Chapter 10 #2
“Josie, if anyone finds out that I’m involved with them, it’ll ruin everything.
My reputation, my career, everything I’ve worked for.
” I drop my head to my arms again. “Fuck, I feel weird. I don’t get it.
I’ve been fine for months, and then all of a sudden everything is topsy-turvy.
The last couple of days have been ridiculous.
I’m hot, I’m cold. I’m happy, I’m sad. I could barely concentrate all day before… well, you know.”
Baby refills my glass and gives me a long, assessing look. “Question. Are you on those suppressants the APbrA has you taking? And your OG suppressants?”
I blink at the sudden change in subject. “Yes. Why?”
Josie gives me a look that makes my stomach tighten.
“What?” I demand.
“Willa,” Josie says carefully, “suppressants… they can mess with your hormones, your emotions. Make everything feel more intense or more confusing. You know that, right?”
“No, I just figured they were like my normal ones,” I say.
“Well, APbrA suppressants are a different type, and I’ve heard from some of the regulars who come into my shop that it took them quite a few months for their bodies to adjust to the new normal of being on the double dose.”
“You think the suppressants are making me feel this way?”
“I think the suppressants are making you feel unbalanced,” Josie corrects. “But the attraction? That’s all you, honey.”
Baby snorts. “Of course it is. She’s finally around hot-as-hell Alphas.”
“What happened to our No Cowboys rule?” I glare at her. “The No Cowboys Club exists for a reason.”
“Yeah, because we were all tired of dealing with cocky assholes who thought owning a ranch made them God’s gift to women,” Baby shoots back. “But that pack isn't like that. Everyone knows it. They’re good men, Willa. Good Alphas.”
Good Alphas.
I know they’re right. Even the history between me and Jake seems like water under the bridge. The look on his face when I jumped out of the truck was full of remorse and pain. The urge to comfort him and tell him everything is okay was almost too much.
It hurt to turn away from him and walk off. Even though he hurt me, even though he rejected me, a part of me still wants to hope. I just don’t know how anymore.
“Why?” Josie asks softly, interrupting my downward spiral of feeling sorry for myself. “Why does wanting them terrify you?”
“Because wanting things has never worked out well for me,” I admit.
The whiskey is loosening my tongue, making me more honest than I’d like.
“Because every time I let myself want something, someone finds a way to take it away or use it against me. My father did it my whole life. Felton did it. Hell, even Jake did it. And if I let myself want this—want them—and it falls apart, I just don’t have it in me to do the whole pick-myself-up-again thing. ”
The words hang in the air, heavy and raw. Josie’s arm tightens around me, and Baby’s expression softens.
“Willa,” Baby says quietly, “not every Alpha is your father or Felton. And you and Jake were kids. People change.”
“I know that. Logically, I know that. But knowing it and believing it are two different things.”
“So what are you going to do?” Josie asks.
All at once, a million wants fill my heart. Waking up next to Beau. Riding on the hills with Charlie like we used to. Cuddling under the stars the way I did with Jake. Laughter, love, and hope at my fingertips.
But the reality of the moment creeps in.
“I don’t know. Avoid them? Pretend it never happened? Finish out my contract and leave town before—”
My phone buzzes on the table, cutting me off. I pick it up, and it’s a number I don’t recognize. I flip my phone back over when it buzzes again. Weird—everyone I’d text is right here.
But it’s not a text. It’s a video file from an unknown number.
My stomach drops.
“What is it?” Josie leans closer, trying to see the screen.
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because I’ve already clicked on the video, and the footage that fills my screen makes my blood run cold.
It’s me and Beau. It’s a weird angle, clearly taken from far away, but it’s clear enough to see me in his arms, his hands in my hair, our mouths fused together. Clear enough to see the way I’m moving against him, the way I’m draped all over him.
Clear enough to ruin me.
The video ends, and a text pops up immediately after:
Unknown: Expect a call from the APbrA regarding your breach of contract and professional conduct. Such a shame to see a promising career end so quickly.
