I say nothing, only tipping my head to the side and looking at her. But then I reach over for her hand. “Trissy,” I start but have to take a big breath before I confess. “I packed. And I am so sorry for not telling you anything, but there’s so much going on. It’s sort of resolved. But not enough for me to tell you everything. On top of that I simply can’t, not because it’s not safe, but I’m not in a great headspace. The guilt eats at me. Secrets are dangerous but at the same time I’d do anything ....” Spots are in my eyes, my breathing is all choppy, I sound hysterical. I think I am.
And then, it feels like my boob is being torn off my chest.
I screech, looking around to see what happened.
Everyone in the whole restaurant is looking to see what happened.
And then I’m enveloped in a bubble gum hug.
“Shit, Simona. I’m sorry. I freaked out a little bit, but you started talking gibberish and you never talk gibberish. I only meant to pinch you, but you jumped and...”
I gasp, sharp pain still radiating from my boob. I start to rub a hand over it, attempting to ease the sting. “That was you?”
She nods, and her hair cascades over us, veiling us from the world.
“Are you okay, Sim?”
“I will be.”
“And you know I’m not pissed at you for not telling me you packed or that you’d met your Alphas. I just wish you could have. Please don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. You know sometimes I talk without thinking, but not in this instance. I am not upset with you at all. It’s fucked up how sometimes you’re forced into doing something, even though you know it’s not right and it’s not how you want to handle the situation, but it really seems like it’s the only way. Does that make sense, or do you have to pinch me now?”
“Like with King?”
She takes a deep breath, clouding our embrace with her scent. It mixes with mine, and the sweetness is almost overwhelming, but I keep breathing it, chasing the chaotic relief Tristan always brings.
“Yeah, well that’s a story in itself. Some crazy, fucked up shit. Honestly. I met him, and the instant I did, I knew he was mine. I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know his name or his connection to Raney, and then I did but immediately like no joke, straight after I did find out all those things, shit got bad. Like real bad. And I couldn’t walk away from him, or my other Alphas, so I did what I did to keep Raney safe, and me. Not that it worked.”
I sit up so fast that my fingers get tangled in her hair, the both of us making so much of a commotion that people turn to look at us..
“Fuck, Sim, why’d you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper back, trying to be more discreet. I grab her hand. “Your story is my story, Tristan. I guess I never even thought something similar could happen to you.” I pat her hair down and stop talking when Ralph comes over with a tray of drinks that we didn’t order.
I lose the flow of my thoughts. My eyes locked on the glass. And it’s stupid, but at the same time, I’m learning thatif something pulls such an emotional response from me, it’s not stupid. It’s relevant and important.
Ralph places our drinks in front of us before leaning down. “It’s a mocktail. No alcohol.”
The air I was holding wooshes out. I look at Tristan, and her eyes are bigger than dinner plates.
“What, Tris?”
She looks at me weirdly. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times. My anxiety creeps back in faster and faster, stirring my stomach. I hate this. I hate how I see-saw all over the place. I use a breathing technique I’ve been shown to slow the speed and noises in my thoughts. And it works. It gives me the chance to read Tristan’s expression better.
“Are you pregnant?” she asks when I look at her. Barely any volume to her question although I hear it like she’s using a microphone.
I react pretty much the same way I did when she pinched me before, only this time without the noise. I have to hold my hand up, asking for a few seconds to deal with another twister starting up in my head. My anxiety locks onto something else and it tumbles around in my head, becoming impossible to ignore. My pack and I not having sex is a source of sadness for me. One I’ve spoken with my therapist and my pack about. I’m an Omega for goodness’ sake, and they’re my scent matched Alphas. They’re pretty much the embodiment of everything I find attractive. The facts speak for themselves: the medication I’m on is killing my sex drive. But the guilt, and the sense of failure I feel, makes it hard to remember.
I close my eyes, drawing on the bonds I share with them until there’s a little less darkness in my thoughts. There’s a final slow exhale before I answer her. “Not pregnant. Not even having sex. I might not have another heat cycle until I stop the medication. And that’s fucking me up.”
Before I finish, I’m back in her arms. Her bubble-gum infused cuddle is exactly what I needed, but it doesn’t stop the tears.
“Lucky your pack isn’t going anywhere then, isn’t it. He’s coming this way right this second. Jesus, is that Mr Torres from Unity?”
I nod but don’t lift my head up. I don’t need to check that he’s coming over; I can feel his presence pressing down on me, his thunderstorm scent crashing over the distance separating us. A warning and promise in every step.
“Is it okay, if perhaps we join you ladies for lunch? My Omega’s tears are my kryptonite, but apparently your Alpha is also having issues staying away.”
Chapter
