Chapter 17
Wren
It’s mind-blowing how different everything looks in the summer.
Ridgelake’s entire aura is livelier and brighter.
The buildings might still be gray and tattered, but the clear blue sky above and the blooming trees, together with many more people in the streets, almost make it look like a place bustling with life.
Somewhere a person may actually like to spend their day.
Even the view up the mountain doesn’t fill me with as much dread as it did before.
Nature is so pure here, somehow still not tainted by the worst of the modern world.
It is especially obvious at this time of year.
I never appreciated that. Those massive, old trees stand tall, covering the mountain like a blanket, and the fresh air carries a potent scent of pine, soil, and something innately wild that cannot be described. I think I’ve actually missed it.
Not as much as I’ve missed Russell, though…
My body feels torn in half by nervousness and excitement.
The two emotions fight an epic battle mostly inside my stomach.
The coffee I had when I left the city probably wasn’t the best idea.
Now I’m shaky on top of everything. Or am I shaky because I’m driving up the road I know leads to the store? To him?
I’ve already gone through every possible scenario in my head in the first hour of my journey, but the same questions come up again and again, mercilessly.
What if he’s not here?
What if he doesn’t want to see me?
What if he’s with someone else? What if there’s a lovely, tall, strong alpha by his side, helping him in the store, and taking care of him in a way I never—
I take a deep breath and clap my hands together, stopping my thoughts.
I quickly grab onto the wheel again and drive slowly, quietly counting down from ten to prevent myself from spiraling.
There’s probably not enough therapy in the world to reprogram my brain to stop it from always being so self-critical and pessimistic, but I’m working on it. I’m really trying.
That’s all I can do, at the end of the day. Try, try, and try again to be better.
And fuck, I want to be better. Being better feels good.
Being better is the only way I could ever possibly step in front of Rus again without feeling like a complete failure. I need him to see how much I’ve changed. I’m no longer a pathetic, fumbling mess. Even if he doesn’t want me.
“Even if he doesn’t want me,” I repeat to myself slowly, preparing for the possibility.
I park in the empty spot outside the store, which looks markedly different from what I remember. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about snow this time.
A part of me wants to straight up run in there, but the anxiety holds me back, making me stare ahead blankly while I tap my fingers against the wheel and steady my breath. I need to remind myself that we haven’t spoken in a few weeks, and that not everyone appreciates big surprises like this.
But…surely, he’ll be glad to see me, right? At least a little bit?
I place my hand over my chest, feeling the pounding heart beneath. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this nervous in my life.
I have to do this before I lose my damn mind.
Last check in the rearview mirror—my hair looks fine.
I braided it at the back so it stays out of my face, even though a few light strands slip out near my temples and ears.
I couldn’t fall asleep for the longest time, but ended up getting at least six hours, so my usual dark circles aren’t too bad.
I’m wearing a dress shirt with a few top buttons open and a light bomber jacket that I think suits me pretty well. I hope he likes it.
I wonder if Rus looks any different.
God, I can’t wait to see him.
I get out of the car, still shaky on my legs. My hands feel too empty. Should I have brought flowers or something? No, that would’ve felt like too much. Too big, too intense. Me turning up all of a sudden is crazy enough.
“Everything’s okay,” I mutter to myself while walking. “You’ve thought about this for months. Not backing out now. You can do it.”
I freeze when someone steps out of the store. It’s a young couple that gives me pause.
My brain takes a few seconds to connect the dots—the man looks so familiar because he’s the guy whose satellite phone Rus let me use to call for the tow truck.
The woman is probably his omega wife he mentioned.
She smiles widely, holding the hand of a little girl next to her who must be a toddler at best, judging by how small she is and how hard she’s focusing on putting one tiny foot in front of the other.
Her giggles fill my ears and send a tickling sort of flutter through my stomach.
I raise my brows with a polite expression the moment the alpha’s gaze lands on me.
I expect the same courtesy in return, but instead, something behind his eyes shifts, and he narrows them at me, slowing his step.
The woman notices me, too, and quickly picks up the baby while grabbing the man’s hand.
