Chapter 83: McCoy... are you scared?

We ate in silence. The only sounds in the living room were the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic and the quiet bubbling of the remaining stew on the stove in the kitchen.

Reid devoured his food with a ravenous, single-minded focus, the physical toll of the fever and the sheer exhaustion of our earlier... encounter... clearly catching up to him.

I kept my eyes strictly on my own bowl, tracking the steam rising from the broth just to avoid looking at his mouth.

​Once the last spoonful was gone, I gathered the dishes and brought them over to the sink washing them quietly. Then, I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. My stomach did a nervous flip.

​It was already after seven in the evening.

Well, I guess it’s time to bounce.

"Alright, I guess this is it for today." I said as I kept the last dish on the wrack and flung the last bit of water from my hands.

​"Cap, where are you going?"

​Reid asked, and I turned around, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel.

​"Home," I replied flatly. "You’ve eaten, your fever broke, and the doctor said you’ll sleep through the night. My job here is done."

​The moment the words left my mouth, something strange fractured across Reid’s face. For a single, fleeting second, his arrogant posture collapsed. A look flashed in his smoky grey eyes—something raw, completely unguarded, and painfully vulnerable. It looked like he was horrified. Or scared.

​But just as quickly as it appeared, he slapped his usual smirk back on, covering the crack in his armor with a lazy drawl. "Come on, Cap. If you leave me now, who’s going to help me so I don’t exert my leg? I don’t even have crutches here. And you know how much of a stubborn blockhead I can be."

​I stood by the counter, my eyes narrowing as I tried to make sense of these rapid-fire excuses.

This was a guy who usually took what he wanted without explaining himself, yet here he was, practically scrambling for reasons to keep me in the room.

I walked back toward the table, observing the slight tremor in his fingers, the subtle tension in his jaw, and the fresh bead of cold sweat forming on his temple. This was so completely unlike the Reid McCoy I knew.

​I set my jacket down on the back of a chair and sat across from him. "McCoy... are you scared?"

​"Who? Me? Of course not," he retorted instantly, his voice dropping into a defensive, prickly register. But he didn’t look away, and the cold sweat on his forehead gave him away completely.

​"Tell me what’s going on," I said, leaning forward slightly, my captain’s voice taking over—firm, grounded, but open. "I’ll hear you out."

​Reid stared at the empty wooden surface of the table for a long moment, his chest rising and falling in a heavy sigh. The cocky rookie facade finally bled away, leaving him looking exhausted.

​"My leg hurts," he said, his voice dropping into a rough, unpolished whisper. "And I... I’m worried—"

​"Scared," I interrupted gently, refusing to let him hide behind a softer word.

​He didn’t argue. He just swallowed hard and went on. "Worried that I’ll fuck it up more than it already is. Scared that I’ll never get to stand on the ice again. I can be a blockhead, Evans, I know that. But I don’t want to ruin my chances to play on Friday. Or any other time." He finally lifted his head, his smoky eyes locking onto mine with a desperate, heavy gravity. "So... help me, Cap. I need you right now."

​I went entirely quiet.

​I sat there, staring at him, my mind cataloging everything about Reid McCoy since the moment he arrived on the team.

I thought about how much of an arrogant douchebag he had been this whole time. How he had been constantly screwing me over, pushing me into corners, and taking advantage of my biology. I had spent weeks telling myself how much I absolutely hated him.

​But sitting here right now, looking at his guarded expression, a strange realization settled over me. Did I really hate Reid? Or did I just get angry knowing that I had messed up, let my guard down, and allowed my deepest, most dangerous secret to be found out by the absolute last person on earth I wanted to know?

​In any case, the reality before me was undeniable. The arrogant, obnoxious, first-round prodigy had finally lowered his proud head. He had actually put his ego aside and decided to ask me for help. That was a lot... even for someone like Reid.

​I took in a deep, steadying breath, forced to examine this situation clearly—not just as an angry Omega, but as the Captain of our team, and as a human being who understood the absolute terror of losing your dreams.

​Reid wanted to play hockey. He lived for it, just like I did. And he knew his own flaws; he knew he was too reckless, too stubborn, and that if left to his own devices, he would end up permanently screwing himself over. He needed a guide. A nursemaid, in other words. And for obvious reasons, he couldn’t rely on his family. And for whatever reason, his pride couldn’t let him rely on his agency, or the medical staff. He could only rely on the captain who he currently had a leash around his neck. ℴℴ𝘮

​I paused, the word echoing in my mind. A leash.

​Reid held the ultimate blackmail over me. He had a tight, unbreakable leash around my neck, but right now, he wasn’t using that leash to yank me around. He wasn’t blackmailing me into staying. He wasn’t threatening to expose my second gender to the league if I walked out the door.

​Instead... he was asking for help. He was genuinely asking.

​My heart did a strange, erratic flutter in my chest for a split second.

This was a massive, unprecedented improvement for Reid McCoy. And because he had actually lowered his guard enough to show me his fear, I decided to give him a chance. More like, I decided to render my services to this stubborn prick until his leg could handle his weight.

​But before I could officially agree, there was still a massive, lingering question that had been eating at me all day—one that absolutely needed an answer before we moved forward.

​"Reid," I started, my voice quiet but completely unyielding as I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. "I’ll stay with you. I’ll help you for as long as you need until you properly recover."

​His shoulders visibly relaxed, a faint sigh of relief escaping his lips, but I wasn’t finished. I kept my eyes narrowed, locking him in place.

​"But first," I continued, the intensity in my voice rising, "you have to tell me the truth. Why the hell were you so distracted during practice yesterday morning?"