’s both adorable and alarming that a six foot goalie is grumbling about being woken up, something about his nest being destroyed but it’s exactly what I need to relax.

Maybe squished between these men, the nightmares will stay away.