Tugging at him and whispering into his ear, she drags him away.
He utters a remark as they pass me, but I don’t catch it. They turn back at me one more time as they walk off. Rus did say he was possessive. I guess they…really dislike outsiders.
I keep walking, a little confused and struggling to shake off the strange sensation from that interaction.
Everything inside me buzzes with memories of this place. When I glance up, I see the window we looked out of while eating the delicious food Rus made. Heat passes through me. Comforting, fluttering heat.
This is the moment.
I take one more deep breath before pushing the door open. The familiar ding of the bell rings above me, making the corners of my lips tug upward.
The scent I’ve been yearning for and recalling these past months fills my nose as soon as I step in.
Damn, was it always this sweet? It’s much more pungent in its sweetness than I remember, reminding me more of pure sugar with a hint of almonds rather than just marzipan. Still, it’s as lovely as I expected.
I look around, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest with anticipation.
My eyes are like heat-seeking missiles, targeting only one thing.
Nothing else matters. The shelves and things on them blur, unimportant.
Then I see it—a fiery crown of short, wavy curls across the store, partially obstructed by a shelf.
“Be right there!” he shouts, his back to me. He’s stocking something into one of the freezers.
I stand motionlessly by the door, staring at the back of his head with a stupid smile I can’t control.
I remember the way those ginger strands felt under my hand as I raked through them when we were in bed, our limbs intertwined and bodies pressed flush together.
The tips of my fingers tingle with how real it is.
Finally, he steps around the shelving and turns to greet me.
I watch for that important, telling moment when his eyes meet mine and his face shifts into what is…shock.
Rus blinks sharply. He drops whatever he was holding in his hand—an empty cardboard box—and as my eyes follow the movement of the object, they scan past him, taking it all in. Face. Neck. Chest. Torso.
The entire world stops at the sight of his clearly rounded stomach under the washed-out denim dungarees he’s wearing. Rus’s hand sharply grabs his belly, almost instinctively.
Wait…what?
There’s a beat. Air evaporates out of my lungs.
The memory of that weird-ass dream I had a couple of months ago of that magpie coming into my apartment with a bunch of chirping chicks flashes through my brain before my mind completely stalls and nearly shuts down.
My mouth falls open. I look up at him, secretly hoping that meeting his gaze will somehow snap me out of this. But there is nothing to snap out of. It’s real. What’s in front of me is real.
Rus narrows his eyes and darts them down, fully aware of the source of my bewilderment. With a heavy exhale, he wraps his hand around his stomach, and my goodness, he’s huge.
Pregnant. He’s…
I helplessly fumble for words before some finally come out. “What the fuck?” is all I manage, breathless and a little dizzy.
I run my hand through my hair before I realize it’s braided and I’m only messing it up. With a trembling breath, I step back, still watching him—his face, his eyes that are averted from me like he’s ashamed—and then I stare at his stomach again.
“Why…why wouldn’t you say anything? Last time we called, you…”
What the fucking fuck?!
Rus is quiet.
He’s quiet, and my mind only keeps rumbling louder and louder.
I want to raise my voice. I want to shout because he’s fucking pregnant, and he didn’t tell me, and because I need to get some of this overwhelming tension out, but that thought is promptly erased once the realization that this isn’t his fault hits me.
He’s probably as overwhelmed as I am.
I literally turned up with no warning.
The harsh realizations keep coming. Like the fact that I never even considered this possibility. How could I have been so selfish and stupid?! I had sex with him without a condom how many times while we were together?
I knotted him. I knotted an omega while I was in a rut, and not once have I stopped to consider the very real possibility that Rus might get pregnant.
Goddammit. I was so hung up on my own shit that…
everything that happened in this cabin felt like some dream.
It wasn’t ‘real’. It was happening in some magical world where normal rules didn’t apply.
Looking back, I feel like the biggest fucking idiot for just letting myself believe that and going on my merry way.
These past months, I was all too happy to get myself off to the memories of our time together, but it hadn’t occurred to me once how damn irresponsible what I did was. Or the possible consequences of it.