It’s been two days. The fact that they haven’t called back has a sinking feeling in my heart. What if something terrible happened to them too?
“Can I have my phone?” Piper reluctantly hands it to me. I look at their social media and nothing has been posted. So I click over to their agent’s, Jake Lawson. His first picture is of him and the guys holding up the teams they’ve been drafted to. I sigh and click on his stories.
That’s what ends me.
I click through and see videos, clips, and pictures of Jake and my Alphas partying. They were partying while I watched my mother die. Not only that, but there are tons of beautiful women around them in every picture. They went on a two-day bender while I laid in the hospital.
I could understand maybe a day of not answering me, but after dozens of calls, nothing? Betas had their tits basically in their face, and they were celebrating while I was at the lowest of lows. There’s a part of me that is trying to be understanding, but as I click through each story, my anger and frustration grow. Pictures of Eli dancing on a table, Anders singing karaoke, a girl’s elbow over Mikael’s shoulder. I toss the phone back to Piper and put my head between my knees.
It’s time to leave before I get left again. This won’t work. This is how it will always be, me alone and hurt and them out living their best lives as hockey superstars. We were so fucking stupid. I was so goddamn stupid. Everyone leaves me, and it’s best that I end this now before it gets even worse.
“Block their numbers,” I say to Piper.
“Charlotte, you’re in shock. This is a lot. Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.”
The warm spray hits my skin as I slump down onto the floor, my knees bent and my arms wrapped around my legs. I don’t cry, I don’t think I have it left in me. My mom is gone.
She’s fucking gone, and it’s my fault. If I would have called an ambulance, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If I would have taken care of her, made sure she saw the specialists more frequently… She depended on me, and I let her down.
Why did I drive her? Why did I think that would get her to the hospital quicker? I wasn’t in my right mind, and I wasn’t paying attention. The guilt felt consuming before the suppressants, but I can feel it releasing me.
It’s almost like I feel nothing, like I’ve detached myself from my reality. It’s better this way, not feeling anything. Because if I truly let it sink in—that I’m the reason she’s gone—I’m not really sure how I’d be able to live with myself.
It’s probably why they haven’t answered my calls. I’m not worth it, and I’ll never be worth it. I’ll never be more important than hockey. And I shouldn’t be. Surely if I couldn’t help my mother when she needed me the most, there’s no way I could be a strong enough Omega for a pack of professional athletes.
I deserve this hurt. It feels like cosmic justice in the most fucked up way, and it’s up to me to take the penance. I wasn’t there for my mom, they weren’t there for me. We might have been scent matches, but it’s clear as day that now… now we’re nothing.
The warm water continues to hit my skin, but I don’t feel anything. All I feel is like a deep void of a person.
I have nothing left. I’ll need to continue to take care of myself to some extent. But not for me, for Hank and Piper, the only people who are truly there for me, that still need me here. I can do this, even if I’m never the same, they still need me. And that will have to be enough.
The acceptance of everything I’ve lost flows through me as I realize what I have to do. Somehow I manage to bathe myself, even with my fucked up arm. I dry myself and get dressed, then sit on my bed and stare at the wall. The macrame that I never put back up lies on the floor, and the pink wall is empty. It feels metaphorical, but I’m too fucked up to put the pieces together.
“Come to New Haven with me,” Piper says, sitting on my bed.
“Okay,” I say back. “As long as Hank can come.” The choice is clear, what else can I do? Sit here and wither away? Going somewhere where they can’t find me, not that they would want to, makes the most sense.
“I’ll have to find out about my renter’s pet policy, but we’ll make it work.”
“When?”
“When do you want to leave?” she asks. I look around my room. At the pink walls my mom painted when I was five, at the height chart in the corner, and the chandelier that my dad let me pick out at Home Depot.
“Tonight.”
“Alright, pack your stuff up, and let’s go.”
I sit down on my bed, and I do what’s best. I write a letter, well, an email. They didn’t have the time or need to call me back, so I don’t feel guilty over the blunt and brutal nature of the email.
Anders, Eli, and Mikael,
It’s over. I’ve blocked your numbers. I can’t do this anymore. Timing has never been on my side. Maybe if we met at a different time or if circumstances were different, it would have worked. I need to be by myself, and I can’t do that moving state to state with each of you. I need to be with someone who can be there for me, so that’s what I’m doing. Please don’t try to reach out, it would be too painful right now.
I’m being taken care of, and this is what I want.
Congrats on the draft.
