She types again, slower this time, and pushes the phone so all three of us can see.
I can talk. But it’s not good. I sound terrible. But the three of you make me feel safe to try.
The room goes still. As if all the air has been sucked out. My hand goes to my chest to check if I’m still breathing.
Bayleigh braces both palms on the counter, closes her eyes like she’s gathering strength from somewhere deep—and then she speaks.
“Th…ank you…” She pauses, swallowing before continuing, “for… lett-ing me… stay here.”
Her voice is soft, strained at the edges, consonants warped like she’s pulling them from rusted hinges. It’s the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve ever heard, and I know they’re thinking the same thing.
Korbin looks like someone unplugged his whole life. Lincoln—Lincoln’s eyes shine instantly, red-rimmed, full.
He moves first.
He grabs her around the waist and lifts her clean off the ground, spinning her in a full circle. She squeaks and then lets out this breathless, bright laugh that I want to bottle up and keep forever.
Lincoln sets her down like she’s made of something holy.
Now it’s my turn. I step forward, making sure she sees every word I say. That she feels it. “You sound beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush pink, eyes darting away in embarrassed delight.
Then she turns to Korbin.
Korbin smiles and shrugs. “Sounds like a voice to me.”
Bayleigh laughs softly—and before anyone can process it, she steps forward and hugs him.
Full arms-around-his-middle. Cheek pressed to his chest. Warm. Trusting. Real.
Korbin freezes like she just hit him with a stun gun. His hands hover awkwardly—then, slowly, he rests them on her back, just for a second.
When she steps away, he clears his throat and looks everywhere except at her.
She walks back to Lincoln, shyer now, but glowing.
I can’t help but grin when I catch Korbin shifting, subtly adjusting his pants. I have to bite the inside of my cheek so as not to smirk. There’s no way I want to make our girl feel uncomfortable. Especially not after she gave us the greatest gift ever. Letting us hear her speak.
Bayleigh talked.
For us.
35
Korbin
I spendthe entire day pretending nothing happened. Pretending I didn’t hear Bayleigh speak and her voice didn’t hit me like a blade made of hope and hurt. Pretending the omega’s arms around my waist didn’t short-circuit something in my chest that I haven’t felt since… hell, since before Gina tore everything apart inside me.
I tell myself it was nothing. That it was shock or instinct. A leftover high from the adrenaline of last night. A fluke reaction from an alpha system that doesn’t know the difference between “mine” and “danger” anymore.
But I woke up this morning with the feeling burned into my skin.
She hugged me. I held her, and every feral, buried part of my alpha screamed at me not to fucking let go.
So, I do what any emotionally stunted alpha with too many issues and not enough free therapy options does; I run.
I push myself down the icy sidewalk until my lungs feel like they’re being peeled open. Until my thighs are burning. Until sweat soaks through my shirt in the freezing air and mypeach and honeydew scent is sharp and overstimulated—anger, confusion, something too close to longing bleeding off me in hot waves.
