“We’re taking this one step at a time,” I cut in, bristling at the way she’s already writing Darren’s career obituary. “Can we see him?”
Dr. Casell studies me for a moment, then nods. “Of course. He’s awake, but keep in mind he’s still processing the concussion. We thought it would be best for people he knows to break the news about the designation without a bunch of medical professionals crowding him, but it may take him some time to adjust to this new reality.”
On the one hand, I’m glad we get to break the news to him. On the other… holy shit, we have to break the news that Darren is an omega.
To Darren.
This isnotgoing to go well.
She leads us down a short hallway to a private room, pausing at the door. “Try not to overwhelm him,” she adds before pushing it open.
Darren looks smaller somehow, propped up in the hospital bed with monitors beeping steadily beside him. The bruise spreading across his temple has darkened to an ugly purple, and a bandage covers the gash where his helmet strap cut into his chin.
He looks up when we come in, his eyes widening as they drift over each of us.
“Darren?” Aidan asks warily, moving closer to the bed like Darren might shatter if he moves too quickly. “Do you remember us?”
Darren blinks at him. “Who… who are you people?”
A look of panic flashes across Aidan’s face, and he exchanges a look with the others, who clearly haven’t picked up on his telltale sarcasm.
“You don’t remember?” Zayn asks, an edge in his tone anyone else might mistake for anger, but I can tell he’s as worried as the rest of us. He might be an asshole on and off the ice, but he’s still an alpha. He still cares for his pack.
“It’s kind of fuzzy,” Darren says, rubbing his head, before he fixes his attention on Zayn and squints. “But you seem really familiar.”
“Oh, yeah?” Zayn’s voice gets rougher as Dmitri and Aidan look increasingly agitated. “How so?”
“I can’t place it,” Darren says with a troubled grimace. “It’s like… like something in the back of my mind is telling me…” he trails off as Zayn leans in close, hanging on his every word. Finally, Darren’s eyes lock on his and he shifts to his usual deadpan delivery as he adds, “that you’re a giant fucking douchebag.”
Zayn’s expression falls flat, and he flips Darren off with a slew of curses.
Dmitri scowls, but Aidan howls a laugh as if he wasn’t just freaking out. “Nice one! Zayn, you should have seen your face.”
“Fuck off, rookie,” Zayn growls.
Darren rolls his eyes. “About fucking time,” he growls, voice rougher than usual. “They won’t tell me shit except that I have a concussion, which… no shit. Been there, done that.”
Relief floods through me. This is the Darren I know. Irritable, impatient, already chafing at the restrictions of medical care. He had even me going for a second there. But beneath his usual scent, that woodsmoke aroma lingers, stronger now in the confined space of the hospital room.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, moving to stand at the foot of his bed.
“Like I got kneed in the head by a freight train,” he replies with a grimace that might be an attempt at a smile. “But it’s just a knock. I’ll be back in shape by next game.”
Zayn snorts, leaning against the wall with forced casualness. Dmitri shoots him a warning look.
“What?” Darren’s eyes narrow, darting between us. “What’s with the funeral faces? Did we lose the fucking game or something?”
“We won,” Aidan pipes up. “Your block saved the game. It was awesome.”
Darren’s shoulders relax slightly. “Well, at least there’s that.” He shifts in the bed, wincing as the movement jostles his head. “So when can I get out of here? These beds are shit, and it smells like antiseptic.”
The awkwardness in the room thickens. Darren’s enhanced sense of smell is already working, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. Before, he would have barely noticed the hospital scents.
“The doctor says you need observation,” I say carefully. “Concussion protocol.”
“Bullshit. I’ve had worse.” He starts pushing himself up to sitting, grimacing through the pain. “Just need some rest in my own bed.”
No one speaks. The silence stretches, uncomfortable and loaded. I search for the right words, the captain’s speech that will make this easier, but they won’t come.
