Page 35 of Puck Your Nanny

Hey, how’s the new job? Hope you’re settling in okay.

My stomach twists. I haven’t told her about presenting as an Omega. I haven’t told her anything, really. And I’m not sure Iwant to, not yet. Not when I still feel the sting of her silence when Brent tore me down, her unwillingness to take my side. The ache of that betrayal lingers, and suddenly, the playful warmth of the room feels distant.

Calvin nudges me. "Everything okay?"

I force a smile, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "Yeah. Just a message from Freda." I've told them a little bit about Freda and Brent, they know enough to know I feel hurt.

Nate watches me for a beat, then shifts closer. "You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."

I nod, grateful for the understanding. "I know. I just… don’t know what to say to her yet."

Peter hums. "Then don’t. Not until you’re ready."

I exhale, leaning into the comfort of their presence. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe, for now, it’s enough to just be here, surrounded by them, waiting for pizza and talking about ridiculous fondue plans.

Chapter 12

The sharp sound of skates cutting into ice fills the air as we reset after a drill. Coach is in a rare good mood today, all because Nate is back on the ice. Our star player, our captain, finally cleared to return after the funeral and time off. The whole team feels it—the energy is electric, like we finally have our missing piece again.

It doesn’t hurt that my own week off was excused after we all took the blood test to confirm Daisy as our Omega. Turns out, we weren’t just running on instinct. Science backed it up. She was meant for us. Coach doesn’t know the details, only that I had "personal matters" to handle, but with Nate back, no one gives a damn that I missed time.

“Let’s go again!” Coach claps his hands. “We’re running drills until I say otherwise. You want that Alpha Cup? You better act like it!”

The puck drops. Nate surges forward, cutting through defense like they aren’t even there. Fast, aggressive, exactly what makes him a nightmare to play against. He barrels straight for me, the puck dancing on his stick with effortless control. I stay locked in, weight shifting, tracking his every move.

He feints left. I don’t bite. He swings right. I push off, following, keeping my frame square.

He shoots.

I drop, glove snapping up just in time to snag the puck before it can go through my legs. The impact stings through the padding, but I smirk as I rise. “Getting slow, Captain?” I toss the puck back towards center ice.

Nate shakes his head, skating past with a grin. “Just warming up, Cal. Hope you’re ready to work.”

We reset. Another drill. Nate leads the offensive rush, weaving through defenders like they don’t exist. The chemistry between him and our wingers is sharp, tight passes threading the needle, testing my reflexes.

I block the first shot. Kick save. The second is a deflection, hitting my shoulder pad. The third? Nate takes the pass, winds up, and rockets a slapshot straight at the top corner.

It finds the back of the net.

He pumps a fist. I curse under my breath.

Coach blows the whistle. “That’s more like it! Again!”

The drills push us hard. Speed drills, puck battles, breakaways—relentless pace. Sweat beads under my helmet, muscles burning. This is what it takes. No excuses. No days off. If we want that trophy, this is the work.

Nate and I keep trading wins, pushing each other harder. Every time he scores, I step up on the next one. He dangles thepuck, trying to shake me, but I’m dialed in, matching him move for move. He gets one past me, but I shut down the next two. The team feeds off it, energy sky-high.

By the time Coach calls for a water break, my legs are on fire, lungs burn, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Nate skates over, helmet tucked under his arm, grinning like a bastard.

“You really needed that week off, huh?” He nudges me.

I smirk, squeezing water into my mouth. “You’re just mad I’m making you work for it.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Damn right I am.”

After ten minutes of bullshitting with the team,Coach claps his hands. “Break’s over. Back at it!”

We get back into position, ready for another round. This is what we live for. The grind, the battle, the chase for the Cup. And with Nate back? Nothing’s stopping us.

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