The Hockey Alpha Wants Me

Chapter 9 Jane's Pov

I hated going to the supermarket. Not because of the shopping, not really. It was the people. And today, it wasn’t even crowded. Just a few faces, the hum of the freezers, the squeak of a cart. Safe, ordinary. Until it wasn’t.

I was reaching for a box of cereal when I felt a presence. Not the usual background awareness. This was closer. Closer than it should be.

I turned.

A man, tall, broad-shouldered, his hair dark and eyes sharp, had bumped into me. Not clumsily. Not an accident. He leaned just slightly, enough that our shoulders brushed. Enough that I could feel the confidence radiating off him.

“You okay?” His voice was low, smooth, his eyes scanning my entire body.

“Yeah,” I said coldly. “Watch it.”

He smiled faintly, a tilt of the corner of his mouth, “Didn’t mean to push you. Just... wanted to say hi.”

I didn’t answer. His gaze stayed, holding mine. I felt that familiar irritation rise. Alphas always had a way of doing that. Making the air tighter, sharper. Making your skin crawl and your heart thump faster at the same time.

“Jane.”

My head snapped toward the voice. And there he was. Damian. Standing by the entrance, expression unreadable, but his eyes were fixed entirely on me.

“You—” I started, then cut myself off. “Are you following me again?”

“I’m not following you.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “I had errands. Coincidence.”

I didn’t believe him. Not really. Not with the way he was looking at me now. Focused, unreadable, almost hungry.

The other man, the one who’d bumped into me, straightened. Confidence didn’t leave him, even with Damian there. He stepped closer, subtly, his posture open. Alpha body language at full force. Challenge in his eyes. And not just challenge, interest.

“You’re with him?” The stranger asked casually, but his gaze didn’t leave me.

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“You know,” he said, shrugging. “The guy at the door. He’s staring.” His smile widened slightly, just enough that it felt like a provocation. Like he was daring me to say something. Or daring Damian.

Damian didn’t move. Not yet. He watched, silent. But his jaw tightened. I could feel the tension radiating off him, even without looking directly at him.

I wanted to roll my eyes, to walk away, but something in the way the stranger’s eyes lingered, the way Damian’s wolf whispered warnings, made my stomach knot.

“I’m not interested,” I said firmly, stepping back. “All of you can stop now.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, “Not interested in what?”

“In this.” I gestured vaguely between us. “Whatever this is. Leave me alone.”

Damian finally stepped forward, a single movement, calm but deliberate, “She’s made herself clear.”

The stranger didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down, “She’s said a lot of things before. Doesn’t mean she means them.”

I clenched my fists. I hated the possessive, assessing look they both gave me. I hated how much it unnerved me. And I hated even more how I couldn’t stop noticing it.

“Jane,” Damian’s voice cut through, low. Controlled. Calm. Protective.

I shook my head, stepping toward the nearest aisle, putting the shelves between us. “I don’t need you,” I muttered.

“You always say that,” he replied, following just enough to stay visible but not crowd me.

I stopped, spun on him, “Why are you here? Seriously. I’m not kidding, Damian. Stop following me.”

“I told you, errands.” His lips twitched slightly, like he was trying not to smile. “Coincidence. Pure coincidence.”

I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. But the stranger didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped closer, still confident, still testing. I could feel the unspoken tension, the silent measurement of strength between the two of them.

“Impressive,” the stranger said, finally breaking the silence. “Your friend seems protective.”

Damian didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The look he gave the man said everything.

I groaned inwardly and stepped away, deciding I wasn’t going to entertain either of them. “I’m done here,” I said flatly. “I’m leaving.”

And I did.

I left them both standing there, staring after me, words unspoken. I didn’t glance back. I didn’t need to.

When I returned to Geneva, she was smirking, the cart already half-full, “Well? Did you see him?”

I frowned, “Who?”

Geneva pointed casually toward the exit, still grinning, “The Alpha. Tall, dark, handsome. Bumped into you. Exactly your type.”

I crossed my arms, trying not to show how flustered I felt, “Not interested.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you said. But come on. You saw him. Bold, confident... dangerous. And you didn’t even flinch for long.” She leaned closer, voice dropping. “He’s notorious. Only interested in adding to his body count. Not exactly boyfriend material.”

I felt a flush rise, mostly annoyance, “Thanks for the warning.”

Geneva tilted her head. “I’m serious. And—” She hesitated, then added carefully. “Damian’s constant hovering? It should make you feel safe.”

My chest tightened. That comment hit harder than I expected. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to think about it, but it left a weird knot in my stomach. Damian following me. Damian watching. Damian appearing everywhere at once.

I gritted my teeth, trying to shove the feeling down. “I don’t need anyone making me feel safe,” I said, more sharply than I intended.

Geneva raised an eyebrow, “Sure about that?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that my mood had soured. All I knew was that my reactions, my thoughts, my frustrations—it was too much. Too much for a normal day at the supermarket. Too much for Damian. Too much for me.

Without another word, I left the cart behind and walked quickly toward the bathroom. Geneva called after me, “Jane?” But I didn’t stop. I needed space. I needed quiet. I needed to think.

Inside, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. My hands were shaking slightly, which annoyed me. I hated that. I hated that I couldn’t just handle this like I usually did.

Why did today feel so heavy? Why did everything—everything—about Damian feel like a push and a pull I couldn’t control?

I let out a long breath, steadying myself. My reflection in the mirror showed sharp eyes, clenched jaw. I looked calm. Collected. But I didn’t feel it.

I splashed cold water on my face, letting the shock of it wake me, focus me. Tried to separate the emotions from the facts. Damian. The stranger. Geneva’s teasing. The tight, suffocating tension that followed me everywhere.

It was all too much. But I needed to understand it. I needed to process it. Needed to make sense of why everything about today—and Damian—felt so frustratingly intense.

I stayed there, in the quiet, cold bathroom, until my heartbeat slowed, until my thoughts cleared enough to step out again. Until I felt like I could face the world—or at least the rest of the supermarket—without snapping at the next person who dared breathe too close.

When I finally opened the door, I didn’t see Damian or the stranger. Just the empty aisle, the hum of the fluorescent lights above. And that was enough.

For now.