"What?" I ask, confused.
He shifts in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "There's something I need to explain. Something I probably should've mentioned from the beginning, but I didn't know you'd specified no omegas, and then I got caught up talking to you and..."
He trails off, raking a hand through his hair again, that nervous and vulnerable gesture I'm already finding endearing despite myself.
"What is it?" I prod gently.
Darren meets my eyes directly. "I'mthe omega, Lexie."
My wine glass freezes halfway to my lips. "You're... what?"
"I'm the omega," he repeats, his voice low but steady. "The one who recently presented."
I stare at him, sure I've misheard. This mountain of a man—this professional hockey player who exudes strength and confidence—can't possibly be an omega. It doesn't compute with everything I thought I knew about designation.
Holy shit. This can't be happening.
The first guy I've been genuinely attracted to in ages turns out to be the one thing I swore I couldn't handle.
Actually, no. Considering the way my dating life has been going, that makes perfect sense.
Chapter
Thirteen
DARREN
The moment the words leave my mouth, I can see Lexie's entire body language shift. Her eyes widen, her spine stiffens, and she stares at me like I've suddenly grown a second head. I've seen that look before. On my teammates' faces, on doctors, on myself in the mirror that first morning after the hospital.
Disbelief. Confusion. A complete reassessment of everything she thought she knew about omegas.
"You're..." she starts, then stops, shaking her head slightly. "But you don't..."
"Look like an omega?" I finish for her, trying to keep my voice light even as something heavy settles in my chest. "Yeah, I get that a lot these days."
I run a hand through my hair, a nervous habit I can't seem to shake these days. This was going so well. Too well, probably. I should've known when I met the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on and she happened to be hilarious, charming, driven,andsweet, the other shoe would drop.
"I'm sorry," I say, leaning back slightly. "I should've been upfront from the beginning. I'm not used to any of this yet."
Lexie's still staring at me, those warm brown eyes searching my face like she's trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. "But you smell like a beta."
"Right." I tap the side of my neck, where the scent blocker is hidden under my collar. "Industrial-strength suppressants and blockers. They're doing some heavy lifting right now."
She takes a sip of her wine, seeming to need a moment to process. "So you're not... I mean, this isn't something you've always been?"
“Gods, no.” I let out a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Until a handful of weeks ago, I was a beta. Had been my whole life. Then I took a hit on the ice that scrambled my brains pretty good.”
"A concussion made you present as an omega?" Her disbelief is completely justified. I've had enough medical professionals look at me like I'm a medical miracle, or mistake, to know how it sounds.
"One of many concussions," I clarify, unconsciously touching the spot on my temple where the knee connected. "But yeah, this one apparently knocked some screws loose. I was adopted, so I never knew my biological parents, just that my biological mother was a beta. Turns out dear old dad must've been an alpha."
I try to keep my tone casual, like I'm recounting someone else's story and not the thing that turned my entire identity inside out.
"Thanks, Dad," I add dryly.
Lexie's watching me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. There's something in her gaze that's not quite pity, thank fuck, but a sort of understanding that I wasn't expecting.
"That's... rough?" she offers. "I'm assuming you're not thrilled, if you're wearing blockers."
