My crown’s a little lopsided afterOmega in Paradise. But I’ll find my confidence again. I know it. Even if returning to Blue Ridge, Georgia—the one place I swore I’d never see again—is a different kind of punishment. It’s the antithesis of New York City, but maybe it’s what I need.
Although, right this second, I’m going insane with boredom. Ship me back to The Big Apple, anything’s better than this. Three days of isolation in this mausoleum, and I’m ready to claw at the walls. Even the insults from strangers on the city streets would be better than this.
So when I hear my mother’s voice echoing through the front hall, I head over, desperate for anything that isn’t my own thoughts. Even her company’s better than being alone in this house of memories.
Desperate times, right?
I step into the foyer, and she locks eyes on me, raising a finger as she finishes her phone call. The gesture slams me backto summers spent here, always the interruption, always in the way. I shove the thought aside—no,I’m stronger now. I’m a bad bitch. People are lucky to share my air. Nothing can touch me.I repeat the mantra until it feels real again. Fake it til you make it, right?
Finally, she ends the call. “Chadwick, I didn’t realize you were home,” she says, her tone airy, but the words hit like a slap to the face.
I force a smile. “I’ve been back for days.”
She doesn’t respond, her eyes already scanning me, looking for things to pick apart. “Stop pouting like that,” she scolds. “You’ll get lines in all the wrong places.”
“Where are you going?” I cut in, not bothering to tell her I wasn’t pouting and redirecting the conversation before she can tear me down any further. My eyes flick to the purse she’s clutching.
Her face brightens instantly. “The country club. You should join me. That friend of yours from your teens will be there. What was his name? Darrel? Drew?” She frowns, creating a deep crease between her brows that would have her at the Botox clinic if she saw it.
“Dean,” I correct, the name leaving my mouth too sharply. “And he wasn’t a friend.”
He was an obsession. My first heat, and I was like a moth to his flame, ready to burn. What happened was more of a nightmare than a love story. When he found out I had a thing for him—let’s just say it wasn’t the romantic scene I’d envisioned. More like a horror flick, with me as the crazy omega throwing myself at him. And him—God—I don’t even want to think about it.
She waves a dismissive hand. “Well, he’s packless now. Very eligible.”
I swallow. Hard. She clearly doesn’t remember how we were found. I wish I didn’t.
Damn it.
Even after everything, just the thought of him makes my skin flush. I can still recall the first hit of his musk—crisp, like a foggy mountain morning, the kind of fog that clings to your legs as you walk. And the feel of him pressed against me during that brief moment, imprinted on me like a brand. His lips hot against mine.
Before I can stop myself, the words slip out. “I’d love to get out of the house.” I snap my mouth shut, regretting the words instantly. Maybe being alone is better.
Her face lights up, but it’s short-lived. Her eyes trail down to my gray sweats and the light blue T-shirt I threw on earlier. “Go get changed. I’ll wait.” Her voice leaves no room for argument, and the way she hikes her purse higher on her shoulder makes it clear she won’t be swayed. I’m just lucky she didn’t bark the command.
Yet.
There’s still time.
Knowing there’s no escaping now that I’ve agreed, I take the stairs two at a time, the sick thrill of possibly seeing the alpha I was half in love with fueling my steps. Not that he’ll even acknowledge me if he recognizes me. And I sure as hell won’t approach him. I’m not the same lovesick kid who would’ve dropped to my knees at his feet from a mere glance.
Still, the anticipation hums through me as I quickly pull on something more appropriate. I should be dreading the inevitable awkwardness if I run into Dean at the country club—his knowing look, the unspoken history hanging between us like a weight. But instead of dread, it’s this electric buzz, like I’m about to step into the ride of my life.
When I return downstairs, my mom’s gaze sweeps over me before she pivots toward the front door, pulling it open.
"That didn’t take long," she says, her voice sharp, like she expected nothing less.
"It doesn’t take much when you’re perfect," I shoot back, forcing a grin, but the sting of her words settles deep, even if I pretend it doesn’t.
I don’t hate my mother. I don’t even hate my father. But I’ve always known my place in their world—a final piece to complete their perfect picture, never more than a requirement. They needed a son, a perfect one, and I never quite fit the mold. I’m sure they were both disappointed when I didn’t turn out to be an alpha. Omegas need emotion, connection, affection—things they never bothered to give me. So I searched for it elsewhere… like with Dean.
He fed that longing inside me. A brush of his hand, a smile—simple gestures that felt like lifelines, things I didn’t get anywhere else. No wonder I became obsessed. His kindness was a drug, and I craved it until it ruined everything.
My fingers tap a restless rhythm on my knee as my mother drives the short distance.
She sighs—annoyance? Disappointment? Who knows. But she doesn’t comment on my fidgeting.
That’s new.
