“That one came Monday,” Marley says. “There wasn’t a note or anything with it.”
I nod, then slowly open it, revealing a first edition ofJane Eyre.There’s a note written on the back of the kraft paper, short and simple.
Found one. Hope you put it somewhere it makes you happy.
How in the world had she found one? These are so expensive. I look between the two gifts, the blatant wealth of them both stealing my breath.
“Oh, wow,” Dani whispers, awed. “That looks really cool.”
This time I do let the tears fall, not sure how to process either of their gifts when I haven’t responded to any of their texts. Marley frowns and wraps her arm around my shoulders.
“What happened, Billie?” she asks. “All jokes aside. You can tell us.”
I blow out a breath and give them the whole story, from the first moment I felt interest in Carys before Halloween to the night I flew back here last week. If anyone can help me figure out what I’m supposed to do with all of it, it’s the women who’ve been my friends since Paxton bought me a ticket to a game of his for the very first time.
PAXTON
The Wilder house is more restrained than I expected. Ares has been an incredibly successful assistant coach in the league forover twenty years, and that comes with a wealth similar to what we players accumulate over a much shorter amount of time. Yet the house is only a moderate size, the neighborhood nice but not overly wealthy.
Rhett rings the doorbell tucked just to the left of the happy yellow front door. The door should feel audacious when mixed with the brown-red brick and dark brown trim and shutters. And yet… it works. It adds a punch of vibrancy to something many would call mundane.
I can’t help but think of Carys, the way she lights up every group she’s around, her smile infectious even when she’s nervous or sad. And then I want to throw up, all those nerves rising in my chest and twisting my stomach into a knot.
“Breathe, man,” Rhett murmurs, tucking his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans, his other arm casually holding the box of gifts he’d managed to put together in the last week.
“Easy for you to say right before we spend the holiday withyourgirlfriend.”
He just shrugs.
The desire to punch him rises so fast in me, my hands shake with it. Instead, I scowl and tighten my hold on the bottle of wine I’d grabbed Monday before the game after overnighting a package to California in the hopes it got toherin time for Christmas. A rush of nerves flood under my chest, and I swallow the nasty retort sitting on the tip of my tongue, turning my focus back to the vibrant door.
It’s Ares who opens it, his eyes guarded but not overtly hostile.
“Dad! I can get it!” Carys calls from deeper in the modest house. Ares glances over his shoulder.
“What? You don’t trust me with your boyfriend?” he asks, humor lacing his voice.
Humor.I’ve never heard this man be anything near humorous the two and a half months I’ve been part of the Scorpions. I cast a sideways glance at my brother, but he’s just as surprised as me. So it’s not something Ares does often at all, apparently. Carys squeaks something I can’t quite understand, and then Ares laughs in truth.
“Merry Christmas,” Ares says, turning back to us and standing away from the entrance, letting us both into the house.
Carys rushes into the entryway, her cheeks flushed a dark pink. Mascara lengthens her lashes, framing in her bright green eyes, and a dark red lipstick draws my eyes straight to her mouth. Her hair is pulled back, half of it pulled into a ponytail while the rest cascades in loose waves down her back. Her orchid scent slowly weaves its way toward us, and I can’t help the cypress scent that responds from my own body. I swallow and drop my gaze, nerves and guilt twisting through me. Her unease joins them a minute later, and I nearly scream from all of the undercurrents running between the four of us.
Ares focuses on his daughter, and her unease grows more incessant in my blood. There’s a long, unspoken conversation between them, the kind learned over years of trying to be subtle in large groups. Carys twists her hands in to the skirt of her deep purple sweater dress. Ares nods, then turns to me.
“I can take that,” he offers, holding his hand out for the wine. I hand it over woodenly. “Rhett, you mind helping me?”
The question isn’t at all subtle, and for some reason, I have the desire to laugh at everyone’s audacity in making sure Carys and I are alone in a room for the first time since… I swallow and shove back the half-clear memories I have of that afternoon. Her shoulders relax as it must hit her end of the bond.
“Merry Christmas,” she says, breaking the silence, infinitely braver than me.
When I murmur the same greeting, she blows out a breath. Her eyes search mine, her teeth biting into her lip. Her orchids weave around me again, stronger than before. Her cheeks flush as she looks away, straightening a photo on the table just inside the door.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I… It’s just…” Her throat moves with a heavy swallow, and her scent gets stronger again, and distress edging it. I instinctually move closer to her, carefully grabbing her elbow to soothe the rush of anxiety I can feel from her. It takes me a minute to realize what must be happening with her, something I’ve not actually seen. Most Omegas don’t risk the long-term effects of suppressors, so it’s not all that common.
“You’re touch-sensitive?” It comes out as a question rather than a statement. Her nostrils flare as my scent rushes around us, trying to soothe her, responding to her on that primal level I’ve not really felt before. Not like this, at least.
She only nods, her eyes wide, that anxiety growing larger though slightly different than before.
