That is how I survive, remaining in control. Never allowing anything to surprise me by planning every inch of my life.
Except right now, I’m not in control of anything. Not this situation, not my emotions, not the creeping dread that’s been clawing at my chest since the pilot said the name of this town.
Tell him, a voice whispers.Tell him and watch his face change. Watch for the disgust that you always see on alphas’ faces when they find out the truth.
The impulse is reckless. Self-destructive. Exactly the kind of thing I’ve spent years training myself not to do.
I open my mouth anyway.
“I’m from here.”
Atticus blinks. “What?”
“Harmony Harbor. I grew up here.” The words come out flat, emotionless. Like I’m reading a particularly boring insurance policy. “My parents retired a couple years ago and moved to Florida, but there are definitely still people here who know me.”
“Okay.” He draws the word out slowly. “That’s…not what I expected. But it doesn’t exactly explain the death march attitude.”
“There’s more.”
“I figured.”
I take a breath. Then another. The tin ceiling tiles blur slightly as my eyes unfocus.
“When I was seventeen, I accidentally bonded with my childhood best friend.”
The silence that follows is absolute. Even the house seems to hold its breath, the old timbers creaking to a halt.
“Accidentally,” Atticus repeats carefully.
“We were camping. The night before graduation. There was a moment—” I stop, swallow hard against the memory that still feels like broken glass in my throat. “It doesn’t matter what the moment was. What matters is that afterward, he regretted it immediately.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Well, that’s what happened. Believe me, I was there.” The word tastes like ash. “So I left. Took my scholarship to NYU and never looked back. Haven’t been home since.”
Atticus studies me for a long moment, expression unreadable. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. There is nothing lower than an omega who’s been rejected by their alpha. Most alphas are less put off by venereal diseases. I have to look away before I see the disgust in his eyes.
When he finally speaks, Atticus says the last thing I would have expected.
“Don’t tell Phoenix.”
My head snaps toward him so fast my neck protests. “What?”
Atticus’s expression has gone serious in a way I’ve never seen before. No smirk. No calculated charm. Just something that looks almost like concern.
“You cannot tell Phoenix any of this.”
Heat floods my chest. “If you think Phoenix would judge me for?—”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” He holds up a hand, cutting off my defensive spiral. “Phoenix wouldn’t judge you. She’d probably relate to you even more. Childhood trauma, complicated family dynamics, painful pasts—that’s basically her love language.”
“Then why?—”
“Because Phoenix Riviera, upon learning that her beloved assistant was bonded and abandoned by his childhood sweetheart in this very town, will absolutely refuse to leave until she’s met every single member of your family.” His mouth quirks slightly. “Along with this mysterious childhood friend.”
The blood drains from my face so fast I feel dizzy.
“She’ll want to fix it,” Atticus continues. “That’s who she is. She sees someone she loves hurting, and she throws herself into making it better. Consequences be damned. Schedules be damned. The entire Montreal press tour be damned.”
