Chapter 23
John sneers over my shoulder at Greg, who just smiles back from his ever-present post. “I’ve told you, honey bunny, even if it weren’t for this…
beta that you insist on dragging around, you wouldn’t be able to stay with us over spring break.
My pack has plans, and we can’t just cancel everything, even for my scent match. ”
I hate the little whine that builds in my throat at his rejection.
And his stupid pheromones push me to smooth everything over, despite feeling like he just tore out my heart.
“No, I…I understand. I mean, we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and you have an important job. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Nonsense, my dear, it would be lovely to see you more. My pack just keeps me so busy. But it’s still a couple of months away. We can try to fit in a few more visits between now and then. Possibly without the chaperone.”
He stares pointedly past me, and I hear Greg mumble, “Not a chance in hell, asshole.” My beta’s strong hand smooths down my back as he shuffles closer. But when I peer over my shoulder at him, he has a big, fake grin on his face.
John looks annoyed but pointedly ignores Greg’s snark.
“Now, tell me, how was your holiday? You said you were going to see your family? Oh, but first let me tell you about the trip we took…” His voice has taken on that low droning quality that I’ve come to associate with another story about him, and while my omega perks up a bit that her alpha is paying us attention, the rational part of my brain wonders again how the hell any part of me is attracted to someone so self-centered.
We’ve been back from Christmas break for almost three weeks, and this is the first time he’s shown up or contacted me at all.
Part of me wants to question whatever batshit crazy gods decided this guy was my scent match.
Other than his pheromones, there’s just nothing to like about him.
But logic and my inner omega don’t always work well together.
Still, I think even she may be getting tired of his shit.
The previous excitement I’ve felt when he stopped by is nearly non-existent today.
Hell, my first thought when the front desk called me to the visitor center was to wonder if he doesn’t think I have anything going on.
Why should I have to drop everything just for his stupid scent?
Still, something compels me to want to be around him, even though I don’t particularly like him. Would I even be able to bond with him and his pack? Do I want to? I don’t know…they haven’t spent any real time with me, and from what little there has been, I don’t think I like him very much.
“Sorry about having to make up that extra hour at work, Sarah. If I’d known he was stopping by in advance, I could have asked for time off.
Or at least not had to call in a favor to cover my shift.
” Greg has dark bags under his eyes—he hasn’t been sleeping well since we got back from Christmas, but I don’t want to put him on the spot by asking him what’s wrong.
Instead, I step into him and wrap my arms tight around his waist.
He rests his cheek on top of my head and starts singing quietly, but I don’t recognize the tune.
One hand slides lower around his hips as his shoulders slump against the door he just walked through.
My hand comes up to rest against the wood so I don’t put all my weight against his slouched form, my face turning to nuzzle against his chest, taking a deep hit of his subtle beta scent, which sends a happy little shiver down my spine.
“Want me to fix something, or just order in so we can crash early? You look worn out, Pretty Boy.” His low song tapers into a thoughtful hum and his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer so he can shift and kiss my hair.
“I…You haven’t been eating much lately. I’m worried about you.
I would love to order a pizza and then snuggle to sleep in your nest, but will you be ok with that?
Ever since we got back, you’ve just been picking at everything.
And don’t think I missed the extra hours you’ve been spending at the gym.
Your mom was too harsh on you. You’re perfect just the way you are. ”
My whole body freezes at that thought, because it’s really hard not to gain weight with PMOS.
Before Greg, I wasn’t exactly on a strict diet; I just rarely remembered to eat other than after a gym session.
Then he comes in, feeding me, making me comfortable and cozy and…
yeah, I gained a few pounds before we visited my family.
Leave it to Mamá to notice and say something.
Of course, if he thinks I’m perfect now, I’ll need to work extra hard to stay that way.
I bite down on my lips to stop the whimper that wants to slide free at the thought of always having to go for the salad and turning down food he brings me.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like a salad as much as Shaggy, but I’m not averse to them like some people.
