Page 5 of Choosing Their Omega

I glide across the ice, stick handling the puck with finesse, taunting Miles and Jax as they backpedal to defend against my moves. I try to fake them out with a pass to Jax, but Miles, that sneaky bastard, sees right through it. He smirks, snatches the puck away from me, and swiftly dishes it off to a teammate down the line. Damn, he’s good.

Our practice is firing on all cylinders, with seamless drills and relentless intensity. We’re executing crisp passes, sharp turns, and bone-crushing checks. The sound of blades digging into the ice fills the air, mixing with the thuds of bodies colliding and the clashing of sticks. It’s a symphony of controlled chaos as we push ourselves to the limit, testing our skills and working to improve on the areas where we’ve been weak in previous games.

The energy on the ice is like an electric current, powered by the unbreakable bond we share as a team. We communicate without words, instinctively understanding each other’s movements and intentions.

When Coach Vaughn calls a break in the practice, I pause for a moment, sweat dripping down my forehead as I take in the practice arena around me. The ice is marked with the battle scars of our efforts, and I grin as I watch Lawson squeeze his water bottle into his mouth and then spit the water out onto the ice.

I fucking love this team.

They’re the reason why I lace up my skates every day, and why there’s no fucking way I can let myself get benched with an injury. I’m feeling damn good about our chances of taking the Stanley Cup this year, and I’m going to do whatever it takes for us to go all the way and win.

My shoulder twinges again when we line up to do our shooting drills at the net, but I ignore it. This just needs to be ignored and worked through.

After practice, Vaughn gives us one of his strategy talks.

“We’re doing well,” he reminds us. “But we can’t get complacent. We have to keep our heads in the game and not get distracted too early. The team that things they have it in the bag is always the team that fumbles it and leaves everyone wondering what went wrong come playoffs. And we’re not going to be that team, are we?”

“Hell no, Coach,” I call out, encouraging the others to join in.

“That’s damn right.” Vaughn nods at me with a grin. He knows he can count on me to keep the guys enthusiastic and focused, like a true Alpha. That’s part of why I’ve kept my shoulder issue to myself all season. Admitting to an injury—especially one that I can still play through at this point—would bring down the team, and I refuse to do anything to upset the great dynamic we’ve got going on at the moment.

We all pack up together, bantering and talking friendly shit, but out of all my teammates, only three join me on the walk to the car: my pack. Knox, Miles, and Lawson.

These three men are the most important people in my life. They’re my brothers in arms and my best friends.

“You four going to spend your evenings watching Bluey?” Jax teases us as we head out of the arena.

“You wish you had an excuse to watch Bluey,” Lawson shoots back. “Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to remind the Omegas in the area you’re interested in starting a pack—oh, wait, you scared them all off.”

“At least I tried,” Jax replies. “When was the last time you even struck out with an Omega, Hunt? Too busy changing diapers?”

“Ben’s too old for diapers.”

“I was talking about Ashford’s diapers.”

I flip Jax off with both hands, but I’m not really upset. That’s just how it is with our teammates, the typical chirping and locker room banter.

For all that Jax was teasing us, though, he is right about one thing: we are going home to see Ben. He’s Knox’s nephew, but ever since he came to live with us, he’s become our whole world.

Sure, we love going out and getting a couple beers, playing darts and pool, shooting the shit with pals as much as the next guy. We’re still adult men who like to hang out with other adults, after all.

But since Ben arrived… most of the time, we just want to be with him. None of us expected to be parents so soon, especially when we don’t even have an Omega yet, but it’s how life’s worked out, and while the circumstances of how Ben got to us hurt, I know we’re all grateful he’s in our lives.

The moment I open the front door, I have an armful of dog. “Winston!”

Winston barks and licks my face, slobbering all over me with happiness and excitement.

“I think someone needs a walk,” Miles notes.

“I think someone else needs a hug,” Knox says, crouching down right as Ben enters the room.

“Uncle Knox!” Ben runs for him and jumps into his arms, letting Knox hug him tightly.

“Were you good for Angelica?” Knox asks, standing and holding Ben up braced on his hips.

“He was,” Angelica confirms, hurrying into the foyer. “And I’m so sorry to cut and run, but…”

“No, no, we were late,” I reply, already digging into my wallet for the cash. “Here you go. Thank you so much.”

---