I just hoped that the downsides to having an omega with challenges that he couldn’t bond with wouldn’t mean Jack got tired of me.
“Okay, I’m going,” I said, pushing back from him and reaching for the door.
“I love you,” Jack said, grinning like a fool over the fact that he could say that. “I’ll let you know what I find out about advancing this whole plan of ours. I think I know a journalist who would eat this kind of story up.”
I loved hearing that. It gave me hope. And God only knew that I hadn’t had a lot of that in the last few years.
As much as I hated leaving Jack, it was easy to drive home through pre-dawn streets. It was early enough that few people were on their way to work so far. There was a good chance that I could let myself into the house and creep up to bed so that my parents thought I’d just stayed out late and got home after they went to bed.
That would have been nice, but it wasn’t even close to what happened.
Because there was an unfamiliar car in my spot on the driveway once I got home. An expensive, unfamiliar car.
“Thank God, honey. There you are,” Papa greeted me as soon as I stepped through the kitchen door.
That would have been bad enough, but Papa and Dad were both sitting at the kitchen table, cradling coffee cups, and Chester was with them.
“We were so worried about you,” Chester said, standing. That was all he did, though. He stood and immediately shuffled in his spot, like he was massively uncomfortable.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, glaring at him.
“Chester showed up last night after supper looking for you,” Dad said, standing as well.
I gaped between the two of them. “You’ve been here all night?”
“I was deeply concerned for your wellbeing,” Chester said, peeking anxiously at my papa. “You know that omegas with—” he coughed slightly, “—severed bonds are prone to impulsive, reckless behavior.”
“No shit,” I said, crossing my arms tightly and leaning against the counter.
“Quincy. Language,” Papa said, getting up and rushing over to me. “We were worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying not to be angry with my parents. They’d dealt with me running off before, sometimes for days at a time. I always came back safely. Maybe with more tattoos, piercings, or a different colored hair, but fine.
“They didn’t know that,” Chester said. “There was a report of an omega who was killed last night in a bad section of town.”
“It wasn’t me,” I snapped. Immediately, I felt terrible. I pushed away from the counter and hugged Papa. “It wasn’t me, Papa. I’m fine. See?”
“Where were you?” Papa asked, holding me tightly.
“At a friend’s house,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “I went over there for dinner and to hang out last night and we fell asleep.” Also not a lie, but not really the truth.
“You should have called,” Dad said. I could see the conflict in him. He knew I was an adult, but he couldn’t let go of his fatherly feeling of responsibility toward me.
Because I was broken.
And the man who had broken me had spent the night in their house doing and saying God knew what.
“You can go now,” I told Chester. “I don’t even know why you came here in the first place.”
“I was hoping we could talk,” Chester said, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “It was…it was nice seeing you again the other day. Call me crazy, but I was thinking we could…start seeing each other again.”
“Not interested,” I said without hesitation.
Dad and Papa looked surprised. Surprised and forlorn.
“Is that any way to talk to the man you’ve known since you were children?” Dad asked, not scolding, but definitely wanting me to make nice with Chester.
“The two of you were bonded once,” Papa said, resting a hand on the side of my face. “Maybe being friendly with Chester could, you know, help.”
