Page 37 of Pucking the Enemy

A driver? Between that and the fact that she resided at Dallas House, clearly she came from significant wealth.

None of that mattered. I was also from significant wealth, and I didn’t give a flying fuck if my omega had money or not.

“Can we at least get your number?”

Hazel nodded. “Give me your phone.” I handed my phone over to her without question, all the while silently praying to myself that no messages would pop up from any old flings. I hadn’t actually had sex with anyone since Hazel, but knowing how shitty my luck could be, one of them would probably message something filthy right as Hazel was typing her number in.

“There, you’ve got my number,” she said, handing my phone back.

“Thank you.” I beamed at her, looking down at my phone. Clicking on the contact, I added her to the pack group chat.

Cormac noticed the notification pop up on his phone, and he wore a shit-eating grin.

Phillip quickly returned to the counter, grabbing two different baked goods for Hazel to take with her. She said he didn’t need to do that, but he insisted he wanted to, so she took them with a shy smile and a thank you.

Seeing the shy side of Hazel was an odd experience. The Hazel I’d met had been bold and had gone after what she wanted.

Then again, the rampant heat hormones had probably been propelling her, not that I was complaining.

I would simply have to make her confident enough to show that side of herself again.

The challenge was a welcome one.

Chapter 13

Seb

The banging of the puck hitting the barriers reverberated around the empty arena. My team was on the ice, but the stands were desolate. I was doing some target practice, and my swings were getting somewhat aggressive.

I loved the rink. It was where I felt most at home. The cool air filled my lungs as I skated around the ice with ease. My team was my family, and I usually considered the ice my home.

My mind was distracted, though, so, as I ran drills with my teammates, I got a little out of hand, slamming Dylan into the barriers a little too hard.

“Seb! What the hell is going on?” Wyatt asked, grabbing the back of my jersey and forcefully pulling me back.

“Sorry!” I growled, tugging free from his grip.

Storming, I skated toward the locker room, ignoring Wyatt’s shout behind me. “Hitting the head,” I shouted over my shoulder.

I didn’t need to use the restroom, but I did need some peace and quiet. My chest was tight as I slammed my locker door closed. The ice was usually my safe haven. When I was playing, my head was blissfully empty.

Only now that silence had been completely ruined by my own thoughts.

“Okay, you’re going to have to sit your ass down and talk to me,” a voice behind me growled. Sighing, I turned to look at Wyatt, who was standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, a concerned look on his face.

“I’m just in my head right now. It’s nothing.”

“Dylan’s ribs are probably bruised with how hard you shoved him into the barrier. That’s not like you. You’re not usually aggressive on the ice. Well, unless we’re up against the Knights, but I get that.” Wyatt laughed.

Sitting on the bench, resting my elbows on my knees, I ran my hand through my hair with a small groan, then dropped my head into my hands.

“Talk to me,” Wyatt insisted, sitting next to me. My eyes never left the floor as I spoke.

“Can you keep this just between us? I would talk to my pack if I had one, but it’s just me, unfortunately.”

“I won’t tell a soul. As far as the pack goes, I’m sure you’ll find yours soon enough. That shit just takes time.”

I took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. Part of me thought I should keep quiet; it wasn’t my place to tell anyone else. Only, I needed to talk to someone, or I was going to go insane. Usually, I would talk to Hazel, but she was ignoring my texts.

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