Still, if he wants me to stay the size I am now, there is gonna be a lot of lettuce and baby spinach in my future. Ugh.
I’m only aware of how much I’ve stiffened up when he pulls back to look down at me.
“I love you, Sarah. No matter your shape or size, you are my perfect, beautiful girl. And you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.
I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, so don’t stress about me, ok?
You’re it for me. Ride or die. Hell or high-water.
Till death do we part…or you get tired of my singing… whichever comes first.”
A huge yawn makes his jaw crack loudly, causing him to wince.
I step back and take the decision out of his hands.
“Ok, Pretty Boy, you go sit down. I’m going to check the fridge.
If the bread isn’t furry or a lovely shade of green, we’re just going to go with peanut butter and jelly…
or honey…or whatever the hell we have on hand.
Then you, my good sir, need sleep and I need snuggles. ”
He nods numbly at me, stumbling away towards my couch, veering at the last minute to sit on the floor next to Shaggy’s run.
He undoes the latch, letting my fuzzy little roommate out before he stretches out on the floor and closes his eyes.
Shaggy hops out of the gate and flails his way up onto Greg’s chest, butting him in the chin and demanding attention.
He thumps his back leg against my beta’s chest a couple of times before a hand comes up and starts scratching gently behind his ears.
Shaggy makes a soft bruxing sound, settling down and spreading out across Greg’s chest, soaking up the attention as I turn towards the kitchenette in search of something edible.
A short time later, armed with two peanut butter and honey sandwiches, a half-empty bag of tortilla chips, plus an apple slice for Shaggy to entice him back into his pen so we can eat without his demands for attention, I return.
Greg is snoring lightly, still on his back on the floor, hand lying across Shaggy’s back.
I can’t be sure, but I think my bun is asleep too, and I suddenly wish I had my cell phone in hand so I could capture this moment for posterity…
or future blackmail. Whichever the situation calls for.
Sadly, my phone is across the room, behind the couch, and plugged in.
Frustratingly, it also chooses that moment to start ringing.
Greg startles awake and sits up, causing Shaggy to slide down his chest as I attempt to clamber over the couch and silence my mother’s obnoxiously loud ringtone.
I don’t want to talk to her. It feels like every interaction I’m waiting for her to say something shitty about my life.
In a constant state of limbo, knowing that eventually something horrible is going to come out.
I had hoped, futilely, that after the first night at home she would have backed off. But no such luck. Every time I turned around, some kind of snarky comment was being made. Backhanded compliments, my abuela used to call them—gaslighting is a more accurate term.
Oh, it’s great that you’re working out so much, but guys don’t like muscles.
He only thinks you’re hot because you’ve got that huge muscular horse ass.
Honey, you have such a generous mouth; it’s why you can eat so much.
I’d rather they just not talk to me at all.
I mean, not to quote a rabbit, but what the fuck ever happened to “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.
” I hated Bambi…it was depressing, and the sudden, forced relationship with his father figure was random and off-putting.
Where was that bastard during the start of the movie?
Good goddamned thing they don’t have child support in the woods is all I’m fucking saying.
My phone’s finally stopped ringing and a few moments later, it chimes about a new voicemail.
I’ll be deleting that after dinner. We stayed the whole week, at my insistence, because it was expected—but fuck, I need some recovery time after that.
Plus dealing with John today. Even my own scent match doesn’t want to spend time with me, and there is no way in hell I’m going back to my parents’ house for spring break.
They’ll be shutting down the dorms, though, for the twice-a-year deep clean and de-scenting, so we have to figure something out.
Maybe we can swing a week-long hotel trip, just a short staycation in town?
I’m turning back to Greg and Shaggy with our impromptu dinner when my phone starts to ring again.
At least this time it’s not a call I mind.
Hell, a year ago, I would have been happy at the opportunity to vent about everything to my best friend.
Now he’s so busy that even when he calls, he mostly talks about his pack and their gym.
I wonder if they can take in a couple of house guests and a displaced rabbit over spring break? Fuck, anything’s better than dealing with my family again.