Knot Her Shot (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 2)

Chapter 2

chapter

two

I knowyou have no reason to believe me at this point, but, I swear, I’m really not a jealous person.

However, watching my best friend nuzzle noses with the country’s premiere quarterback-slash-heartthrob? Knowing they’re mates? Seeing the utter contentment and joy all over both of their faces?

If envy turned people green, I’d resemble the lime floating in my margarita.

Declan Howard lingers over Meg for a long moment before tossing her a cocky grin and standing up straight. He skirts his eyes over to me, letting a bit of chagrin into his expression while he moves toward the grill.

“Sorry, Remi. Had conditioning early this morning, and I didn’t get to see Meg before I left.”

I wave him off, trying not to let my phony smile pull too tight. “You guys are adorable,” I say, then gesture around their lavish lanai. “And this is your house.”

Meg snorts, adjusting her bikini top. Looking at her, I realize my pastel sundresses and frilly swimsuits contrast with my darker complexion every bit as much as Meg’s black straps stand out against her paleness.

I didn’t know my parents, but the ethnic ambiguity they passed on to me created a surprising mix of traits. Brown skin with hazel-y blue eyes. Black hair that’s curly, but fine. Not to mention my designation, which is rare enough on its own since only one-in-ten people end up becoming omegas.

“I’m glad you’re cool with the PDA,” Meg mumbles, grimacing. “Because I also missed Theo this morning, and if the vibes he’s sending through the bond are any indication?—”

A loud whoop cuts in as her enormous tight-end alpha tears out of their house and bolts right to her.

Naked.

Well, basically naked. He has boxers on, I think, but it’s all sort of a muscular blur of hairy, blond energy.

“Theo! Don’t you dare?—”

Meg squeals as he hauls her into his thick arms and spins her in circles. It only takes two lumbering steps for him to reach the pool’s edge, plunging them both into the aquamarine water.

I watch the evening sunlight reflect on the surface, feeling all sorts of wistful. The truth is, I’m happy for my best friend. She’s an incredible person who deserves all of this happiness more than anyone else I know.

The truth is, I am also sick to my stomach with how much I want what she’s found.

It’s been eight months since she met her pack, and I’ve mostly moved through my negative emotions. There were times when I struggled, constantly thinking it wasn’t fair. Meg never wanted alphas of her own or life as the center of a pack, yet that’s exactly what she got. Whereas I always wanted my own alphas, my own family?—

But no one ever wanted me back.

“Hello, Remi!”

I recognize Dr. Archer Monroe’s voice before I squint my eyes open and find him standing at the end of my lounge chair. Ever the respectable man of medicine, he has a layer of sunblock on his dark skin and a perfectly appropriate pair of red swim trunks to cover his lower body. The upper half remains frightfully bare.

Meg is a great friend, so I doubt she’s ever told her alphas that they’re basically the first men I’ve ever seen partially-naked in person. It’s overwhelming for me, visually; but thankfully, their bonding eliminated any possibility that I might find one of them attractive in any meaningful way.

Now, whenever one of them is close enough for me to smell, I pick up on Meg’s underlying signature, and my body gives a big, fat no thank you.

Smiling back at Archer, I lift my hand in a shy half-wave. “Hi!”

Why am I so awkward?

Ever since Meg moved in here, visiting her feels like going to a friend’s house in middle school and not knowing what I should say to her parents. Especially when Ronan is around. Because that alpha is all kinds of intimidating.

“Thank you for letting me come over,” I blurt next, repressing a cringe.

Lord, I even sound like a middle schooler.

Always kind to a fault, Archer smiles wider. “Of course. Having you here makes Meg so happy; we love that.”

He shuffles the books tucked under his arm and sets one at the very end of my chair, careful not to touch me. He clears his throat before fibbing, “I found this extra copy in my collection upstairs. I don’t need it back.”

He truly is a nice man. When he discovered I love to read and noticed that all of the books I brought poolside were from the local library, he began casually offering me copies of things he’d “finished” with.

It wasn’t until I found a very recent price sticker on the inside of one of their dust jackets that I realized he’d specifically bought two copies so I could have one.

…And it wasn’t until I mentioned it to Meg that I realized she masterminded his charity.

She does that sort of thing now that she can. Slipping cash into my purse when she thinks I’m not looking, picking up checks for meals, buying me an absurd amount of Christmas gifts.

I know she only does it because she loves me. We’ve shared everything with each other since we met—she doesn’t see why her new family and their wealth should be any different.

There’s probably some way for me to explain how small it all makes me feel—but then she would feel bad. Plus, if the measly tips I made today are any indication, I’m not exactly in a position to turn down financial help.

Archer accepts my thanks for the “extra” book and pulls a nearby lounger to the pool’s edge. Meg and Theo chase each other around the shallow end, playing a ridiculously mushy version of Marco-Polo until Theo finally gets his arms back around her and lifts her up to his packmate.

Meg situates herself against Archer’s side, grinning when his lips graze her forehead. Their eyes meet in a pointed way that tells me they’re communicating internally. I don’t catch on to Theo’s involvement until he makes a nervous coughing sound.

My best friend shoots him a look. “Theo,” she calls, just a touch too shrill, “I’ve been meaning to tell Remi about that thing your sister is doing. What’s it called again?”

Despite the fact that this is clearly some rehearsed skit, the big alpha stammers for a second. “It, uh, um, it’s called Forever Matched?”

My stomach twists at the name. A whine bubbles at the base of my throat. I stab it as quickly as I can, hoping no one heard.

Archer is much better at playing along. His answering, “Hmm,” manages to sound genuinely ponderous. “I’ve heard of them. Very reputable scent-matching service. They have the highest global success rate—if I’m not mistaken.”

Archer is never mistaken.

Theo flips his dripping man bun off the top of his head, nodding too earnestly. “That’s what Emma said. Like, three of her sorority sisters have found packs through them.”

Meg fiddles with the drawstring on her doctor alpha’s swim trunks, very carefully not looking at me. “What do you think, Remi? Would you ever use a service like that?”

Feelings fly through me, too fast for any to sink in. There’s a stab of betrayal—because of course Meg knows that a professional scent-matching service is the last resort for omegas—and a flash of dismay.

I narrow my eyes at her. “You know how I feel about it,” I tell her, prim. “Besides, those services cost tens of thousands of dollars.”

She drags her gaze up to mine, flinching in a guilty wince. “Rrriiiight… but, just for the sake of argument, if cost wasn’t an issue—would you do it?”

I mean, if cost wasn’t an issue I’d be on a private jet to a spa on the Amalfi Coast.

But I’m a barista.

Last week, I ate microwave rice out of pouches four nights in a row.

It’s an effort not to glare. Meg, of all people, knows how hard it is to be omega without a pack. I may not have the same heat issues she did—yet—but it still isn’t fun to be in agonizing pain for days at a time and handle it all by myself.

Meg knows I just went through a terrible heat over the holidays. She knows I need a pack and have always wanted to find one the old-fashioned way. Am I really so pathetic that she feels like she needs to push this on me now?

“I don’t know,” I tell her, hiding my frown behind my drink. “I would have to think about it.”

But I know I won’t.

Because the fact is, what I want can’t be boiled down to numbers or lab samples.

I want a home. And I’m not sure there’s an equation for that.