Page 90 of Now Their Starlet

“You guys know this place well, huh?”

“We’ve definitely shared quite a few takeout meals together over the past few weeks,” Everett murmurs softly.

He extends his hand to me, palm up on the table. I slide my hand into his. Even though he doesn’t have the calluses Beck has from guitar or the roughness Eli has from whatever the hell he does to work out, there’s a comforting sort of strength in Everett’s large, warm hand around mine.

“Let’s get you comfortable in the living room, Honey,” he murmurs, gently guiding me to my feet.

“Okay,” I nod, following after him.

He has me settled on one of the armchairs when Beck comes in with the softest fuzzy blanket I’ve ever felt in my entire life. It smells like him; warm, sweet, comforting caramel.

I have to bite back tears all over again when he wraps it around me like a cape, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before stepping back at the sound of footsteps.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Brennar,” a tall, middle-aged brunette beta woman says, offering me a small wave. “You must be Andi.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Hi there... um, do you need me to move or anything?”

“No, not at all. You look comfortable there. I will have to ask you to extend an arm so I can draw some blood for testing at my office later, but other than that, I can do everything I need to for today with you seated there.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, I’m sorry to cause you the trouble of having to bring my blood back and stuff.”

“It’s really no trouble at all, Andi, I do house calls often. A lot of omegas are medically anxious, and that anxiety messes with normal lab tests, which means certain underlying conditions can go undetected for far longer than necessary.”

Dr. Brennar is sweet as she runs her tests. She honestly reminds me of Nancy, my therapist. Maybe it’s because I don’t have many relationships with older women who calm me down rather than stress me out the way Gina does.

“I’m feeling rather tired,” Edison murmurs, standing from his seat at the end of the large sectional couch where all my guys are sitting. “I’m going to turn in early.”

“Okay, goodnight, Dad,” I say.

“Goodnight, Andi,” he says with a soft smile.

Dr. Brennar checks my heart-rate and blood pressure, then draws a vial of my blood, which she labels and places into a padded pouch in her bag. After pulling out a portable device that looks a lot like a blood sugar tester, she pricks my finger and places a drop on the testing pad. As she does this, she politely explains that it is specifically designed for measuring omega hormone levels.

The machine beeps a moment later, and Dr. Brenner checks the small screen for my results. “Well then, Andi,” Dr. Brennar says, resting her hands in her lap. “Do you feel comfortable with me sharing your results with everyone in the room?”

“Oh, um...” I glance at my guys and shrug. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“Very well. So I’m sure you haven’t exactly been feeling normal. Omegas need a baseline level of physical contact to keep their systems functioning and stress is toxic in a way that’s far more potent than it is for betas or alphas. Because of the circumstances you’ve endured, your body has been in a constant state of stress. These prolonged stress levels are pushing your nervous system into a state of shock referred to as Omega Stress Syndrome. Omega Stress Syndrome has five levels of severity,” Dr. Brenner states in a cool even tone, “and you’re currently measuring at a four on the scale.”

“That—that doesn’t sound good,” I say, clutching the soft blanket tighter around my shoulders.

“I’ll be honest with you, Andi, it’s not great, but at the stage you’re at, it is reversible. I will run your additional bloodwork back at the lab, and create a custom treatment plan for you. It’ll look like hormone therapy pills twice a day to help regulate things,” she says, pausing for a split second before continuing. “The other biggest thing I’m going to prescribe for you… are orgasms.”

My face instantly flushes hot. She says it so matter-of-factly that it catches me off guard. I’m simultaneously mortified that the guys are all here to hear this “prescription” of mine, and also grateful that they’ve heard it firsthand so I don’t have to explain it to them myself.

“Ex—excuse me?” I stutter. “How—how is that supposed to work?”

“The oxytocin released during an orgasm, especially with a partner you trust, is one of the best forms of medicine your nervous system needs right now. While we can certainly replicate things with hormone therapies, this is one of the most effective and speedy ways to get your hormone levels balanced again.

With your current stress levels, knots will likely be too much for your system, but once your hormones become more regulated and you reach level two, that will certainly be something I recommend.”

“O—oh,” I say, wanting to pull the blanket from around my shoulders and over my head completely. There are some bitter notes to my chamomile scent, telegraphing my shame and anxiety.

“I know this can feel like a lot,” Dr. Brennar says with a soft smile. “But there really is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“If—if you say so.” I let out a sharp huff.

“She’s right,” Everett says softly from the couch.