"People are complicated," I say. "We all carry things that are not visible on the surface."
She looks at me, those hazel eyes searching my face.
"What do you carry?"
The question catches me off guard, but I find I do not want to deflect. Not with her. Not when she has been so honest about her own struggles.
"My brother," I admit. "The weight of never being good enough compared to Bastien. The years of being invisible, beingoverlooked, being the quiet one that nobody expected anything from."
She nods slowly, like she understands exactly what I mean.
"Sounds like we are both carrying more than our fair share."
"Sounds like it."
She smiles then, small but genuine, and takes another bite of her bagel.
"Well," she says around the food, "at least we can carry it together. For the next six weeks, anyway."
"At least," I agree.
And as I watch her eat breakfast in my car, her guard slowly lowering, her walls temporarily set aside, I think that maybe six weeks will not be enough.
Maybe I will want more time than that.
Maybe I already do.
But that is a problem for future Etienne to figure out. Present Etienne is just going to sit here, share this quiet moment with the most intriguing Omega he has ever met, and pretend his heart is not already in danger of falling.
I guess that is the morning plan.
CHAPTER 10
Radio Confessions
~MABELINE~
Etienne's car smells like him.
That should not be a surprise. It is his car. His space. His scent has had years to soak into the fabric of the seats and settle into the dashboard and embed itself in every fiber of the worn cloth interior.
But knowing this logically does not stop my Omega hindbrain from practically purring as I sink deeper into the passenger seat, surrounded by evergreens and old books and that quiet, steady warmth that makes me feel like I could close my eyes and be safe.
Focus, Mae. You are eating breakfast, not nesting in an Alpha's car. Get it together.
The sedan is nothing fancy. No luxury leather or touch-screen displays or any of the flashy upgrades I would expect from an Alpha on a hockey scholarship. Just a clean, practical vehicle with a few textbooks stacked on the backseat, a reusable water bottle in the cupholder, and a small notebook wedged between the center console and the emergency brake.
His writing notebook, maybe?
I want to ask about it, but I am too busy savoring every last bite of the cream cheese bagel like it might be the last meal Iever eat. Which, knowing my track record with mornings, is not entirely outside the realm of possibility.
Etienne turned on the radio when we settled in, letting the low hum of the local station fill the space between bites and sips of coffee. It is comfortable. Easy. The kind of quiet companionship I have not experienced in longer than I care to admit.
The host's voice crackles through the speakers, cheerful and energetic in a way that feels obscene this early in the morning.
"Welcome back, folks! If you are just tuning in, we are here talking about Valenridge University, the brand-new Alpha-Omega academy that has everyone buzzing this season. And joining me today is Coach Rick Holloway, head of the hockey program over at Valenridge. Coach, thanks for being here!"
A gruff, warm voice responds.
