Page 74 of Sweet Heat

The real world can’t be avoided forever. No matter how much I will it away. Posie is beloved by so many, and although I haven’t told anyone about this house, a bit of digging will easily unearth the purchase. To be honest, if the senior Moore Pack weren’t away on vacation, I’m pretty sure the door would have been broken down long before now.

Wrapped in the soft warmth of our post-nap blankets, Posie and I snuggle on the couch, but my evil phone beckons. For the first time in days, I power it up, staring in trepidation as the welcome screen loads. We haven’t done anything wrong. I know that in my soul, but I’m still well aware that our bonding couldcause trouble, and I want to protect my Puff from anything that could steal her happiness.

“Where in the world is my phone?” she asks, biting her lip and glancing around the room. Amid the chaos of the carnival and Posie going into heat, I hadn’t thought to retrieve it…

“Mari has it,” I remember suddenly, thinking back to the girl directing me through the fair. “I’m sorry. I forgot to grab it from her.”

Posie frowns, then shrugs. “No big deal, but can I use your phone or tablet to check my orders? Oh shoot, my grade’s probably been posted, too.”

“Of course,” I reply, handing it over immediately before looking through my messages. Anything my girl needs, she gets. “The passcode is your birthdate.”

Her brows raise, pinning me with a surprised stare before a big grin splits her face. “That probably shouldn’t shock me.”

“Nope.” Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, I tug her closer against me, loving the way her back leans into my chest. She spends some time checking whatever she needs to, and I relax, enjoying the quiet moment with my omega before I need to share her with all the people who love her. There’s a part of me that wants to be greedy, hoarding all of her minutes to myself, but I know that wouldn’t make her happy, so I need to suck it up. Her sudden gasp catches my attention, and my gut sinks.

The party’s over.

“Miller!” she exclaims. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but all the messages started coming through.” Her voice fills with alarm, and she sits up quickly, and the loss leaves me cold.

“There’s never going to be anything on my phone you can’t see. No such thing as snooping between us,” I reassure her. There aren’t any secrets between us. I want her to know without a shadow of a doubt that she can trust me.

Posie waves off my comment, gesturing at the screen. My eyes track her movement, noticing the picture below. It’s an image of Posie slung over my shoulder at the carnival while I’m swinging a bat at some male. To be honest, I barely remember getting us out of there. The fury and fear coursing through my body had me in an Alpha haze where the only thing that mattered was protecting my omega.

The headline under the image snags my attention. “Miller Phillips. Dangerous and at large?” Scanning the article, I realize it doesn’t have much information. The writer doesn’t know who the omega is, why I took her, or what in the world is going on. There’s a lot of conjecture about me being a ‘lone Alpha who snapped,’ mentioning my well-known bachelor status. The only part that gives me pause is a line at the end, asking for anyone with information to call a police tip line.

Closing the article, I quickly check my messages. This number is not available to the public, so I’m sure if there’s truly an issue, I’d have heard from my agent, coach, or the league itself.

There are several waiting voicemails and over thirty text messages.

Fuck.

Chapter Forty-One

When Miller’s face drains of color, my stomach flips. Anxiety builds in my belly, and I’m not sure if it’s mine or his. Perhaps both…

“What’s going on?” I ask, knowing there are repercussions for players who go against the league’s strict morality and professionalism codes. Though the league protects players’ privacy and personal lives, they are still role models and must comport themselves as such. Fines, suspensions, and even banning have occurred if a player gets in enough trouble.

I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve destroyed his career.

“That message was from my agent. He says I’m going to need to come forward and explain my actions immediately or risk ejection from the league.” Miller runs his hand through his darkhair, giving it a tug of frustration as he listens to another message. He stands up, pacing a divot into the plush carpet as he sorts through the implications of my heat. As he goes back and forth, brow furrowed in anger, I tuck my knees up to my chest. His rage becomes my rage, his stress flowing like a river down the bond. Hunching forward, I press into the couch cushions, overwhelmed by the torrent coursing through him.

A soft purr starts in my chest; my omega’s attempt to calm my worried Alpha. The second Miller hears the noise, he closes his phone and drops beside me on the couch, holding me close like nothing could ever come between us.

“I-I’m sorry,” I croak, trying not to break into sobs. The last thing I want is to make Miller feel like he needs to comfort me when it’s his career at stake.

And it’s all my fault.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” he insists, but I know that’s not true. If I had skipped the fair and come straight back to the apartment when I was feeling off, we wouldn’t be in this mess. If I had never gone on that stupid date with Alex, Miller wouldn’t have needed to save me. All the what-ifs fill my brain, tumbling over each other like wishes on the wind. There are so many ways that I messed up—and now it’s likely Miller will have to pay the price.

“We need to go see my dad,” I say, knowing as co-owner of the Feral Feckers, he’s our only shot at salvation. Miller hugs me tighter, heart thumping against my ear.

“He left a message. But his only concern was for you. I’m afraid we have a furious Willie Moore on our hands.” Miller kisses the top of my head, his churro scent acrid with nerves.I know he wanted to tell my father before we bonded. Dad’s approval was a big deal for him, but what’s done is done. We can’t go back, and honestly, I wouldn’t want to.

“It’ll be okay. Why don’t you text my dad and tell him we will meet him wherever’s most convenient?” I squeeze Miller’s knee, offering him all the support I can. He’s worried, but I know my parents best—they’re all bark. Once everything settles, I would bet on them being over the moon that Miller’s my mate. He nods stiffly, and I kiss his cheek quickly. “Then let’s get ready to face this head-on. They can’t kick you off the team for protecting me. I won’t allow it.”

My childhood home looms larger than life, more foreboding than ever before. Perhaps it’s the time spent away, or the gray sky threatening rain, but something feels off, unwelcoming. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as the gravel crunches below Miller’s SUV.

The driveway is fuller than it should be. Both of my fathers’ cars wait out front, but off to the side, I spot Owen’s flashy yellow sports car. He rarely drives it, but I remember when he bought it with his first major league check.

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