Eventually, the water runs cold, and I pull myself out before I start shivering.That odd numbness pervades my limbs, threatening to take over until I’m nothing but a shadow.I just want to sleep and not feel.
Cold.
Alone.
Desperate.
Aching.
Wanting.
Grabbing the shirt from the clinic, I curl up in bed and hold it to my chest.Though it doesn’t smell like him, it gives me a bit of comfort.It’s something to hold on to, something to cling to.
In the darkness, my heart throbs, pounding in its misery.As much as I want to cry, I just can’t.There’s nothing left.Depleted.
“You didn’t want me,” I whisper into the shirt as I squeeze my eyes shut.“You never wanted me,” I tell myself, desperate to put the Alpha out of my mind and body.“You just needed an omega.Just like I needed a paycheck.”
The last is a lie, and I know it deep down.But it doesn’t change the facts.I needed to pay my bills, and he needed to fuck a woman who could feed him the lie the clinic offers.
A body and nothing more.
Chapter11
Jason
Numbers bluras I stare at the screen, fatigue tearing at me.Fucking Noelle should have been rejuvenating, but instead, I feel even more exhausted and wretched.I’d think I was sick, but I know better.
I want her.
I need her.
I crave her.
Even now, the damned scent of peppermint pervades my office.Not because of her, but because of this fucking holiday.I can’t escape it.Everywhere I go, it’s holiday spices or damned peppermint.
Glancing out the window, I watch as fat flakes drift in lazy circles over the bustling crowd.Is it possible she’s out there even now, looking at the same wintery scene?God, when did I get so sentimental?
I turn back to my computer screen, but see nothing.So many offshore accounts I need to tend to, but all I want to do is look at hers.A heavy sigh drifts from my lips as I enter her account information.
It’s like rote memory at this point.As soon as I put my fingers on the keyboard, they take over and type in the information as if I’ve known in all my life.Nothing too much out of the ordinary.
And there, like a fucking knife to the heart—Omega Services Compensation - Willoughby Rut Clinic.She’d sold herself.To me.And, if I’m being honest, to someone else if she ever goes back.
Seeing this should satisfy me.It should show how we’re concluded, never to have to see each other again.Instead, it sits there on the screen like a wound that refuses to heal.
The only good thing about all this is that she’s no longer in the negative.Honestly, it’s a breath of relief to see her account glowing in green as opposed to red.Then again, I’m sure she’s far more relieved than I am.
Scrolling, I look over her expenses again, but I know them by heart.I’ve somehow memorized her life, even though I’m not a part of it.Just by knowing her account, I know where she likes to get coffee, where she buys her groceries, and where she allows herself those rare indulgences.
It would be so easy to just run into her at any of those places, but for what?What would be the point?Do I make some grand declaration and ask if she wants to be in a relationship with me?Why?When she doesn’t even really know me?
I’m certainly at an advantage over her.It’s not like she has access to my financial records so she can glean these hidden nuggets.Even if she did, she’d probably be nearly ill with how disparaging our income truly is.
What she spends for a week on groceries, I can easily spend on just a glass of wine.What she saves all month for as a small indulgence, I’ve spent nearly twenty times as much in one day.We are not the same.As much as I wish I could bridge that gap, we never will be.
If she saw my account, would she even listen to me?Would she hear me out if I told her I’ve been in her shoes?Probably not.I sure as hell wouldn’t have.
Thing is, I know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, always wondering if this meal would be your last for a bit.I know what it’s like to make food stretch until you’re about to break.Hell, I know what it’s like to wait until holiday clearance just to get some pajamas to wear all year.Who cares if Santa is on it?
