He starts the truck and begins the drive back to his house, taking the turns carefully like he's worried about jostling me toomuch. The familiar streets pass by the window, and gradually my breathing evens out. The panic recedes, settling back into the constant background anxiety I've learned to live with.
Back at the house, Dylan walks me inside and straight to the couch. Maddox appears from the kitchen, takes one look at me, and disappears again. He returns moments later with a glass of water and a blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders without saying a word.
"Want to talk about it?" Dylan asks, settling next to me.
I shake my head. How do I explain that I just discovered my biological perfect matches and ran away because I'm too broken to accept them? How do I put into words the terror of wanting something so badly while simultaneously being absolutely certain it will destroy me?
"I just freaked out," I say instead, which is true even if it's not the whole truth. "Being in a house full of Alphas, it was too much. They all came out and said good morning and I just... I panicked."
Dylan's arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. "That's okay. That's completely okay. You've been through hell, sis. I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking when I offered you up like that."
"But I really want to try," I say, and I'm surprised by how much I mean it. Despite everything, I want this job. I need this job. Those kids need me, and I need to be needed. "I need this, Dylan. I need to do something useful instead of hiding in your house all day."
"Then we'll figure it out," Dylan muses, running a hand up and down my arm. "Maybe you can work up to it. Start with shorter hours. Whatever you need to make it manageable."
I nod slowly, already planning on how to make this work. Tomorrow I'll set three alarms to remind myself. I'll put the cream in my bag tonight so I can't possibly forget it. I'll be morecareful and more prepared. I'll take care of their kids and help with their house and collect my generous paycheck, and I'll keep my broken Omega self locked away where it can't get me into trouble.
They don't need an Omega anyway. They need help with their kids. That's all.
I can do that. I can be that for them without being anything more.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump. I pull it out, expecting it to be Vincent somehow, some new number he's found to harass me with.
But it's Wyatt.
Hey. Are you okay? You don't have to explain what happened. Just want to make sure you're safe.
The concern in the message makes my chest ache. Another message comes through while I'm staring at the first one.
If you need time, that's fine. No pressure. The job is yours if you still want it.
I stare at the words for a long moment, then start typing before I can overthink it.
I'm sorry about this morning. I forgot something important and panicked. I'd still like to come back if you'll have me. I'll be more prepared tomorrow.
The response comes a few seconds later.
Don't worry about it. Seriously. We all have rough mornings. See you tomorrow at 7?
Yes. Thank you for understanding.
Of course. Get some rest.
I set my phone down and lean my head back against the couch, closing my eyes. Tomorrow I'll be better. Tomorrow I won't run.
I have to believe that, even if I'm not entirely sure it's true.
Hunter
The coffee in my mug has gone cold, a film forming on the surface that I should find disgusting but can't bring myself to care about. The kitchen is quiet now that the kids are down for their nap, the kind of silence that used to be peaceful but now just feels empty, like the house is holding its breath, waiting for something to break.
I'm staring at a photograph that sits on the kitchen table, one I pulled from the living room about an hour ago and haven't been able to put back yet. It's from two years ago, back wheneverything was still whole. The five of us were at the park, Evie in the center, my sister's smile so bright it could power the whole city. She's pressed between Silas and Wyatt, their arms around her, and she looks so damn happy it makes my chest ache to look at it.
Riley is on my shoulders in the photo, her little hands tangled in my hair, laughing at something off-camera. Isaac is just a baby in Wyatt's arms, chubby-cheeked and drooling on Wyatt's shirt. We all look so carefree, so certain that that was how it would always be.
We had no idea we were living on borrowed time.
My finger traces the edge of Evie's face in the photograph, careful not to smudge the glass. She was so happy between Silas and Wyatt. They'd built something beautiful together, the three of them. And I'd been honored to be part of it, to be the head Alpha of a pack that included my baby sister and her two perfect Alphas. It was perfect. My niece and nephew were happy, thriving in the love their mother and fathers poured into them every single day.
