I send him a direct message:
ME
Where are you?
A tick appears a few seconds later to show it’s been seen. I watch the few dots flicker on the screen as he types. I stare, mesmerized by them, heart rate slowing. Everything’s fine; he’s going to explain his abrupt departure, and I’ll realize how stupid I’ve been for ever thinking he’d just drop me like that.
JAGGER
Glad I could help this weekend.
The icy message slices through my heart like a knife rupturing a perfect mirror glazed cake. It’s a generic text he’d send to anyone—not your scent match after going through a heat together and sharing the most intimate details of your life!
This isn’t the alpha I got to know… and fell for.
ME
James? What’s going on?
I clutch the phone, waiting with bated breath as three dots appear on the screen again. Moments later, they vanish, myheart fracturing into tiny pieces along with all my hopes of a future together.
A message suddenly flashes:
“You have been blocked from contacting this user. All communication attempts to this profile are strictly prohibited.”
My lips tremble, reading over the digital rejection until my vision blurs, and all I see are squiggles. My phone slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a crash.
He blocked me.
I crawl across the nest floor, dragging my limbs until my back is up against the wall. I pull my knees to my chest, hugging them while rocking back-and-forth. Tears stream down my cheeks as my entire body is wracked with uncontrollable sobs that echo around the spotless suite. I sound like some kind of injured animal.
I bring the robe up to wipe my face, catching a dash of his scent. Like an addict, I burrow my face into it, sniffing deeply. It’s enough to remind me that this wasn’t a dream, that he was real. Although his scent provides some relief, my stomach still twists painfully. Is this the last time I’ll ever scent him?
Closing my eyes, I can still feel his touch, how his calloused hands gripped my thighs and tenderly stroked my face. How his arms felt like a safe harbor when he held me close. After experiencing so much elation this weekend, the memories of it now feel… sordid. Dirty. Everything he promised me, the future we talked about... In an instant, all of it has been decimated, and I have no idea why. How could he do this? How could he leave without an explanation?
After crying for what feels like hours, I have no more tears left to shed. My eyelids are heavy, weighed down with burden as a crippling realization hits.
I type his name into a search engine, scanning the slew of articles about the countless omegas he’s allegedly seduced and been seen with. Maybe all these stories were true. It’s possible that everything he told me was a lie. After all, he performs for a living.
I groan, pressing my palms to my swollen eyes. How could I have been stupid enough to fall for his act? Am I that bad a judge of character?
Somehow, I manage to dress myself in the same clothes I wore when Jager and I first met. I listlessly search the suite for my stupid pink hat, but don’t put much effort into it; I’m too drained. Good fucking riddance. That misshapen monstrosity is what got me into this mess in the first place. If I hadn’t chased it down the street, none of this would have happened.
I stagger out of the hotel, ushered into the waiting car by staff who treat me like a piece of trash they want to discard before anyone else sees. To them, I’m just another groupie. Someone who spread her legs just because he’s a rockstar. Only good for one thing.
I started this day believing I’d found my scent match. How can it end like this?
I never knew it was possible for intense emotions to cause such physical pain. I feel like I’m being crushed from the inside out, like a car has parked over my lungs, and every breath is a battle for oxygen.
I don’t think I can physically or mentally take an ounce more, so I don’t look back at Grand Point Lodge as we pull away.
Was I too naïve? Too trusting? Kady would say I’m too nice. But he seemed so sincere, so genuine. I’d believed him. Fuck, I’d really believed him.
I bite my inner cheek so hard that it bleeds, holding back more tears to avoid having a mental breakdown in the back of the car.
Jagger used me. He left me. And he lied.
And what’s worse, a small part of me is still clinging to the hope that he’s going to come back, that there’s been some mix-up. It’s pathetic, but it still feels like he’smine. I can’t describe it any other way. He’s my match. My person… Yet now he’s gone.
