"Of you mauling our girl in the kitchen? Nah." Darren sets down his box, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I'll have my turn later."
The casual possessiveness in his voice makes heat pool low in my belly.Our girl. Like I've always belonged to them.
"Speaking of mauling," Aidan appears in the doorway, mock outrage on his face. "Are you seriously hogging our good luck charm before the game? We have a system, Copeland."
"Snooze you lose, rookie." Zayn presses a kiss to his mark on my throat, the sensitive skin still tender from two nights ago. The contact sends sparks through my nervous system, the pack bond humming with satisfaction.
"There's plenty of me to go around," I manage, though my voice comes out breathier than intended. "And we have hours before the game."
"About that." Jax enters with Dmitri close behind, and suddenly my spacious kitchen feels very small with five large hockey players filling it. "You ready for tonight?"
This isn't just any game. This is Darren's return to the ice as an openly omega player. The league's test run. The night that could change everything.
"I'm ready." I slide off the counter, smoothing down my shirt. "Are you?"
They exchange glances, that wordless communication thing they do that used to make me feel like an outsider but now just feels like home.
"We're ready," Darren says, but there's tension in his shoulders that belies the confidence in his voice. "Team's been solid in practice. Media training was... well, it was bullshit, but we got through it."
"And my surprise?" I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "Still want to know what it is?"
"You're really not going to tell us?" Aidan looks like a kicked puppy. "Not even a hint?"
"Nope." I pop the 'p' sound, enjoying their frustration perhaps a bit too much. "But I should mention, I won't need the VIP box seat tonight. You can give it to someone else."
The silence that follows is deafening. Five pairs of eyes stare at me with varying degrees of alarm.
"What do you mean you won't need the seat?" Jax's captain voice is in full effect. "Where else would you be?"
"Don't worry, I'll be there." I pat his chest soothingly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. It's just part of the surprise."
"Lexie." Dmitri's voice carries that rumbling concern that means he's about to go into protective mode. "Is it safe? This surprise?"
"Completely safe," I assure him. "You'll just have to trust me."
They don't look entirely convinced, but before anyone can argue further, my phone buzzes with a text. Jessica, letting me know the last batch of jerseys is ready for pickup. Perfect timing.
"I actually need to run to the studio for a bit," I say, grabbing my purse. "Last minute surprise prep."
"Want company?" Darren offers, but I shake my head.
"You guys finish getting the truck back. I'll be home in time for pre-game dinner."
Home. The word slips out so easily now. Not my apartment, not their house. Home.
"Fine," Zayn says, but he pulls me in for another kiss, this one softer but no less intense. "But we don't like it."
"You'll forgive me when you see what I've planned," I promise.
One by one, they each steal a kiss, as if they can't let me leave without that contact. By the time I make it to my car, my lips are tingling and my head is spinning in the best way.
The drive to my studio gives me time to mentally review everything. The fan chat exploded when I posted about the banner. What started as a plan to hold up a twenty-foot "PLAY LIKE AN OMEGA" sign has morphed into something so much bigger.
Hundreds of fans have been messaging, wanting to show support. When I mentioned making custom jerseys with Darren's number and "OMEGA" on the nameplate, the requests poured in faster than I could handle. The official team store sold out of his jersey within hours of the announcement that he'd beplaying, so I've been coordinating with my new assistant, three local print shops, and a handful of seamstresses to fill orders.
It's been chaos, but the good kind. The kind that means something is changing.
My studio buzzes with activity when I arrive. Tanya, my new assistant, has boxes of jerseys stacked along one wall, each labeled with order numbers.