Asher is quiet for a few seconds, as if he’s mentally debating on telling me. Eventually he must decide to, for he says, “You remember her parents got into a really bad accident, right? Her aunt and uncle became her guardian after that, then when her uncle died a few years later, it was just her and her aunt. I don’t think they get along at all.”
With a shrug, I mumble, “What does that have to do with this?”
“She went snooping in her aunt’s office and found the will her parents left. If she’s matched to a pack before her first heat, her aunt will receive half of her inheritance, while her pack gets the rest.”
None of that screams out of the ordinary to me, so I shrug again. “So what?”
“There was a clause that said if she’s unmatched by her first heat, the entire inheritance will go to her.” My brother explains, “She doesn’t want anything to go to her aunt.”
Seriously? This whole thing is for money? I want to laugh, but it’s so damned stupid I can’t. “Why the fuck does it matter that much? They’re well-off. Why can’t she be fine with half?”
“I don’t think she wants her aunt to get anything, and I mean anything. And besides that, I don’t know that she really wants to match with a pack. She’s… it’s not like we talked about it lots during the drive here, but I think she’s pretty closed-off when it comes to matching with alphas.”
An omega who is closed-off. It’s kind of funny; you never hear about omegas who resist being matched. All you ever hear about is the stories of matching, or the arranged matches that used to be common years ago. Now, omegas and alphas have more of an equal ground when it comes to being matched—though I’m certain there are still plenty of unscrupulous dealings happening.
But none of that interests me. Not really. I don’t care that Jessica wants to be alone. If anything, it’s something I understand. Sometimes people aren’t meant to be in a pack. Sometimes certain people are better off alone.
Asher says, “I’ll leave you to your food. Just, uh, please try to be nice, okay? I’m not asking for the world here. Just… don’t be a dick.” He taps the counter a few times before he leaves the kitchen, presumably to return to his laptop.
I retrieve my food from the microwave and carry it to my room, shutting myself in and eating in peace.
Here I thought coming to this cabin would let me have some time to myself. Here I thought I’d be uninterrupted. This isn’t the first time I’ve come here, and it probably won’t be the last. Truly, the only place I feel at ease is here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Some people are made for that kind of life. I’m not one of them. I’ve never been one of them, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot change myself. I am who I am, and most of the time… people don’t like it.
They don’t like me.
I don’t make it easy for them. I’m well aware it’s my fault, but I’ve come to the realization that it’s easier to keep people locked out than to let them in. If I let them in, if I really, truly let them see inside of me…
They might not like what they see.
I am an alpha, an über alpha, who doesn’t want to be alive half the time. How pathetic is that?
It’s not something I ever discussed with anyone before, because I knew what they’d say, even when I was young. It was easier to be the mean, vicious alpha they expected me to be instead of the hopeless, depressed alpha I was.
I’ve never met another alpha who struggles like me. Really, it’s much better for me to stick to myself and be alone.
That depressed cloud hangs over me while I eat, and it lingers long after I’m finished. My phone sits untouched on the nightstand next to the bed. Hell, I don’t think its battery is charged anymore. If anyone has tried calling or texting me while I’m here, I haven’t gotten it. I don’t want any calls or messages. At this point, I don’t even know if I want to exist.
Just my fucking luck that my brother would show up with an omega in tow. What were the odds?
I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at the ceiling above my bed. Time is a strange thing. You’d think it acts the same all the time, but it doesn’t. Sometimes it crawls by with an agonizingly sluggish pace, while other times you blink and suddenly two hours have passed.
Maybe that’s not time acting up. Maybe that’s a bit of dissociation on my part.
Eventually someone knocks on the door and pokes their head in. “Dude,” Asher says, “why is your phone off?”
“It’s not off. It’s dead,” I answer him without looking at him, but I can tell he’s anxious.
“Jess went for a walk,” he pauses, “over two hours ago. I’m worried she got lost or something bad happened to her. Can you help me look for her?”
“You brought her here. She’s your responsibility—”
“Come on. I’m asking you, no,beggingyou: please help me look for her. I won’t ever forgive myself if something happened to her out there.” His voice cracks at the end there, informing me he means every single word he says.
They might have had a falling out years ago, but a part of him still cares about her a lot. Or maybe seeing her as an adult stirred up some feelings inside him he’s not quite ready to face.
Don’t ask me why, but I prop myself up and stare at my brother from across the room. I study his face, the way his expression tugs at his features, how his mouth is drawn into atight line. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing on his face, ever. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him so concerned before in my life.
