33. Jordan
Chapter thirty-three
Icarus empties the tea infuser in the trash, grumbling to himself. "I don't know why we can't seem to get this right."
"That one was okay," I say encouragingly. "That could be our pack tea."
"I don't want just an okay blend," he snaps. I raise an eyebrow at the aggressive tone, and he immediately winces. "Sorry, sunshine," he murmurs, kissing my forehead. "It's just so weird that we can't find the right one. We've been at it for months."
"We'll figure it out. At least it's helping me develop a taste for tea." He chuckles and makes us both mugs of chamomile, carrying them to the couch and placing them on the coffee table.
"Coasters!" I shout, sprinting after him and placing the mugs on the agate slice coasters. "You're an animal."
"Me? You didn't even own coasters until I moved in!"
Speaking of animals, Dae comes barreling out of the bedroom, screeching loudly at some imagined slight. He hides under the coffee table, a strange combination of meow and growl rolling out of his chest. "What's your problem?" Vick asks, poking the cat with his sock-clad toe.
Unsurprisingly, the cat doesn't answer. I firmly believe cats can see ghosts, so I'm just going to assume one spooked the orange feline.
We're both dressed in comfortable lounge clothing, getting ready to cuddle up for a movie. It's Icarus' turn to pick, and he's chosen some art film in another language, and honestly, I'm dreading it.
He likes to watch with the subtitles on because it helps his brain process what's being said, but for me, subtitles don't feel like enough when it's a foreign language.
I doubt I'll watch much tonight. My head has been killing me, and I'm so queasy. I don't want to say out loud what I think it is.
It will make all of this feel very real.
Cuddling up under Icarus' arm, I inhale his soothing spa-like scent, letting it wash over me and calm my throbbing head. It's humorous that when it comes to Icarus, my home smells like a day getting massages and facials and resting in steam rooms. He smells like relaxation, and every time I get a whiff of it, I feel the tension bleed from my body.
"So you truly had fun last night?" I ask for what is probably the thirtieth time. I have difficulty pretending I don't care if he got along with the guys.
"They're competitive," he says with a chuckle. "I swear I thought Slime was going to deck me several times."
"Slime," I say, rolling the street name around on my tongue. "It's amusing that the quiet, studious Simon I knew is now a guy named Slime with green hair, a leather jacket, and a bike."
"Yeah, it's a strange nickname." He snags his mug from the table, taking a deep sip of the still-cooling liquid. He can handle a hotter temperature on his tongue than I can, so mine stays abandoned for now. "But yeah, they're good guys."
"Yeah…" I say softly. "I know they are." It's a strange dichotomy to try to reconcile the boys I knew with the teenagers who hurt me and the men they are now.
I want them in my life.
I don't think it makes me weak to admit that I want my Alphas with me. I've always wanted them. And Cyrus's t-shirt that I have under my sweater isn't going to be enough forever.
But if I forgive them so easily, just because they smell like home, aren't I being weak? Shouldn't I stick to my guns here?
I'm vaguely aware of Icarus kissing my forehead and turning the movie on, but my spinning mind isn't allowing me to focus on it.
Can I have them in my life if I don't fully forgive them? Could we do some sort of trial where we attempt to see if things can be repaired?
But that feels like a copout. It's a cheap way of sticking my toe in the water without making a real commitment. I have no doubt it would immediately drift into us becoming a pack, and I'll never know if I would have forgiven them if their scents weren't swimming around me at all times.
The ringing of my phone breaks my spiraling thoughts. I fish it out of the pocket of my lounge pants.
"It's your sister," I tell Icarus.
He raises an eyebrow and pauses the movie. "Answer it."
I put her on speakerphone. "Athena, what's up?"
"Are you at home?" she asks breathlessly.
"I am. Is everything okay?"
"Is Icky with you?"
Icarus cringes at the nickname, and I fight to contain a giggle. It's the most hideous nickname and precisely what all little sisters should call their big brothers. "I'm here," he replies.
"Put on Sin Bin. Now."
The line goes dead.
"Sin Bin is Cyrus' show," I tell Icarus when he raises an eyebrow at me. "It's on ABOSS."
Icarus navigates to the show, and I suck in a breath when I see Cyrus.
Cyrus Stargazer is fucking gorgeous.
There is no denying it.
His curly brown hair is piled on his head in a bun, but a few pieces spill from the sides. He wears a pale blue oxford over his massive body and has an earpiece in his left ear. He's looking at his cohost, an Alpha with rich, dark skin and braids, who's talking about some play that was just made.
