Chapter 6: Chapter 6

"I'm.... I'm fine." I stammered. "I must go now."

He nodded slowly, pushing off the wall. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and held something out to me.

It was the pink puck. I gasped, my eyes flying to his face with surpriseand confusion.

"I think this belongs to you...."He said.

I stared at it sitting in his open palm. Then I looked up at him again.

"You picked it up? W-why?" I asked.

He tilted his head slightly. "Because someone should, shouldn't they?"

I took it from his hand carefully, making sure our fingers did not touch. But even with the small distance between us I felt that warm pull and my heart jumped with that spark.

I closed my fingers around the puck and held it against my chest.

"Thank you." I whispered.

He gave me one last look, then turned and walked down the hall. I stood there alone, feeling the pink puck which was warm in my hand. It felt like holding his?

"But still, why do I love two hockey alphas? Am I really mated to them. I'm scared for myself." I thought, aloud and then I hurried off, heart thudding.

I jogged a little distance, my backpack hugged to my chest, my fingers wrapped around the pink puck.

The walk home was longer than today because I had so much to think about and not enough answers to fill the spaces.

The streets of my suburban neighborhood were quiet.

Most people were already inside. Porch lights flickered on one by one as the sky turned from orange to deep purple above the rooftops.

I walked slowly, staring up at it with the hem of my skirt brushing my shin. I was in no rush to get home to an empty house.

When, I got home, Mom's shoes were at the door. Small brown flats, worn at the heels, sitting neatly beside the welcome mat the way she always left them. I stared at them for a second before I stepped inside.

The living room light was off. Her bedroom door was closed too.

On the kitchen microwave sat a plate covered in foil with a yellow sticky note on top. I peeled it off and squinted and read it in the dim light coming through the window.

"Ate already. Yours is here. Don't sleep too late. Love you."

Only four sentences. That was our whole relationship on most nights. I was not angry. My mom was tired. She was always tired.

I pulled back the foil. The food was still slightly warm. She had remembered to leave the stove light on so it would stay that way.

That was love too. I knew that.

I made myself a plate and carried it carefully down the short hallway, past mom's door, to my bedroom at the end.

I set everything down on my desk and opened my window. Cool night air rushed in immediately.

"Biscuit? Pepper?"

I waited. A few seconds.

Then I heard the soft familiar sound of paws on the fire escape outside and the small scramble of claws on metal, and then two faces appeared on my windowsill.

Biscuit and Pepper.

Biscuit was a small sandy coloured dog with one ear that stood up and one that flopped over. He had shown up outside our building eight months ago and never fully forgot to come back. Pepper was a grey cat with—haha—a permanently unimpressed face who had arrived two weeks after Biscuit like she had heard there was food involved.

I called them mine even though they technically belonged to the streets but sadly, mom was uncomfortable when I showed them to her.

She said they were discarded by White Chapel Wolves. A rival clan.

"Hey babies." I whispered.

Biscuit's tail went absolutely insane, wagging madly. Pepper blinked at me slowly, which I had decided long ago meant "I love you" in cat language.

I reached under my desk and pulled out the small, colorful ceramic pet-plates I bought and kept hidden there.

I filled it carefully with a generous portion of the food, setting it on the windowsill between them.

They ate quietly while I sat on my bed and watched.

"I had the strangest day, guys." I told them.

Biscuit paused and looked up at me with his big brown eyes before going back to eating.

"Two mates, Biscuit." I pulled my knees to my chest. "Two. What am I even supposed to do with two?"

Pepper did not look up. She was not that kind of therapist. I guess she'd been through a lot with.... sociality.

I smiled in spite of everything.

When the plate was clean, Biscuit licked it twice for good measure. I took it back, washed it in the small bathroom beside my room, dried it and put it away under the desk again.

Then, I went back and gave them each a gentle scratch behind the ears.

Pepper tolerated it for exactly four seconds before moving away.

Biscuit pressed his whole face into my hand.

"Goodnight, guys. You can use that little shed behind the garage. I mean, if you like." I whispered.

They disappeared back down the fire escape into the dark.

I closed the window softly. Then I stood in the middle of my room and let out a long slow sigh.

Time to be a person again.

I changed out of my school uniform, bathed, brushed and dressed in my softest oversized shirt and shorts. I sat at my small mirror and took my hair down, running my fingers through the long blonde waves until the tension in my scalp loosened.

I cleaned my face slowly. Cold water first, then the rose water toner mom had bought me for my birthday, then the thick night cream that smelled like vanilla. I had done this routine every night since I was fifteen. It was the one thing in my day that belonged completely to me.

Then, I put my hair in a loose braid and turned off the desk lamp. I climbed into bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

The room was dark and quiet.

Next, I reached over to my bedside table and set the pink puck down on it. It caught the faint moonlight coming through the curtains and sat there glowing softly.

I stared at it. And then I let myself think about them again.

I thought about Hunter.

Hunter was a storm. He was loud even when he was silent. When he walked into a room the air changed. When his eyes found mine my whole body forgot what it was supposed to be doing. My heart did not beat faster around Hunter. It stuttered painfully.

He had called me a dumbass on the ice. Then, he had kissed me in the hallway like I was someone worth kissing. Or was I not?

He confused me so deeply it made my chest hurt.

And Asher.

Asher was a Sunday morning. He was quiet in the way that felt intentional, like he had chosen calmness on purpose. When he looked at me I did not feel my heart stutter. I felt it settle. Like something that had been slightly off balance in my whole life had shifted back into place.

He had picked up the pink puck off the ice. He had waited in an empty hallway just to give it back to me. He did not know me. Not really. But he had waited anyway.

I did not know what to do with that. So, I closed my eyes.

Three hundred and sixty five days, I thought again. All I had to do was not fall in love with either of them.

I almost laughed out loud in the dark. Was that even possible.

Sleep came fast and I had a dream.

It started with a field. Wide and green with long grass that moved in the wind. The sky above was not quite blue and not quite grey. It made my stomach feel uneasy.

I saw two small boys standing in the middle of the field facing each other. Both had dark brown hair and they looked so similar that for a moment I thought I was seeing double.

Then one turned slightly and I saw green eyes.

I realized it was little Hunter.

The other turned and I saw grey eyes.

I realized it was little Asher.

They were really young. Maybe eight or nine years old. Hunter's jaw was already set the way it would be ten years later, tight and stubborn. Asher stood with his arms loose at his sides. Even as a child he was still very calm in a badboy way.

They were not looking at each other. They were looking at something behind me.

I followed their gaze behind me and my blood went cold.

The wolves came from the thick tree lines slowly. One by one by one. Too many to count. Their eyes were not normal wolf eyes. They were flat and dark and ancient and very feral.

They formed a circle around the two boys, moving like lightning.