I turn onto my side, curling up, and hug the pillow to my chest. The exhaustion finally pulls me under, dragging me down into the dark. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to feel. I just want to sleep.
Tomorrow is coming, and with it, the inevitable clash. But for now, in the dark, I can pretend. I can pretend she didn’t leave. I can pretend she didn’t come back to destroy us. I can pretend that in the rain, she kissed me, and I let her.
My breathing evens out. The cabin fades away. I sleep.
Saramaria
The gravel of the Feed and Seed parking lot crunches under the tires of my rented pickup as I pull into a spot near the back. The lot is busy, filled with trucks and horse trailers, but my eyes go immediately to the corner.
I grab my bag and whistle for Wellsy. We walk over to The Human Bean cart. The patio is charming, a designated area of flat, packed gravel separated from the parking lines by wooden planters overflowing with hardy sage and wildflowers. There are half a dozen heavy wooden picnic tables scattered around, each with a large umbrella folded down against the wind.
A couple of massive metal fire pits sit in the center of the seating area, and even though it’s just after noon, the propane heaters mounted on the poles are buzzing, casting a warm orange glow that fights off the chill of the mountain air. String lights crisscross above the patio, waiting for the dusk to light up the space.
Tessa is inside the cart, visible through the large serving window. The counter is polished wood, and behind her, the espresso machine gleams. She’s moving with her usual frantic energy, a blur of dark hair and a green apron, steaming milk and shouting orders to a barista I haven’t met before.
I take a seat at one of the picnic tables. Wellsy lies down on the gravel beneath the bench, resting his chin on my boot.
“Saramaria!”
Tessa’s head pops out of the serving window a few minutes later. She holds up a paper cup with a sleeve. “Your usual. Oat milk latte, extra shot.”
I walk up to the window to grab it. “You’re a lifesaver, Tessa.”
She wipes her hands on her apron, leaning her elbows on the counter. The lunch rush seems to have paused for a second. She looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes that makeup doesn’t quite hide.
“How are you holding up?” she asks, her voice dropping so the customers in the drive-thru lane can’t hear. “I heard you were down at the clinic looking for Willa after the news broke. Seen her yet?”
I take a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect. Hot and strong, cutting through the cold. “Not yet. I really hope she’s okay. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through. I’m still trying to process it all. It’s sickening.”
Tessa lets out a huff of air that blows a stray hair out of her face. “You can say that again. This town has gone insane. I had an Alpha in here not twenty minutes ago—a guy I’ve been serving for two years—who tried to tell me it wasn’t really Jack’s fault.”
My hand tightens around the cup. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she says, her eyes flashing with anger. “He said, and I quote, ‘If an Omega is in heat and projecting that hard, you can’t blame a man for losing control.’”
The blood in my veins turns to ice. I set the cup down on the ledge before I crush it. “He said that? Out loud?”
“Like it was the most natural thing in the world,” she confirms, her jaw set. “He said Jack Dalton was a victim of hisown biology. That Willa should have known better than to be around a powerful Alpha when she was... susceptible.”
The misogyny of it sits heavy and sour in my stomach. It’s the same old story. The same narrative that’s been used to excuse bad behavior for centuries. It doesn’t matter that we are in a modern era, or that we have laws. At the end of the day, people like that customer—and people like Jack—see Omegas as things to be managed or conquered, not people to be respected.
“That’s disgusting,” I say, my voice shaking. “Being in heat doesn’t strip a person of their right to say no. It doesn’t give anyone a pass to assault them. Jack Dalton is a predator. Full stop. Her biology didn’t make him do anything. His lack of morality did.”
Tessa nods vigorously. “Thank you! I told him exactly that. I told him if he wanted to keep drinking my coffee, he’d better check his attitude at the window. He just huffed and drove off.”
She leans closer, lowering her voice further. “It’s not just him. The talk around town... it’s divided. A lot of the older Alphas are circling the wagons, protecting their own. They’re saying it’s a tragedy, sure, but a misunderstanding. A biological error.”
“It makes me sick,” I say.
“Me too.” She sighs, looking out over the parking lot toward the main road. “You know Baby couldn’t even be at The Salt Lick last night?”
“Baby closed the bar?” I ask, surprised. The Salt Lick is the heart of this town’s nightlife. It’s rare for it to be shut down unless it’s a holiday or a blizzard.
“Nah,” Tessa says. “She had someone else run the place for her. She called me this morning. Said she couldn’t open the doors and serve drinks to men who were sitting there making jokes about Willa. She said one guy toasted Jack. Actually toasted him.”
I shake my head, a mix of horror and admiration for Baby washing over me.
“She must be pissed. She loves that saloon more than anything, and from what I see, she’s not very good at delegating. This must be killing her, not overseeing her own business.”
