Haven nods, gray eyes running over me, concern etched over her face. “Okay.” She says, slowly at first, then firmer. “Okay.” Her arm loops around my shoulders and she guides me into the house, away from the glass door. Away from the Ashbourne pack. The distance makes my stomach clench uncomfortably.
“Let’s get you set up in the guest room. Get you comfortable. You can rest for a bit longer and then we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do.”
As soon as she says the words, I feel overwhelmed. Figuring out what I’m gonna do is… terrifying.
“They aren’t staying,” I tell her softly as she guides me into the guest room as far from her nest as we can get.
“What?” Her eyes shoot to me like daggers. I wince even though I know her ire isn’t directed at me. No, that’s reserved entirely for my fated mates.
I shrug and collapse onto the side of the bed. “They all but told me they’re here temporarily. That they expect me to go with them and become their… mistress.” I choke on the word and Haven does too, even though she didn’t say it. One minute she’s breathing just fine and the next she’s coughing, enraged.
“Are you sure they’re your mates?” she finally wheezes, red faced and eyes watering.
“I mean, I don’t think it was Glen the camera guy that broke my heart and made me sick when I had to leave the show.”
Haven perches next to me. “Are you sure? Because asking you to be their mistress is just…”
I swipe a hand wearily down my face and scoot further onto the bed. The sheets smell all wrong, like laundry soap and not like my pack. But I grit my teeth and make myself stay where I am. Haven settles into the pillow next to me.
“I know,” I say softly. “It almost feels like they're rejecting me all over again. Telling me again I’m not good enough to be their omega. But they feel a duty to me now. You know? I’m sick and they feel responsible, so they’re trying to fix it while also keeping the promises they already made. But I don’t think they actually want me, Haves.”
She makes a kind of wounded sound on my behalf. “I think they do, Ren. I think they want you so much it’s fucked with their heads and now they’re scrambling. Trying to figure out what to do. But they’re going to get there, babe. I know they will. You’re too good for them to miss out on.”
I lick my lips and stare hard at the ceiling as tears slip from my eyes. “But what if they never get there? What if the only way I can be even remotely healthy is to take what they’re offering? A cottage in the country that they visit for my heats? No bond. No true pack. Can I live with that?”
Can I live with needing them so badly I’ll take the scraps they can give me, but not their whole selves? Can I live with knowing Isadora is out there on their arms preening like a peacock and pretending like she’s their bonded mate?
She reaches out and laces her fingers through mine. “They’ll get there. I know they will. You deserve to have your pack, and you deserve to be happy with them.”
I hum a non-committal sound.
We lay there for a while, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. I’m exhausted even though I’ve been sleeping for the last day, and I do actually feel better than I have since I returned from the show.
But I hate the reason for that.
Haven shifts closer, nestling into my side. Her eyes drift closed and mine do too, lulled to sleep by the sound of my best friend breathing.
I don’t sleep all that well. Tossing and turning in the guest room. Nothing smells right. The sheets don’t feel right. Now that I’ve slept in the arms of my pack, it seems my omega thinks nothing else will do. Which will be a delight when they inevitably leave me again.
I climb out of bed, bleary-eyed and yawning as I make my way through the suspiciously quiet house toward the kitchen, needing a jolt of caffeine to help me survive what will undoubtedly be an awful day.
The door to the back yard is open, letting in a cool morning breeze and the low murmur of voices. Voices I recognize all too well. Gritting my teeth I slink by the open portal, and into the kitchen, where I pull up short, brow wrinkling over the sheer quantity of food spread out on the island.
Croissants, muffins, scones. Pancakes and waffles. A platter of scrambled eggs. Another of bacon and sausage. Yogurt. Fruits. Toast. English muffins. Hashbrowns and home fries. It looks like someone went into a diner and ordered five of everything and then brought it back here.
Is this what the Calloway pack does for Haven every morning? If it is, I’m going to start coming here for breakfast.
My stomach rumbles, letting me know my early morning smoothie was not enough to satisfy it, but I’m still hesitant to stuff myself full of food. It hasn’t turned out well for me in the past.
I pluck a chocolate muffin out of the array and then move over to the coffee pot.
The house stays quiet while I eat the baked good and drink my caffeine, only the faint murmur of voices from outside reaching me. I know the Calloways wouldn’t have left me alonewith the Ashbournes, I know Haven wouldn’t have done that either, but it sure feels like that’s the case.
I risk a glance out the window and freeze at what I find there. Court, Thayer and Haven, sitting together on a lounge chair, backs to the house. She’s between them and the insane urge I have to stride out there, grab her by her hair and drag her away from them hits hard and fast.
I have to take a deep breath and force my omega to calm. To notice the ten inches of space between their bodies. To remember that Haven is very happily mated to her fated pack and is currently carrying their first child.
My feet still carry me over to the back door, my coffee abandoned on the counter.