The phone slips from my numb fingers, clattering onto the table.
“Willa?” Josie’s voice sounds distant, muffled. “What’s wrong?”
Baby grabs the phone before I can stop her. I watch her face harden as she watches the video and reads the text.
“Son of a bitch,” she breathes.
“What? What is it?” Josie takes the phone from Baby, and I watch the color drain from her face. “Oh no. Oh, Willa.”
The good cheer from moments ago evaporates. The shock hits first—cold and sharp—but it melts almost immediately into something worse. Fear and shame, a thick well of despair that makes my hands shake, and my breath come too fast.
All my hard work. Every late night, every early morning, every time I proved myself despite the whispers and doubts. It’s all slipping through my fingers because someone decided to weaponize a private moment.
Baby’s hand closes over mine on the bar, and I flinch. Actually flinch away from her touch, like she might hurt me.
“Wills. Breathe.” Her voice is firm, grounding. “Look at me. Breathe.”
I can’t. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. The walls are closing in, and all I can see is that video playing on loop in my mind.
All I can think about is who else might see it.
What they’ll say. What they’ll think. Who took the video?
Who would do that? It feels like a violation.
The familiar feeling of nausea swims in my belly.
My father’s voice echoes in my head: You’re too emotional. Too weak. You’ll never survive in this industry. Omegas have one purpose.
Felton’s smirk when he’d corner me: Who’s going to believe you? You’re just an Omega.
“Willa.” Baby squeezes my hand harder, demanding my attention. “Stay with us.”
Somewhere distant, I hear Josie on the phone. Her voice is tight, worried, but I can’t make out the words. Can’t focus on anything except the panic clawing at my throat.
What if they post it on social media? I already have that photo of me and Jake circulating. What if this goes viral? What if every rodeo association, every stock contractor, every person I’ve ever worked with sees me like that? A thick wave of shame rolls over me.
“Okay. Okay, yes. Thank you, Daddy.” Josie’s voice breaks through the fog. “We’ll be there.”
She sets her phone down and immediately wraps both arms around me, pulling me against her chest. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
But it’s not. How can it be okay when—
“My dad just got the video too,” Josie says, her voice steady even though I can feel her trembling. “Someone sent it to the APbrA board. He said to tell you to meet him at his office first thing tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. He’ll figure this out, Willa. I promise.”
Eight a.m. Office. The words register slowly, like I’m underwater.
“What if they post it?” My voice comes out small, broken. Nothing like the confident woman I’ve been pretending to be. “What if someone puts it online? What if—”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” Baby says firmly. She’s still holding my hand, her grip almost painful now. “But spiraling about what-ifs isn’t going to help.”
She’s right. Logically, I know she’s right. But logic doesn’t stop the fear from consuming me.
Josie hugs me tighter, and I realize I’m shaking. Actually shaking like a leaf in her arms. The mortification is almost worse than the fear—letting them see me like this, falling apart, proving every doubt I’ve ever had about who I am and what my designation really means.
“Breathe, honey,” she murmurs against my hair. “Just breathe. We’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”
I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her so badly. But all I can think about is everything I’m about to lose—my job, my reputation, the life I’ve been trying so hard to build.
Baby moves around the bar, and suddenly she’s on my other side, her hand rubbing circles on my back. “Hey. Look at me.”
I lift my head just enough to meet her eyes.
“You’re not alone in this,” she says quietly. “Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever the APbrA says, whatever anyone does with that video—you’re not alone. You’ve got us. You’ve got Josie’s dad. And I’d bet money you’ve got those guys, too, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”
The mention of Beau and his pack sends a fresh wave of panic through me, but Josie’s arms tighten, keeping me anchored.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers again, rocking me slightly like I’m something precious that needs protecting. “I promise, Willa. It’s going to be okay.”
I don’t believe her. Can’t believe her. But I let her hold me anyway, let Baby’s steady presence ground me, and try to remember how to breathe through the fear.