“When they get back tomorrow,” I whisper, “I need to be able to tell them. That you’re back, that we’ve slept together multiple times, that something… that maybe we’re building a pack of four.”
There’s an endless moment of waiting, of her eyes searching mine, of her facing down whatever insecurity is riding her hard right now. And then the moment passes.
“No.”
The word sinks through me, ripping open my chest. I struggle to breathe, to keep enough of the emotions locked away so I can make it out of here and to Rhett’s place. I swallow, nod, and then order a rideshare on my phone.
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice shaking with the effort of holding everything back.
My scent swirls around me, heartbreak turning it acidic. I grab the mini backpack that has an extra set of clothes and sling it over my shoulder along with the purse I used today. I don’t say another word, terrified of what might actually come up, and leave the apartment. She doesn’t follow me, doesn’t text me. When the rideshare finally gets to Rhett’s place, I crawl into Paxton’s bed instead.
PAXTON
Timber drops into the seat next to me on the team’s plane, his eyes focused on his phone. I don’t pull my head off the window, my hands already swelling from the punches I threw late in the third period. Rhett had managed to keep his cool as Carys’s heartbreak ripped through the bond, but her fear and sadness and grief locked my muscles. Maybe I’d have held it together better if I hadn’t also felt Billie. Her emotions were more messy, almost the exact mirror of when she left in December. I’d instigated a fight with only three minutes left in the game just to distract myself from everything going on. I’d gotten a five minute major.
I’d dropped into the temporary locker and just shook out all of the emotions, crying and trembling and dry heaving, ignoring entirely that Rhett had followed me with a terse instruction from Ares. When I’d finally managed to breathe without wanting to throw up, I’d asked him what was happening, and he’d admitted that Billie was back. That she’d been back for nearly a week,staying at Carys’s place. His best guess was that they were fighting.
The rest of the team walked in just as I laid the first punch into him. Ares hadn’t intervened, content to let the two of us work it out, but Miles wasn’t down for that. It had taken three of the guys to pull me off my brother. My knuckles were busted and my lip was bleeding. Rhett’s nose was broken.
Timber sighs and tilts his head back.
“You scent matched with Carys,” he says.
I frown. “How do you know that?”
“You’ve been a mess since her heat,” he says. He gestures toward my hand. “And I noticed that. Betas can’t lay a claiming bite.”
I sigh and shrug.
“Ollie isn’t the first scent match I’ve had. But it… didn’t end well,” he says after a bit, watching the rest of the team load into the plane. “Carys, Ares, Marilyn, the entire team at the time helped me put my life back together when it all blew up, when I learned the truth about her.”
Rhett locks his gaze with me, no apology or regret in his face at all. No, it’s just the look of an Alpha who was doing what he thought was best for his Omega. I can’t even fault him for it. Timber takes in the loaded looks.
“It’s not good to hold stuff in,” he says. “You need to let it out before it twists you up inside and it comes out sideways.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Tell me what happened,” he says. “I’ll probably be able to convince Ares to not bench you the rest of the month.”
With a sigh, I do. It takes most of the flight back to Nashville to tell the entire story. When we land, he blows out a breath and then nods. He disappears into the rest of the milling team without a word.
Chapter Thirty-Six
CARYS
A light flips on, pulling me from a hazy dream with horses and clarinets. I nestle deeper into the pillows, trying to drown out the lingering sadness that weighs down all of my limbs.
“Carys?” Paxton’s voice is soft but shocked. Worry shoots down my sternum a moment before his hand is circling my wrist, gently checking in with me. “What’s wrong? Why are you…”
He trails off. I rub the sleep and tears from my eyes and slowly sit up, forgetting entirely I’m not wearing anything but one of Rhett’s oversized henleys. The neckline slips off my shoulder and halfway down my arm, revealing most of one breast. His eyes flair, his scent pulses out of him, and his hand spasms on my wrist. My nipples tighten, peeking through the fabric, and his throat moves with a heavy swallow.
“Why are you crying?” he asks, his eyes slowly rising from my breasts to my face.
“She came back.” The words are a cracked, broken whisper.
I blink away more tears. His jaw clenches before he nods. He carefully sits beside me, keeping his only point of contact his fingers around my wrist.
“Rhett told me after the game when I felt you both.”