"And that's intermission!" The other Alpha says. "The Devils are up by one at the end of the second period."
"What a period it was," Cyrus says with a chuckle. "And not a single visit to the sin bin." His voice is richer over the television, a deep rumble I feel in my core. "And speaking of the sin bin, Quinn, I have a confession."
The cohost, Quinn, looks at Cyrus, confusion on his face, before schooling his expression. "What's that, Stargazer?"
"I messed up big time."
My heart stutters.
No way.
There is no way he's about to do what I think he's going to do.
"Thirteen years ago, I lied to a woman who I loved and who loved me back. I thought I was doing what was best for her, but I won't make any excuses."
Oh.
He is doing it.
Icarus squeezes my hand tightly in support, but I can't look away from Cyrus' image.
"Just a few months ago, I found out she's my scent matched Omega, and she wants nothing to do with me. Rightfully so, if I'm being honest." He rips his earpiece out, and I wonder if his producers were shouting at him. "I just want her to be happy, and I think she could be with me and my pack."
He turns away from Quinn and looks directly into the camera, somehow, despite the distance, gazing directly into my soul.
"Jordan, you don't have to forgive me all at once. I don't care if it takes the rest of my life. I will do whatever it takes to earn your love and trust again. We were kids the first time we fell in love, and I have never stopped loving you. Not once in all of these years. I thought I was making the right decision, but I know now just how wrong I was."
I scoot onto the edge of the couch, hands over my mouth. My eyes burn with tears that I fight to keep from falling.
"Jordan, my Luna, please give me a chance to make this right. That's all I'm asking for. A chance to show you how much I missed you all these years and how much I love you."
It must be a trick of the light because it looks like there are tears in his eyes. Quinn is mumbling into the microphone on his shirt, his eyes looking harried as he darts his eyes between Cyrus and someone off-camera.
"I am so sorry, Jordan, and I know you don't want to hear my apologies because nothing can change what happened. But maybe you'll hear me now. Maybe you'll find space in that massive heart of yours for me again. And if you never do, know I will still be there for you. Whatever way you want me, Jay, I'm all in. You're it." He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, proving that shining wasn't a trick of the light.
"I love you, Jordan Cross. Please come home to me."
The station cuts to commercial, and I am frozen on the couch, tears running down my face. My hands are still clutched over my mouth. So many emotions are running through me right now that I can't seem to make heads or tails of them.
"Breathe," Icarus says, grabbing me by the shoulders.
But I can't breathe.
Am I supposed to be able to breathe after that?
Everything I ever wanted to hear from Cyrus came out of his mouth on live television.
And he said my name.
He said my name.
He claimed me in front of everyone.
What do I do?
I have to make a decision now, right?
But I'm not ready to make a decision.
I can't make the decision yet.
How can he expect that of me?
There is too much history, too much pain.
Rafe and Simon may not feel the same way he does.
What if they don't want me like that?
What if they're mad at him for doing something so public?
"Jordan, sweetie, I need you to calm down." I hear Icarus's voice, but I don't know what he's saying.
Shouldn't I know?
Shouldn't I be able to hear my Alpha?
What kind of Omega am I?
I'm vaguely aware that I'm having an anxiety attack, but that's it.
My anxiety is a monster that rolls beneath my skin. Sometimes, I am mostly me, living my life with the knowledge of the darkness that exists in the back of my mind.
Other times, the monster makes itself known, and I live alongside it, taking its hand and leading it through the fucked up world that is my life.
But right now, I'm unsure where I end, and the monster begins.
I think I may be more monster than me.
How could anyone love a monster?
A rattle reaches my ears, and I feel fingers on my chin, pulling my mouth open. A pill hits my tongue, and reflexively, I push it underneath to let it dissolve.
He remembered.
Icarus remembered what to do when the monster tried to claim me.
My medication is fast-acting, and I soon feel the beast crawl back into its cage, and my body becomes mine again.
My vision focuses, and I look upon the worried, expressive face of my Alpha. His emerald green eyes are hard and focused, and worry creases the corners.
"Sunshine?" he says softly. "Can you talk about what just happened?"
I open my mouth to speak but snap it shut immediately, shaking my head. I'm not ready to tell him I just had a meltdown because I realized I have to decide if I am going to live in my hurt and anger or forgive Cyrus.
It should be an easy decision.
His heartfelt confession should make it easy to forgive and move forward.
But right now, nothing feels easy.