Chapter 36
Bayleigh
It’s been two days since I left home after Benton’s outburst.
I should have returned home by now, but I don’t want to.
Benton’s been blowing up my phone. But I refuse to respond to him.
I’ve left his messages on read. The guys must have sensed my feelings, and they offered for me to stay as long as I wanted.
Even gave me their guestroom to stay in.
I messaged my mom, letting her know where I was, and she brought me some clothes, toiletries, and my laptop.
She never pressured me to come home, just made sure I was safe.
The guys have all been sweet, attentive, caring, and kind.
At first, I only spoke in small pieces, a word here, a sentence there, bracing myself every time I used my voice.
Not once have they laughed at me, or snickered at how my voice sounds.
For once, I don’t feel ashamed to use it.
I even told them about my implant. How I can make out certain tones, but not enough to truly hear.
Then I shared how it’s failing, that soon even the small sounds I do hear, will be completely gone, and there’ll be nothing but bone chilling-silence.
They held me while I cried about the loss of even the little bit of sound I experience and reassured me that . . .
Their home has somehow already become my sanctuary, gently tucked away from the world. I still go online and do my PR work for the Krakens. Luckily, I have enough footage that I don’t need to go to the rink, so I’m spared from that. For the time being anyway.
A small piece of brightness in the dark.
Lincoln makes me coffee every morning. I’ve even helped him perfect some of his signs so he’s able to understand me a little better—though honestly, the improvement is all his. Watching how fast he’s moved through his ASL classes, how hard he works at it, still catches me off guard in the best way.
Milton’s taught me a dice game. Once I got the gist of it, he started purposely losing. When I called him out on it, he told me it’s because he wants to see me smile. Korbin pretends to be uninterested, but I catch him watching my interactions with the both of them out of the corner of my eye.
I’ve used my voice more than I ever have.
Not the entire time, but when writing everything becomes too much.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to start making fun of my speech.
But they don’t. I even see a twinkle of excitement in their eyes when I do use my voice.
Like Benton used to get when I’d speak, but it’s different, too. Warmer.
They even encourage me to talk when I shy away from it. It’s refreshing to finally have someone other than my parents and brother wanting that. There’s no pity, or wincing when I talk like others have done in the past.
When Milton and Korbin go to practice, they message when they can in the group chat that Korbin is now part of. Lincoln comes back to the house on his lunch break, always bringing me something to eat. It’s almost as if we’re a pack. Just without being bonded.
I love it.
It’s a warm, familiar, comforting feeling I never expected to experience. Especially after Joseph rejected me. All because I wasn’t good enough in his eyes. I wasn’t a perfect omega. Nor would I ever be.
I’m in the kitchen cooking dinner when I feel someone’s arms slip around my waist, and I let out a startled scream. I’m quickly turned around and come face to face with Lincoln.
My eyes lock on his mouth as he speaks while simultaneously letting go of me and signing.
“I’m sorry, Bayleigh.”
“It’s okay.” I manage to speak through deep breaths, my hand over my heart as I try to calm myself.
“I wasn’t thinking. Forgive me?” He gives me a pouty, puppy dog face, and I can’t help but smile.
“Yes.” I come up on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kiss him. Soft at first, but then deeper. My lips part, allowing his tongue to slip through them, moving against my own.
When we finally break apart, he looks at me as if I hung the moon. “I’m going to shower. Be back soon.”
I smile, and when he turns and walks away, I make sure to watch his ass. It’s a nice one. And that’s when Milton and Korbin decide to come through the back door, catching me in the act. Korbin gives me a wink as he drops his gym bag on the floor and takes off his shoes.
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks in my direction. We’ve been cordial; he’s not been rude, but there’s still this tenseness between us. Other than when we’re all together, he doesn’t speak much, and we’ve only had a couple of conversations via text. Yet, I sense something softening between us.
I turn around to the counter, pick up the knife and go back to chopping the potatoes and vegetables in front of me. Tonight I’m making dinner. I messaged them earlier and told them I was tired of takeout and wanted to cook for them. I’m not the greatest, like my mom, but she taught me a few tricks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Korbin moving up to the sink, a plastic container and cup in his hand, brushing my shoulder faintly as he does so.
