Page 12 of Finding the Forward: Part One
While omegas could bond with each other, the law didn’t recognize it like alpha-omega bonds. We’d bond with each other after the pack contract went through. After we were certain that the Knights couldn’t trade us away from each other. Though he planned on hiding his designation as long as he could.
“Get dressed, Grif. No one wants to see your junk,” Jonas teased, throwing a shirt at him. He was taller than me but shorter than Grif, and not as bulky, but still broad and muscular in all the right places for a defender.
I texted AJ, the other member of our soon-to-be pack.
Me
You’re coming?
AJ
Running late
The three of us got ready and made our way out to the ice. It was already full of players and their packmates and families. A small group of press sat in the stands. Given tomorrow was our home opener, today we were having a family skate.
No AJ yet. He’d be there. Grif, Jonas, and I skated out, holding hands, me in the middle.
Nia, one of our centers, had her dog on a leash, and I waved. Pupper loved the ice and skittered about in a black and silver Knights jersey, matching Nia’s twin toddlers. While the team was male-dominated, we had several lady players. All but one were forwards.
I looked around, skating out of the way of the rookies racing past. Our mascot, Nat the Knight, played tag with some kids.
My heart melted at the tiny children on the ice in their little Knights jerseys. I loved seeing the spouses, packmates, and children of our teammates. Nothing was as sexy as a giant player with a baby in a tiny jersey.
Grif holding a baby? Fuck me. One day...
Jonas skated off to talk to one of the alpha defenders. Probably to chat about pack contracts since she’d formed her pack over the summer.
That scent taunted me again. Like before, it was just a hint of something.But what?
“Are you okay?” Grif joined me, squeezing my hand.
“I keep catching a weird scent. But I should be asking you. You never answered my question back there in the locker room.” I frowned, worry for him tugging at my soul.
He leaned against the wall of the rink, looking pensive, as his giant, pale hand raked his red hair. “I’ve been thinking about Airplane Girl.”
“Airplane Girl? Why? It’s been months. She never reached out to you. Not even to congratulate you for your win or to return my sweatshirt.” Huh. I’d sort of forgotten about her.
“When we played Rockland it reminded me how upset she’d been, how shitty her family treated her,” he added. “I’d half-hoped to see her there. That she’d stayed with her siblings instead of returning home.”
Which was very much a Grif thought. We’d grown up together in Boston. I’d been the spoiled only child of a wealthy alpha-omega couple. Grif grew up in a giant-ass pack with tons of kids and had always been worrying about someone or something.
“You were just another puck in her pouch,” I teased him. That must have been some flight.
Yeah, she knew his first name and team. Shit, she probably knew who he was. Her silence meant she wasn’t interested, and my sweatshirt was a trophy.
Grif shook his head. “I get the sneaking suspicion she assumed I’m a fútboler.”
“What?” I snorted at the image of him kicking a black and white ball across a grass field while running around in shorts and knee socks.
“A lot of the pictures I found online of her were of her playing collegiate fútbol. When I told her I was a forward, she said she’d played forward, too.”
“Oh.” Okay. I could see that. “If you figured out who she is, why don’t you message her on social media?”
He shook his head. “She doesn’t have any, and I haven’t been successful at contacting her any other way.”
“Who doesn’t have any socials? I’m sure she’s fine. You’ve got other things to think about–like tomorrow’s game,” I assured him.
“Yeah. I’m sure she’s okay.” Grif nodded, as if trying to convince himself.
