Chapter 18
chapter
eighteen
“Remi…”Meg’s voice sighs through the phone. “Are you calling me from the floor of your closet right now?”
I hiccup. “No.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she points out, but there’s no heat to it. “Tell me what happened? Are you safe?”
I burrow further into Cass’s old sweatshirt, whining when it doesn’t smell like him at all. When I try to tell her the whole story, I find I can’t get past the Cassian part without her freaking out.
She interrupts, her voice is low. “The guy from the group home is your alpha?”
“Well, he’s not?—”
“And he’s been waiting for you this entire time?”
“Well, it depends on what you mean by ‘waiting,’ but ye?—”
“HOLY FUCK! Did you take pictures? Oh, wait! Names! Give me the pack name. I’m already typing.”
Her enthusiasm makes me dizzy. I hear her thumbs against her phone’s screen. A second after I manage to get the name out, she shrieks.
An alarmed male voice snaps over the line. “What? What’s wrong? Peaches?”
Theo is clearly distressed that his omega sounds like a hamster that’s about to be dropped into a blender. I don’t blame him, but I’m running out of time to process what just happened.
“Meg?!”
My best friend stammers, and I hear her hand her alpha the phone, then yank it back. Theo makes a loud whooping sound and bursts into laughter.
“Oh my God, Remi. Cassian is Cassian King?”
“BEASTLY,” Theo roars. “Oh fuck yeah, this is going to be awesome! I’m gonna go buy season tickets. Dibs on groomsman.”
Meg’s excitement quickly turns to accusation. “You bitch!” she squeals. “You get Damon Mathers, too?”
I want to cringe into nothing. Not after the way I just ran out of there. “Um, I mean…”
“Are they coming to get you?” she blabbers, so excited that it hurts my heart. “Are you packing? Please take the panties that don’t come with a chastity belt attached. And make sure you have them help you move any big stuff.”
The image of the Pierson pack in my hovel of an apartment is almost darkly comical. Or, actually, just… dark. My heart palpates from thinking about it, and not in a good way.
Lord.
Maybe it’s for the best that I’ll officially be alone forever. If they ever came here, I would be mortified. Cassian would see his ratty old hoodie in my bed. If we actually courted, he would see everything. My pitiful little apartment. My even-more-pitiful bank account.
And Smith, with his perfect clothing and his expensive haircut… I already know he thinks I’m trash because of the way he talks to me at work. If he sees that I’m using books to prop up my futon? He’d probably sneer so hard, he’d break his own nose.
Damon seems the most laid-back of the three, but he’s so gorgeous. If he didn’t mind the apartment, he would probably change his mind once he saw how I really look under all my makeup.
Who am I kidding? I’m sure they’ve all already changed their minds. They’re probably talking to Celine about being re-matched as we speak.
Try as I might not to let it, the thought of being left behind sinks its claws into my stomach, slicing deep.
No one has ever wanted to keep me.
Cassian knows that. He saw it happen. I was always the reject; returned like a defective purchase.
Why would he want someone like that?
Meg is still shrieking. “Remi! Why aren’t you jumping up and down?!”
I sniff, swiping at the corners of my eyes so my makeup doesn’t run, feeling so overwhelmed I can barely think. “Yeah,” I lie. “Y-you’re right. It’s great! I, um, I should go, though. I need to be ready when…”
The sun still rises tomorrow.
And the next day? I have to go back to work. With Smith.
If I even have a job anymore.
Which is unlikely, actually.
“…they come to get me.”
Theo’s booming voice cuts in. “Congratulations, Remi! I can’t believe I’m going to get to meet Beastly! That guy is a monster. Best goalie in the NHL.”
I’ve always hated those nicknames. Monster. Beastly. They don’t suit Cassian at all. Even now that he’s enormous.
It’s surreal to even think about him as a fully grown adult. When I was still a teenager, I used to curl onto the floor of whatever makeshift nest I had, picturing him in there with me. Knowing he’d grumble and frown, but find some way to squeeze himself in without verbalizing a single complaint.
Bear.
He was always like that. Big, burly, with that thick, long hair he refused to cut. He acted gruff and prickly, but his heart was soft; and he always made room for me, no matter where we were.
Maybe he actually wasn’t so irritated by me after all.
He probably is now.
The urge to return to him is so strong, I feel dizzy and nauseous from resisting. A whimper rattles my throat and I apologize. “Sorry.”
Meg guffaws. “Sorry?! It’s normal to feel this way, Rems! It just means they’re really your mates!”
My mates.
I feel the words, deep down, tugging at me. And I know they’re true. It’s real.
But it’s also impossible.