Chapter 162: A Rest In Reid’s Room

I looked up into Reid’s eyes, the heavy silence of the bedroom settling around us.

The puzzle pieces of Reid’s hostile, defensive nature finally clicked into place. I could completely understand why their relationship was so sour now—why he treated his mother like a dangerous adversary rather than a parent.

​Though he still picked up her calls from time to time out of a lingering, obligatory respect for the family hierarchy, he was never warm with her.

Not the way he was warm with his father. With his father, his sharp Alpha edge dissolved into a gentle, protective softness, born from a deep sense of responsibility and love for the fragile man who had sacrificed so much to bring him into the world.

But with his mother, it was a perpetual cold war, a tireless battle of wills between an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

​"You really are a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?" I murmured, a soft, genuine smile breaking through my exhausted guard as I reached up, my hand gently cupping the side of his jaw. My thumb traced the hard, tense line of his cheekbone, coaxing the tight muscles to relax.

​Reid let out a low, grounding hum, leaning his head into my palm as his large arms tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

The bitter, toxic scent of his old high school memories instantly began to fade, replaced by a thick, deeply comforted wave of sweet frozen pine.

​"I had to be," he whispered, his grey eyes softening as they locked onto mine, completely bare and vulnerable in the dim light of his childhood room. "If I wasn’t stubborn, Kain, I wouldn’t be here on the Serpents. And I never would have met you in person."

​The weight of his words settled deep in my chest. If he had bent to his mother’s blueprint, he would be sitting in a high-rise office building in a tailored suit, completely miserable, and I would still be fighting the grueling weight of my hidden identity entirely alone.

​I leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips—a silent, grounding promise that no matter how suffocating his mother’s empire felt, he had won his freedom. He was on my ice, and he was mine.

​"Come on," I whispered, pulling back slightly and gesturing toward the large, neatly made bed across the room. "We have a long morning ahead of us, and we need to look entirely unfazed when we face her at breakfast. Let’s get some rest."

​Reid offered a tired, genuine smile, his fingers locking into mine as he led me away from the door, his heavy scent wrapping around us like an unbreakable shield against the rest of the house.

Before turning off the lights, Reid walked over to the heavy double doors and clicked the brass lock into place. He even threw the manual deadbolt for good measure, making sure there wasn’t a single chance in hell one of his mother’s overbearing servants—or the matriarch herself—could walk in unannounced.

​Only then did he shed his jacket and collapse onto the sprawling king-sized bed, dragging me down with him.

"Now, it’s just you and me," he muttered, our lips brushing and I laughed.

"Yes, it’s just you and me. So, let’s sleep," I kissed his lips and rolled over to my side to start getting my own clothes off.

The moment I was bare, left in my singlet and briefs, his large arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest.

I didn’t complain and didn’t wriggle out. He locked the door anyway so this was fine.

Wrapped tightly in the heat of his body and suffocated in the best way possible by his thick scent of frozen pine, the crushing exhaustion of the past forty-eight hours finally caught up to me.

My eyes grew heavy, and finally, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

​Knock. Knock. Knock.

​The sharp, rhythmic rapping against the thick wooden door pierced through the quiet room, instantly dragging me out of sleep.

​"Master Reid, Captain Evans," the butler’s muted voice echoed from the hallway. "It is six in the morning. Breakfast will be served in the main dining hall in thirty minutes."

​I stirred, my eyelids fluttering open. The morning light was barely peeking through the heavy velvet drapes. I felt the massive, dead weight of Reid’s arm still clamped around my waist, his face buried deep into the crook of my neck, his heavy, rhythmic breathing puffing warm air against my skin.

​"Reid," I murmured softly, my voice raspy with sleep as I reached up to pat his forearm. "Reid, wake up."

​He grunted, a low, discontented rumble vibrating through his chest as his hold on me tightened instinctively instead of loosening. "Five more minutes, Cap..."

​"We don’t have five minutes," I said, turning in his hold to face him, my hands pressing against his broad chest. "We need to leave early if we’re going to make it back to the facility for Monday practice. We have a game coming up this Friday, remember?"

