“Okay...” I said, aware that I was wearing yesterday’s clothes, and that something small and furry had apparently died in my mouth while I was asleep.
“Thanks,” Heath said, and then the call disconnected.
I stared at the phone stupidly for a long moment. Then I rolled out of bed, intent on painkillers, a toothbrush, and the world’s fastest shower.
On the positive side, focusing on my headache was a reasonably effective way to keep from speculating on what might have happened to Knox. I’d wasted a couple of minutes on an internet search for ‘Matthew Knockley hospital,’ and found a handful of headlines about how he’d been rushed away from the Aurora Hotel in an ambulance.
An hour and fifteen minutes after Heath’s phone call had come in, I navigated the patient parking areas outside the hospital’s main campus and headed for the information desk, a greasy brown paper bag containing a fast-food breakfast sandwich and an apple pastry clutched in one hand.
The receptionist cheerfully tapped at her computer, and directed me to a bank of elevators that would take me where I needed to go. In the second-floor waiting area, I found Heath pacing restlessly at the back of the deserted rows of plastic chairs—looking like an alpha who had A) been up all night, and B) wanted rather badly to rip someone’s intestines out so he could use them as a noose.
“Hi,” I said cautiously, when he looked up at me with sharp green eyes. “I brought you some breakfast.” Approaching, I proffered the grease-stained bag. “Would’ve got you a coffee, butI figured hospitals usually provide that as part of the service. How’s Knox?”
Heath stared at the bag for a beat, before a slow blink dispelled some of the barely leashed rage in his gaze, replacing it with exhaustion. He took it from me with a hand that trembled slightly.
“He’s in surgery,” said the alpha. His voice lowered to a mutter. “Again.”
Fresh alarm coursed through me. I didn’t know Knox all that well, since most of my dealings were with Heath. But on those few occasions when I’d interacted with him, he’d always been decent with me. Never made me feel like a stupid kid from the gutter, while he was this rich Chicago business bigwig.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“Pulmonary embolism,” Heath said tightly.
I nodded as though the words meant anything to me. ‘Pulmonary’ was something to do with the lungs, right? Whatever it was, it sounded serious.
“Well,” I replied, trying to seem upbeat. “He’s a strong alpha, and the doctors here are really good. I bet he’ll be fine.” Then, because the awkwardness of trying to have this conversation with Heath six days after I’d had his cock in my mouth was starting to get to me, I added, “So, what did you need me to buy for you?”
Heath, too, seemed to drag himself back on track. “Oh. Yes.” For some reason, the change of topic brought the anger back to his expression. “Basic wardrobe and toiletries for a female, dress size four. Size six in shoes.” His frown deepened. “Nothing in glass bottles—plastic only.”
I blinked. “O... kay? And you want me to take it to the house, you said?”
“Yeah.” Heath set the bag of food on the nearest chair and pulled out his wallet, peeling off a dozen hundred-dollar bills. “Itshouldn’t cost more than a thousand; she’s not exactly going to the Met Gala. Keep whatever you don’t spend.”
There wereso manyquestions here. They were questions I knew better than to ask, though. More than a year into my dealings with Knox’s pack, I’d have had to be blind to miss the fact that omegas in trouble ended up coming and going through the secluded pack house like it was a bus station.
This was just the first time anyone had asked me to buy a full wardrobe for one of them.
I clamped down on any further request for clarification.
“On it,” I said. “I assume someone’ll be at the house to take delivery? Or should I just drop the stuff at the door?”
“Gage is there,” Heath said.
“All right.” I hesitated, my awkwardness rearing its head again. “I hope Knox recovers quickly.”
Heath gave a single, tight nod. Taking it as dismissal, I turned and headed for the elevator bank, already mentally running down the list of big box stores that might have everything I’d need in one place.
“Tony?” Heath’s voice stopped me a few steps before I turned the corner.
I looked back.
“Thanks for the food,” he said quietly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
A stupid, self-destructive little flash of warmth glowed behind my ribcage. I tried to stomp on it, but the embers wouldn’t die.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Don’t mention it.”
A few hours later, I pulled into the long, winding driveway of the pack house with a truly alarming number of bags in the backof my old Volvo. It turned out, you could buy alotof women’s clothes for a cool grand, if you were bargain conscious.
