I refuse to look backward. I do not and never will regret the sacrifices I made to stay by his side, sharing his joy when something went right.
I accept and acknowledge the actions I took to ensure to support him, ensuring he had what he needed. Even when it involved a bit of blackmail or other underhanded means. I built my life around him, and I’ve reaped rewards.
Yet I’ve spent so much time caring for him, and, at the last, fearing and worrying that the worst would happen and he’d go—and now that he has, I’ve no idea what comes next.
For the first time in decades, my future is an almost-blank slate.
An empty void.
Yet, for all that I knew Max body, heart, and soul, even as late as the service, I hadn’t realized that he, too, realized he might go first and, with his usual irritatingly mad genius, made arrangements.
Meddled with my life one last time.
Chapter 2
Lost Love
JOHANNA
Sitting through the memorial service was one kind of hell, surviving the reception after quite another.
Spine straight against the chair back, I sneak peeks to either side. Barely an empty seat to be seen, such a crowd gathered. The neutralizers prevent identifying anyone by scent unless I get close, yet even relying on sight and sound, there are too many people. Family, yes—a chosen few of Max’s and those of mine who lived close by. Nearly everyone from our company has shown up, from administrative assistants to the scientists who worked alongside him, all brilliant in their own right. A handful of friends—or at least tolerant acquaintances, as Max would admit he was something of an acquired taste—and half of my book group regulars cluster in a far corner.
Here and there are faces I don’t want to recognize. Fortunately, I blink, and they’re lost as some of the crowd start to stand.
In all, too many people. Too many voices talking in hushed tones. Phrases float through the air, repeated over and over:such a loss, quite a character, he’ll be missed.
After a deep, shuddering breath I swallow hard and scope out escape routes.
Caity, my youngest honorary niece, foils my attempt before it can begin. She held my hand in hers during the service, and now, her fingers shift to wrap around my wrist. She’s a third my age, nineteen to my fifty-seven, and a dominant alpha to my beta, both of which make her the stronger in body and will. People rarely guess the alpha part on first meeting her for she’s all lean height and pale skin hiding wiry muscles under a flippy dark brown ponytail, her skin pinker than her father’s, but with the same coral undertones.
“You promised Dad not to run away.” She wags a finger at me. “I’ll be with you the whole time, or he will, and we won’t let anyone pry much. Scout’s honor.”
“That would be more convincing if you’d ever been a scout.” I stand and brush wrinkles from my skirt, twitching as the lace shifts beneath.
“On Uncle Max’s honor, then.” Caity leans her head on my shoulder. “I miss him, too, Aunty Jo.”
From their seats on my other side, her older sisters crowd in, enveloping me. Three of them—too many for me to escape. Their tears dampen my otherwise dry cheeks. Their arms rest loose and heavy, on my shoulders and around my back. This close, notes of their familiar, welcome scents enfold me despite the neutralizers blasting overhead: lilac for Anamaria, the oldest and an omega like Max; grapefruit, very faint, from Bebe who, like me, is a beta; and balsamic vinegar from Caity.
My chest tightens, and I swallow, mouth dry, as I draw in shallow breaths.
Rescue comes from an expected source.
“Easy, girls.” Corin touches his daughters’ shoulders one at a time, oldest to youngest, omega to beta to alpha.
Each hugs him. Anamaria then dashes off to “get drinks” without asking what we want; though the hotel provides only coffee, tea, and water, so she’s not overloaded with possibilities. Bebe heads a different direction, promising to “watch over the condolence book” that I hadn’t asked for and didn’t plan to read any decade soon.
“I’ll stand guard.” Caity’s gaze flickers between me and her father, leaving open whether she’s guarding me from others or from running.
“We both will.” Corin’s teeth flash white as he smiles down at me, though the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. His scent meshes with his daughter’s, making the air around me reminiscent of the home we still share—except that Anamaria recently moved into an apartment with two other omegas, while Bebe and Caity live in college dorms most of the year, so having them here makes this better than the increasingly-empty house. Walking on either side, Corin and Caity escort me over near the wall, where no one can come up behind us.
My guards—and yet boxed in between them as I am, the tension in my chest eases. Alphas aren’t handsome or beautiful by default. They possess the same range of appearance as the rest of us, but their high levels of dominance almost always result in magnetic, compelling presences. These two have it in spades.
Between them, I can fade. Hide in their shadows.
Corin’s nose twitches and he glares down at me. “Stand tall for your family and friends,” he murmurs. “As for the rest, be as mysterious as you want. Gods know you puzzle me daily, but these are people who knew Max. Let them see who Max cared for.”
Typical Corin, wrapping a compliment in thorns.
