“I don’t want it to influence whatever this conversation’s about to be,” she admits, messing with another picture. “Sorry it called out to you like that.”
I shake my head.
“No, it’s all right. It won’t influence any more than the bond might,” I admit.
She gives a small smile, then pulls her hands behind her back, turning to focus entirely on me. My own nerves rise, but I shove them back down. One of us clogging the bond with worry is plenty.
“I’m sorry.” It seems the best place to start.
She swallows but doesn’t nod, doesn’t accept the apology. “When did you realize we were matched?”
Saying it for the second time isn’t any easier. “The day you met Billie. You whispered something, and I caught a faint trail of your scent.”
“And you never said anything because you love Billie,” she says it without any inflection at all, just stating a fact. There’s not even anything from her side of the bond. I nod. She bites her lip again. “Have you talked about building a pack? Was that ever on the table before this happened?”
She gestures between the two of us.
“No, it wasn’t. It never… we didn’t develop like that. I don’t know if it’s something she would be open to now.” Her scent gains an edge to it again. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep from reaching for her. She takes a half-step closer. I sigh. “She said she needed time to process everything. I’ve not heard anything from her since she left last Tuesday.”
I trip over the words, my voice catching. Cypress churns around me, soured by my despair. Carys takes another small step, carefully grabbing my wrist in a delicate hold. Calming me, like she’s the Alpha and I’m the Omega on the verge of a breakdown.
“It feels weird deciding anything when she’s not here to have a say in it all,” she admits after a minute, when my scent has dissipated. “But she’s not responded to any of my texts. And… and if the last six weeks with Rhett have shown me anything, it’s that me being touch-sensitive isn’t going to get much better. I was on suppressors for nearly four full years. The current research suggests that my side effects are probably permanent.”
Four years of suppressors. Jesus Christ.
“Yeah, they might be,” I agree.
“It probably means I don’t have the luxury to sit down with her first,” she says.
The fact that I agree doesn’t make the unease lessen. I take a deep breath and set the hard line. Hopefully it’s one Billiedoesn’t hold against me. “I can’t sleep with you. Not until I talk with her. But… but everything else, if you need it, I’ll give it to you.”
Her cheeks flush. “That’s not—” She swallows. “I mean… Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”
I pull my hand from my pocket and circle her wrist, reversing our holds. She settles at once, her eyes blowing out. I say, “I don’t know how to… Friendship like this, I mean. Where the lines are blurry. I’m not really sure how to navigate it. Is this okay with you? This level?”
She nods. I swallow.
“Okay. We’ll figure it out one day at a time, then. But if Billie chooses to not expand into a pack?—”
“Then we won’t expand it,” Carys says in firm agreement.
Chapter Thirty
RHETT
The next week passes with little change.
Carys spends nearly every waking hour trying to keep up with the volume of orders coming through the shop. Billie doesn’t text Carys or my brother. Paxton’s game is absolute shit on the ice. Ares is cagey as hell during practice and games, doing his best to keep Paxton’s involvement in Carys’s heat a secret. And the dynamic between all three of us is weird as all fuck. Paxton spends both night we’re in Nashville with Carys and me, watching cheesy 90s rom-coms that haven’t aged all that well. They barely touch, Paxton holding her wrist just long enough that her every-present panic over being without contact subsides and then leaving a careful six inches of space between them. Neither of them want to add fuel to the fire that’s burning around all of us, especially with Billie’s continued silence, but I can feel Carys’s growing restlessness.
All in all, everything is awkward, and I fucking hate it.
My phone vibrates with a message just as I’m getting out of the Supra and handing its keys to the club’s valet. I roll my eyes at Jackson’s name on the screen, ignoring the text in favor ofhelping Carys out of the passenger seat. She takes a minute to adjust her black and pink sequined dress, pulling the hem down just a bit, and then puts on the overly large masquerade-style mask she’d spent the morning making.
You still coming? Only an hour to go.
Just pulled in through the valet.
I put on the small domino mask and then wrap my arm around Carys’s waist.
