"I'm sorry," I whisper against his throat, tears still streaming down my face. "I'm so sorry about everything."
"Shh. No more apologies. This isn't your fault." Xavier's voice is gentle but firm as he carries me toward the stairs. "You're drunk and overwhelmed and we've been acting like territorialassholes instead of the men you deserve. Let's get you cleaned up and into bed. We can figure everything else out tomorrow."
Behind us, I hear the sound of Logan and Griff cleaning up my mess without complaint or accusation. Maybe there's hope for them yet.
But right now, all I can focus on is the steady rhythm of Xavier's heartbeat against my cheek and the way his arms make me feel safe despite everything that's gone wrong.
Right now, I'm just grateful for Xavier's gentle hands and the promise that someone, at least, is willing to take care of me when I fall apart.
Thank you, universe, for turning what should have been a simple conversation about boundaries into me throwing up on their floor while three alphas argue about who gets to claim me next. Clearly, my life needed more chaos and humiliation.
20
XAVIER
Ifind her at The Hollow Tap at half past eight, which is exactly where I expected her to be after spending two hours calling every restaurant, coffee shop, and hotel in Pine Hollow looking for a woman who clearly needed space to process the disaster our pack meeting had become.
We woke up this morning and she was gone. I thought that after seeing her through the night she would feel safe, but clearly she pulled a disappearing act, since neither Griffin nor I handled Logan biting her very well. Of course, he bit her. They have history, real history not like Griff and I who just dated her. Sure, I kissed her, but I didn't wake up to her sweet scent every day, like Logan has done.
The scent hits me before I even push through the heavy oak doors. Vanilla bourbon, but sharp with distress and alcohol, cutting through the usual bar atmosphere of stale beer, fried food, and the kind of ambient misery that comes from people drowning their problems in overpriced liquor. My medical training immediately catalogs the implications: elevated stress hormones, probable dehydration, and the distinct chemical signature that suggests someone has been drinking steadily for at least two hours.
I pause in the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting while guilt sits in my chest like a lead weight. Yesterday's pack meeting was supposed to resolve the tension created by Logan's impulsive bite. Instead, it turned into a territorial pissing contest that proves we haven't matured as much as we'd like to think.
The Hollow Tap hasn't changed since I was in college, all dark wood paneling and vintage beer signs covering every available wall space. The usual after-work crowd fills most of the tables, construction workers and office staff unwinding with cheap beer and loud opinions about whatever sports tragedy is playing on the mounted televisions.
Savannah sits with her back to the room. She's wearing her black sweater, the one that hugs her curves in ways that make my mouth go dry despite the circumstances. Her auburn hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders, and even from this distance, I can see the tension in the line of her spine.
More concerning is the collection of empty glasses arranged in front of her. Three empty wine glasses and what appears to be a whiskey tumbler, currently being refilled by the bartender, who's wearing the expression of a bartender who's starting to worry about his customer's wellbeing.
This is my fault. Not entirely, but enough that I should have come looking for her hours ago instead of staying home to mediate the ongoing argument between Griffin and Logan about pack hierarchy and marking protocol.
I make my way through the crowd noting the way several patrons glance at Savannah with varying degrees of concern and interest. She's beautiful even in distress, which means she's probably been fending off unwanted attention along with whatever emotional processing brought her here.
"Excuse me," I say quietly to the bartender, Jack, as I approach the bar. "Has she been here long?"
Jack, a grizzled man in his sixties who's been serving Pine Hollow's drinking problems for three decades, gives me a look that suggests he's been hoping someone would show up. "Since about one. Started with wine, moved to the hard stuff about an hour ago. She's not causing trouble, but..."
"But she's drinking like someone who's trying to forget something important," I finish, guilt twisting in my stomach because I know exactly what she's trying to forget. "I've got her. Thanks for keeping an eye on her."
Jack nods with obvious relief. “I thought she must be having a real rough day, but I was starting to get concerned."
I settle onto the barstool beside Savannah, close enough to provide support but far enough away to avoid crowding her. My mint and cologne scent probably smells like clinical calm and professional competence, which feels like a lie when my chest is tight with worry and self-recrimination.
"Savannah."
She turns toward me with the careful precision of someone who's had just enough alcohol to affect their coordination but not enough to completely impair their judgment. Her brown eyes are slightly glassy, pupils dilated in the dim bar lighting, but her gaze is still sharp with intelligence and something that looks like barely controlled pain.
"Xavier." Her voice carries only the slightest slur, confirming my assessment that she's intoxicated but still functional. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," I admit, signaling Jack for a club soda with lime. "You left early. I assume you haven’t been here all day.”
"I'm peachy. Can't you tell?" She gestures toward her collection of empty glasses with exaggerated care. "Nothing says 'okay' like drinking in a bar alone while alphas gets to claim you next."
"Savannah, I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
"What happened yesterday was unacceptable. Logan marking you without consent, Griffin treating you like his next conquest, and me failing to shut down that behavior immediately. None of it was okay."