​At the mention of hockey, Reid’s grey eyes slowly cracked open. The fog of sleep began to clear, replaced by that familiar, sharp focus.

​He sat up with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark, messy hair. Before swinging his legs off the edge of the bed, he leaned down and pressed a firm, lingering kiss against my lips, his stubble lightly scratching my skin.

​"Good morning, Cap," he grunted, his voice thick and rough.

​"Good morning," I replied, a small smile touching my lips as I sat up beside him. "Now get dressed."

​By six-thirty, we were fully dressed in our sharp suits from the night before, our posture once again locked into that rigid, professional teammate distance.

​As we stepped out of the east wing, Reid’s mood immediately took a nose-dive into grumpiness. The relaxed Alpha from the bedroom vanished, replaced by the defensive, scowling giant who hated every square inch of his family’s estate.

​When we reached the grand foyer, his mother and father were already standing near the entrance. His mother looked as impeccably groomed and terrifyingly sharp as ever in a dark tailored dress, while his father wore a cozy, pastel yellow cardigan, holding a delicate teacup in his hands.

​"You’re up early," Fidora remarked coldly, her sharp eyes assessing the two of us as we approached. "Breakfast is being set up in the dining room."

​"We’re not staying for breakfast," Reid snapped, his tone flat and unyielding as he grabbed his coat from the waiting butler without breaking stride.

​His mother’s eyebrows twitched upward slightly. "Reid—"

​"We have Monday practice," Reid interrupted, his voice leaving zero room for argument. "We have a game against the Stars this Friday, and unlike you, Mom, I actually take my job seriously. We need to get to the facility now."

Brad set his teacup down on a nearby side table and stepped forward, his expression soft and full of gentle understanding. "At least take some coffee and warm pastries for the drive, sweetheart. You can’t practice on an empty stomach."

​Reid’s aggressive stance softened just a fraction as he looked down at his father. He let out a low breath, nodding once. "Fine. Thanks, Dad."

​I stepped forward, offering his parents a polite, flawless bow of my head, slipping back into my role as the analytical captain seamlessly. "Thank you for the hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. McCoy. Have a good day."

​"Take care of yourself, Captain Evans," his father said warmly.

​His mother merely gave me a sharp, calculating nod, her eyes tracking us all the way to the heavy double doors.

​The moment we stepped out into the crisp morning air and heard the grand doors click shut behind us, the oppressive weight of the McCoy estate finally lifted off my shoulders.

We walked down the stone steps toward the waiting car, the morning sun rising over the horizon, casting a golden light over the road ahead.

The driver opened the rear door of the sedan, and we slid inside, the quiet click of the closing door sealing out the cold mansion air and the weight of the McCoy legacy.

​As soon as the car cleared the wrought-iron gates and turned onto the main highway toward the city, the invisible barrier between us dissolved.

Reid leaned his head back against the leather headrest with a long, heavy exhale, reaching blindly across the seat until his fingers tangled tightly with mine.

​"God, I hate that place," he muttered, his thumb rubbing rhythmic, soothing circles against the back of my hand. The grumpy, defensive edge in his voice was finally starting to soften into the familiar, rough warmth I knew so well.

​"It’s still your home, you know. Anyway, we survived," I said, a faint smile touching my lips as I squeezed his hand back, resting our joined fists on the seat between us. "And more importantly, we didn’t give her a single thing to hold over us. As far as Fidora is concerned, we’re just two stubborn teammates heading to practice."

​"Yeah," Reid grunted, turning his head to look at me, a sudden, wicked glint returning to his grey eyes. "Though I’m still taking those pastries my dad packed. I’m starving."

​He reached for the insulated bag the butler had handed him, pulling out a still-warm, buttery croissant and tearing it in half. He handed the larger piece to me without asking. I took it, the rich smell filling the quiet interior of the car as we shared the small breakfast in peace, watching the city skyline slowly rise in the morning sun.