Kill me now.
I give up, and the treadmill deposits me on the cold, padded floor like the sad package I am as it continues slowing down. I drop onto my back and lie there, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling of my basement, wondering if I should bother opening my mouth again.
Who says that to the person they’ve been waiting to talk to all week?
She’s still completely silent on the other end, which makes it even worse.
The seconds stretch on, and I think I’ve screwed it up already. Ollie won't be interested in a gym bro, if I even am one. Especially when I’m panting away like a moron, and she’s probably wondering if it's better to just hang up.
I force my breathing to calm down, and the silence ekes on. Tension grows as I begin to suspect this isn’t some call to see if I want to do something normal like grab a coffee or fuck in the park at night.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up as worry spikes through me. “Ollie? What’s wrong?”
She sucks in a breath, and my heart drops. The silence blooms between us again, and my throat goes tight.
“What do you need, Ollie? I’m right here.”
“Kane,” she whispers so softly my heart catches in my throat. I feel like I’m going to break. “Can you tell me a story?”
“Do you want to know all my dirty secrets? Or do you want your alpha to rock you to sleep?”
There’s more silence, and I sigh as I push my hand against my forehead. The next time they do a character bio for the team website, I’m adding ‘never knows when to shut the hell up’ to my list of unique skills.
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what you want, sweetness.”
There’s a tiny noise at the end, and I hope it’s a moan, but her voice is too vulnerable.
I’ve been waxing lyrical since I met her about what an amazing alpha I’m going to be for her, and I’m failing at the first hurdle.
“I just want something to fill the space,” she murmurs, and my eyes shutter closed.
I’m a sick bastard for being happy that she’s hurting. Because she wouldn’t have called me if everything was hunky-dory. If she were fine, she’d just keep sending me those one-word replies, like they’re an obligation rather than something special, like they are for me.
But this is what I want: to hear my omega next to my ear. I can barely pick up her softest breaths, but it’s all I really need. For her to reach out, for her to be the one who wants to connect with me.
Every night when I have that dream about Timber, I ache for her. I want my omega by my side to say it’s okay to be so fucked up, and now she needs that from me.
And if that isn’t the best fucking feeling in the world, I don’t know what is.
So, I need to be her alpha.
My sweat is cooling, but I won’t move even if I start shivering in case I break the moment any more than I already have.
“Did you know my two front teeth are fake?” I ask.
More silence follows, but there’s a crinkle behind her, like she’s shifting around on something, before she finally replies.
“Are you joking?” she asks.
“Now, I wouldn’t lie to you. Seriously, you’ll never believe how I lost them.”
Shifting my hips on the padded floor, I lay my head on the end of the still treadmill belt, getting comfortable so I can talk to my omega.
It’s hard to keep my excitement out of my voice because my heart is dancing. I’ve pressed my phone so hard against my head that my ear is going numb. I just need to be close to her that badly.
“It was way back in first grade when we were playing tag. I was running around the park when I saw a cute pit bull. I love those beefy guys. And bang! I raced at full speed straight into a freaking tree. Can you believe it? If I’d been a beaver, I would have been safe, but my head was at just the right angle for both my teeth to pop out and stay stuck on the tree as I fell to the ground.”
I wait to see if she’ll reply, but it’s a tough crowd.
