Her Knotty List (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 4)
Her Knotty List: Chapter 43

Hockey Boy is truly a terrible sport.

Which is hella ironic.

“You know who you look like?” I ask conversationally, adding more chicken stock to our cart. “Grumpy Cat.”

His glower intensifies, which just makes my statement more true. He denies it, though. “I do not.”

“Sure do,” I chip, counting limes. “You know, tacos aren’t very festive for Christmas. We should get a ham. And some heavy cream. I’ll make an actual holiday meal at some point.”

Gunnar shuffles behind me, shrugging and sighing, but never outright complaining. I suspect he wants Emma to have a nice holiday, even if he hates this stuff.

“So, tell me,” I go on, still aiming for casual. “What’s the bah-humbug up your butt?” I inspect a truly beautiful beef tenderloin before chucking it into the cart. “Did you have an ex cheat on you at the company Christmas party or something? Wait. Do hockey teams have company Christmas parties?”

His brows lower even further. The guy’s going to get crow’s feet like Knox if he keeps scowling like this, I swear.

“No,” he huffs. And I think that’s it; until I see the way he swallows hard.

I stop, turning and giving him a pointed look. “Then what’s your problem?”

Gunnar is actually really good-looking—but when he glares, it’s pretty fucking scary. I hold my ground, though, invested.

We’ll never be able to form the pack Emma deserves if we can’t sort our shit out. Given that she’s about to go into heat, he needs to exorcise whatever holiday demons are perched on his shoulders.

The longer we stare at each other, the less resolved he seems. Eventually, with a heaving sigh, he flings his eyes away and mutters, “My mom died this year, okay? And it’s just weird. Doing Christmas stuff and knowing I won’t—I won’t see her again.”

Fuck.

I drop the box of breadcrumbs in my left hand and lurch forward, dragging him into a hug. “Shit,” I spit, guilt and worry washing through me. “Gunnar, man, I’m so fucking sorry. That—I had no idea.”

He’s stiff against me, but I don’t let go. I’m going to hug this guy, damn it. He’s clearly in hell and hasn’t even told any of us. So, he’s just been… alone in this? The whole time?

The longer I hold on, the more his muscles loosen. “When did it happen?” I ask.

His posture falls slack, swaying closer to me. “In June.”

My eyes squeeze on a vicarious jolt of pain. “I’m sorry, Gunnar,” I say again, speaking over the lump in my throat. “I’ll stop giving you shit for⁠—”

I almost say “being an ass.” But, really, he isn’t being an ass. He’s grieving.

His arms flinch, then slowly move to hug me back. Holding on to me, actually. “Don’t,” he mumbles. “I think it’s actually helping.”

I hold him right back, confused by the rattle at the base of my lungs. The fuck am I purring for? And is he… reciprocating?

Our bodies seem more comfortable with each other than we are. We sort of sink together in a way I’ve never experienced with another alpha.

He feels good, though. When I tuck my chin over his shoulder and he turns his face into my neck, I have the sneaking suspicion he agrees.

This big, grumpy hockey player enjoying a simple hug so much sends a pang through my chest. It’s also sort of amusing, in a pleasant-surprise sort of way.

I laugh quietly, giving him one final squeeze before I step away, winking. “I’ll keep fucking with you then. Emma can help me come up with some new material.”

His cheeks are pink as he steps back, but he smiles to himself. “She’ll like that.”

I push our cart forward, distracting myself with the various brands of baker’s chocolate lined up on the nearest shelf. I grab two of my favorite kind and realize, “You haven’t told Emma yet, have you?”

He sighs at his feet. “No. I didn’t want to ruin her holiday. And it feels like a piss-poor excuse for where I’ve been all year.”

My brows arch because I personally can’t think of a better excuse for falling off the face of the Earth. Emma would totally understand.

“I think you should tell her,” I suggest. “I can help if you want.”

Gunnar looks at me for a long moment. “Yeah,” he finally says, like he’s testing the taste of the word. “Maybe.”

The town’s only nesting store is pretty… uh… sparse.

I wince while we wander the aisles, all three of us trailing behind Emma while she parses her limited options. This might be something for me to think about. If I’m going to try to stay with Emma, and Emma is staying here?

Well, I better start earning cashback on international shipping or something.

By the time we check out, I’m antsy and unhappy in a way I didn’t anticipate. I like nice things, that’s no secret—but it’s more than that.

This is about Emma.

She deserves better than the four flat pillows and two threadbare blankets this place has in stock. I can tell her selections have stressed her out, too.

When I reach around her and hand the guy behind the counter my credit card—because Knox can suck my dick if he thinks he’s getting credit for her nesting supplies without actually coming to the damn store—she says “thank you” in her small, uncertain voice. The one I hate because it means something is wrong and she doesn’t know how to tell us.

I hug her from behind. “Don’t worry, shona. I’ll take you into the city before your heat starts, and we can get anything you want.”

Gunnar slides my card back to me and puts his down. “Or we can order stuff,” he points out, plucking up her hand to kiss her palm. “Whatever you want, squirt.”

Micah drops his own credit card into the mix, as if he doesn’t make a firefighter’s salary. I snort and shove it back at him. Gunnar takes advantage and wins our squabble by tapping the keypad first.

“Dick,” I chip cheerfully, per his request that I keep giving him shit.

He rolls his eyes with a smile while Micah snatches Emma away from me. “Hey!” I protest, whirling. “You already got your time!”

That was clear the second we saw them. His frosty scent and her warmth were mingled into a very festive blend. Then our excited omega told us they’d scratched exhibitionism off her list.

Honestly? Good for Micah. I didn’t know the noble, nice guy had it in him.

Whatever they did left the biggest smile on the guy’s face. Every time he looks at her, he practically melts.

I mean… same.

Emma sort of loves it when we fight over her. She tries to bite down on the sly little smile that crosses her face, but I love it enough to keep up our tug-of-war all the way to the truck.

Micah finally wins because he has to drive this monstrosity, and our princess gets shotgun, of course. Still, the way he buckles her in and then pauses to make out with her for two minutes is just rude. Way to rub my nose in it.

“All right, all right,” I grouse, slamming the truck bed shut and rounding the car, leaving all my precious groceries in the back. “Let’s get back to Daddy. He said we needed to be home before dark because of the roads.”

Micah pulls back just as Emma’s scent burns slightly. The fireman closes her door and shoots me a look. As if it’s my fault that Knox had his head up his ass earlier.

Gunnar looks between the two of us and gruffs out a grunt. “Maybe Daddy needs an ass-kicking for Christmas.”