"This is... not what I was expecting," Lexie admits, running her fingers along the polished wooden table in the dining area. "I thought it would be more like a school bus with better seats."
I can't help but laugh. "The team believes in traveling comfortably. Makes recovery between games easier."
"And keeps the peace when you're stuffing a bunch of competitive alphas in a metal tube for hours," Jax adds, coming up behind us. He drops his duffel in one of the sleeping compartments before joining us. "The extra space prevents murders."
"He's only mostly joking," I stage-whisper to Lexie. "You should have seen what happened when Aidan accidentally used Zayn's hair product on our Detroit trip."
Aidan groans from where he's stowing his pillow. "Are we still talking about that? It was an honest mistake!"
"It was a crime against humanity," Zayn corrects, brushing past us to claim his favorite seat. "My hair looked flat for an entire day. People noticed."
"No one noticed," Dmitri rumbles, settling into a chair near the front with a book already in hand.
"The hockey blogs mentioned it!"
Lexie's eyes dart between them, taking in the easy banter with a small smile. She's clearly amused by our bullshit.
"Where should I sit?" she asks, looking at the various options.
"Wherever you want," I tell her, squeezing her hand. "But I was hoping you might join me?"
I gesture toward a pair of seats near the middle of the bus, not too close to Zayn's dramatics at the front, but not isolated in the back either. Lexie nods, and I stow her carry-on in the overhead compartment before settling in beside her.
The bus rumbles to life beneath us as Jason starts the engine. Jax heads to the front to discuss route details with him, whilethe rest of the pack settles into their road trip routines. Dmitri opens his book, already lost in whatever historical tome he's working through this week. Aidan unpacks what appears to be an entire gaming system that he hooks up to the small TV in the kitchenette area. Zayn puts on noise-canceling headphones, closing his eyes in what will undoubtedly be a failed attempt at beauty sleep before we even leave the driveway.
And then there's Lexie, sitting beside me with her knitting needles already in hand, looking both out of place and perfectly at home surrounded by my pack. My chest tightens with an emotion I'm not sure I'm ready to name.
"You good?" I ask softly as the bus pulls out of the driveway.
She nods, her needles clicking in a soothing rhythm. "Better than good. This is nice."
I lift my arm, an invitation she accepts by tucking herself against my side. The woodsmoke scent that's become my unwanted signature since presenting as an omega rises in response to her closeness, but it's muted by the suppressants. Still, I catch the way she inhales slightly deeper, like she's trying to catch more of it.
Everything is perfect. But in the back of my mind, I know the ultimate test of our new pack dynamics is still to come. I still haven't gone into heat, and while I know these suppressants won't hold forever, all I can do is hope I have some more time to adjust.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
LEXIE
The Vancouver arena locker room smells like leather, sweat, and that particular combination of disinfectant and ice that I'm starting to associate with hockey. I'm perched on a bench, trying to look like I belong here while five massive hockey players gear up around me.
The energy tonight is different from home games. It's sharper, more focused. There's something about being on enemy territory that brings out the predator in all of them and it's hotter than I care to admit.
"You're fidgeting," Zayn observes, pulling his jersey over his head. The movement makes his abs flex in a way that's frankly criminal. "Nervous?"
"I'm not fidgeting," I protest, then immediately stop bouncing my knee. Shit. "Okay, maybe a little. This is different from watching at home."
"Because you care more now," Dmitri says simply, adjusting his shoulder pads with the ease of someone who's done it a hundred times a year for over a decade. His accent is thicker when he's focused like this, preparing for battle. That's what this is for them, controlled warfare on ice.
He's right, of course.
Two weeks of individual dates, late-night phone calls, and stolen moments at my new studio have only deepened what I feel for each of them. Just the other day, Jax took me to an art gallery and surprised me with his knowledge of contemporary sculpture. Aidan taught me to ice skate, holding my hands and laughing when I death-gripped his arms. Zayn showed up at my studio at midnight with Thai food and helped me reorganize my inventory system. Dmitri brought me to a Russian bakery and told me stories about his grandmother while we ate pastries that made Aidan jealous. And Darren has been at my apartment more nights than not, sometimes just sleeping beside me, like he needs the closeness as much as I do.
"I care about all of you," I admit, watching Aidan tape his stick. "Is that weird? That I'm equally worried about each of you getting your teeth knocked out?"
"Our dental insurance is excellent," Jax says dryly, but his gray eyes are warm when they meet mine. He's already fully dressed except for his helmet, looking every inch the captain. "And no, it's not weird. It's exactly what we hoped for."
