Prologue
14 years ago
I stare at my phone, willing it to light up.
It doesn't.
Seven texts sent. Zero replies.
He's over fifty minutes late.
The cardboard box at my feet bumps my ankle when I shift. One big box. That's it. Clothes, a few textbooks, my laptop with a sticky H key. All my things for the start of college, taped shut in brown packing tape.
"Another refill, sweetheart?" The barista, Jennifer according to her tag, appears with a steaming coffeepot, her scent warm and comforting. She's definitely a beta.
I wrap my fingers tighter around my cup. "I'm good, thanks."
She pauses, taking in the box under the table and the empty seat across from me. Her smile softens. "Alright. You just holler if you need anything."
The espresso machine shrieks to life behind her. Milk froths. Someone laughs. The air is thick with coffee and the bright fizz of excited omegas and alphas waiting to move into their dorms.
I tap my phone awake again. No new messages. The last thing from Daniel is an hour-old "on my way." I've called him six times since. The first few rang out. The last ones went straight to voicemail.
Which means either his phone died, he turned it off, or—
Maybe he blocked me.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "He wouldn't."
We've been together since sophomore year. Before he presented as an alpha and I as an omega, about two months ago. And most importantly… we're scent matches.
He wouldn't just ghost me. Would he?
The door chimes. My heart jumps, my head snaps up.
Not him.
A girl my age walks in, flanked by her parents, all three of them glowing. The dad wears a faded GO STORMWOLVES hoodie and, once they're seated, the mom snaps pictures of her daughter holding her acceptance letter.
They order lattes and talk about roommates and orientation and "your first night on campus!" like this is the opening montage of a coming-of-age film.
I can't really blame them, though. This is how it's supposed to be. The excited family send-off, the tearful goodbyes and promise of new beginnings, and all.
I blow out a long, slow breath.
My parents dropped me here two hours ago. Dad rushed to his hospital shift, Mom to a client meeting. They trust me to handle things. I always handle things.
I just thought I'd at least be handling the start of law school with Daniel beside me.
My phone buzzes.
I lunge for it so fast I slosh cold coffee onto my knuckles. My heart trips, then sprints.
Daniel.
Finally. Everything's fine. He probably got stuck in traffic, or his battery died and he had to find a charger—
I've been thinking, and I can't do long distance like this. I won't let biology decide my future, and you should do the same. Better if we get a clean break now.
