I try again. This time, I start with something harder, something more biting."I thought I could bury us beneath everything else."
The words sting as I write them, but they feel too cold, too far from the truth. The truth is far messier. I crumple it and toss it into the growing pile on the floor.
Each attempt only brings more frustration, more anger. I want to capture the feeling of her absence, but every line I write feels fake, too clean, too rehearsed. None of it speaks to what I’m really feeling. I want to express the ache, the anger, the desperate longing to reach out and pull her back. But all the words feel like empty echoes.
I drop the pen, my hands gripping the sides of my head as I stare at the discarded pages scattered around me. Nothing is right. Nothing feels close enough. The longer I sit here, the more I realize it’s not just the song that’s wrong—it’s everything.
The chair crashes to the floor as I push away from the desk, a ragged exhale leaving me. I need out of here.
I should’ve gone to the club with the guys, like they suggested. They’ve always had the right idea—find a distraction, throw yourself into something that doesn’t remind you of all the shit you can’t fix. A warm body to bury everything inside of. But I’ve never been that guy. I’ve spent years trying to forget how she felt, how she smelled, the way she used to laugh when everything was right between us. Even now, after all this time, the thought of touching another woman feels like a betrayal, like trying to replace something that’s irreplaceable.
But what choice do I have? She’s gone. She’s not the same. I saw that today. Her smile, that mask she wears—it was all a fucking performance. She doesn't need me, doesn't want me.
Hell, I knew that before seeing her again.
I let out a bitter laugh as I grab my jacket from the back of the chair. She proved it. She's moved on. I’ve witnessed it on the covers of magazines over the years. Even still, with that arrogant fuck, Owen. The Ashlyn I knew would have never chosen a guylike him. And today, I had physical proof. So what the hell am I supposed to do now?
I don’t have an answer, but I don’t want to sit with the silence in my head anymore. The music, the lyrics, everything—it's all become suffocating. I need to forget. I need to lose myself in something else for a while.
Wisteria.
The guys will be there, already losing themselves in the night. The club always has that energy, that raw escape. The kind of place where the noise drowns out all the shit you can’t deal with. And right now, that's exactly what I need. I grab my keys and head out, barely thinking as I slam the door behind me.
The drive is a blur. I barely remember the streets, just the buzzing inside my head, the knot in my chest tightening the closer I get to the club. Wisteria. The lights flashing, the sound of music pounding through the walls—it’s a release. A place to disappear.
The valet takes my keys, and I stride up to the entrance eager for escape. I push through the door, the bass thumping so loud it shakes my insides. The guys are already here, gathered in the VIP section, surrounded by people who don’t care about who we are or where we’ve been. For once, it doesn’t matter. I sit down without saying anything, needing the familiar weight of the glass in my hand.
Jake grins as he hands me a drink. "Good to see you finally show up. You look like you need it."
I don’t reply, just take the drink and throw it back. It burns down my throat, leaving nothing but the heat in its wake. I hold out the glass for a top off and Jake does so with a flourish.
Todd leans back in his seat, eyes scanning the crowd below. "You look like you’re about to tear something apart."
"I just need another drink," I mutter, feeling the anger bubbling up. "Just another way to forget everything. To let go of…"
I stop myself. The words are too close to the truth. Too close to everything I don’t want to face.
Xayden, sitting across from me, eyes narrowed, takes a drag from his cigarette. "Forget about what?"
“Forget about it all,” I say, finally meeting his gaze. “The shit we’ve been through. The shit that still… fucking hurts. Forget her. Forget all of it.”
The words linger in the air, heavy and final. They all know what I mean. They know that Ashlyn leaving fucked me up. Hell, it messed with all of us. I’m just the one that has never been able to forget like they seem to.
There's a long silence, the kind where no one dares to speak because we all feel it. The tension is thick. Then, out of nowhere, she appears.
An omega, her movements deliberate as she slides into my lap, her hand grazing the side of my cheek like she’s been invited. “I can help you forget, Alpha.” Her perfume filters into my nose regardless of the club's descenter. And she smells nothing like the omega I crave.
“The fuck!” I explode, my voice raw as I shove her off me. She hits the floor with a loud crash, her legs tangling in surprise, and the room falls silent as every set of eyes locks on the scene.
I stand over her, chest heaving, my body trembling with anger. The shock on her face does nothing to ease the fury building inside me.
“Hey,” Jake’s voice cuts through the tension, calm and controlled as he steps between me and the omega. His eyes lock with mine. “Take a breath.”
I force myself to inhale, still glaring at him. He inhales too, slow and steady, and after a long moment, I follow suit, letting the air in and out like he’s showing me. He smiles.
“Good,” he says, satisfied that I’m now under control. He throws one last look my way, a silent warning to keep it together, then shifts his attention to the omega still sprawled on the floor. “Hey, sweetheart, you okay?”
His hand extends to her, and the smile he gives her is the kind you’d give someone you were welcoming into your space—not someone your pack mate just sent flying. She hesitates for a second, eyes flicking to me before she takes his hand. He pulls her up, guiding her back to his seat, and I watch as he settles her onto his lap.