My pulse stutters at his closeness. His peach and honeydew scent overpowers me, filling me with warmth.
His presence, the steadiness, knots my stomach tightly, and I can't quite look in his direction, opting to steal glances of him out of the corner of my eye.
He doesn’t tap me on the shoulder, try to speak to me, or use any of the few signs that he’s taken the time to learn. Instead, he starts washing the container and cup, a faint tick present in his jaw.
I take a deep breath, wondering if he hears it. If he’s even paying attention to me as he turns the water on and starts washing the dishes in his hand. But he doesn’t stop there; he washes the ones sitting in the sink as well.
My fingers grip the knife tighter than necessary.
Too tight.
My breath shortens, shallow and fast.
Milton steps to the other side of me, his body flush against mine, and my pulse quickens. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his body against mine. He opens the cabinet in front of me and rummages for a snack.
My traitorous body reacts, and I can smell my perfume getting stronger. Does he smell it? He’s not acting like he does. Or does it not affect him?
A million questions are jumbled in my brain, and I can’t focus. Not with him here, this close to me.
Carrots. I need to cut the carrots next.
Focus on the cutting board. On anything except the man at my side.
But my hands won’t stop shaking.
Then it happens; the knife slips.
I gasp, involuntary—more startled than pained. Bright red wells instantly, a bead of blood plumping along the cut before it trails downward.
“Shit—” bursts from me as I jerk my hand back.
It’s not deep, not dangerous, but it bleeds fast, running along the curve of my knuckle. My heart rate spikes even more as embarrassment crashes over me harder than the ache in my finger. My anxiety floods hot and thick, throat tight.
Korbin transforms from being a bystander to jumping in, taking charge, his alpha dominance seeping from his every pore.
He takes hold of my wrist, pulling my hand so it’s under the faucet. I can feel his warm breath on my neck as he cleans my finger.
My eyes drift upward to look at his face, and I catch the words he’s saying.
“Fucking knives don’t need to be that damn sharp.” He opens the drawer to the side of us and pulls out a dishtowel, wrapping it around my finger, applying pressure as he guides me over to the table.
My eyes stay on his mouth, confused about his genuine concern for me.
“Milton.” I see him say before he turns away from me and I can’t see what he’s saying.
There’s a deep rumble of his voice filtering through my implant, but nothing more.
There’s no clarity of words, and my mind is closer to being made up to just have the damn thing removed.
It's not helping and only makes me angrier, more heartbroken when it doesn’t do its job.
It doesn’t let me hear words. The only thing it does is make me feel more isolated.
Milton appears beside him, Lincoln there as well.
What happened? Lincoln signs.
“We need to take her to the hospital?” Milton says slowly.
“Stop!” Korbin says next, his hand hitting the table as it does. Did he scream it?
“I cut...” deep breath, “my finger. I’m fine,” I manage to say, hoping to calm the crazed alpha in the room.
“She’s not fucking fine. She almost cut her finger off because that knife was too fucking sharp,” Korbin replies, his peach-and-honeydew scent thickening with anger and protectiveness, crowding the air without him taking another step.
He’s patting my finger dry, then applying pressure again when he sees blood appear.
Milton sits down beside him and teases him. “Relax, man, she didn’t lose the finger.” He leans over, doing his own inspection as he opens the medicine box in his hand. “She doesn’t need stitches; it’s not that deep. We have some bonding glue that will work, and then we can put a band-aid on it.”
“You think you’re a doctor now.” Korbin’s face is stern, but he holds the edges of the cut together as Milton applies the glue. Lincoln sits down beside me, his body pressed firmly against mine.
“Fuck you, Korbin.” His brows furrow as they continue to work. Lincoln leans in, giving me a kiss on my cheek, and Milton looks up and winks as he finishes applying the glue. He waves his hand over it, helping it to dry before applying a band-aid.
“Thank… you. Korbin,” I say out loud, and I can’t help but feel something for him forming deep inside me when he smiles back at me.
“You’re welcome. I’m going to order us some food.”
I don’t get a chance to protest before he’s pulled out his phone, calling someone as he steps out of the room.