Chapter 38 #2
Sorry, just saw your message. But you brought my favorite, and I’m still starving, so don’t think I’m not going to eat it.
He just rolls his eyes at me.
“Get us some napkins, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”
He turns and leaves, bags and drinks in hand. I decide to wrap my sandwich in aluminum foil and place it in the refrigerator for later. Schnitzel does sound better anyway.
I do, however, take my coffee along with the napkins with me and make my way to the living room, sitting down on the couch beside him as I pick up the remote and turn on the television. It’s on a sports news channel, and I leave it there. For now, anyway.
James taps me on my shoulder, and I turn to him.
You look different today.
Heat rises, and I can’t help but look away for a second. But that one act is telling enough for him.
Something did happen. Spill now. I need all the tea.
I bite my lip, and then my hands start flying, sharing all the details. From Lincoln picking me up. The lake. All the way to losing my virginity. He listens, never speaking, digesting it all.
Are you okay? How do you feel now?
I love that he’s not judging me but asking how I’m doing in the aftermath.
Amazing. He told me I was it for him. He wants me to be his omega.
James lets out a squeal as he stands and does a shimmy dance. I wait for him to calm down before telling him the rest. How the three of us hung out after, eating, talking and watching television. Then I tell him about Milton. How he held my hand like I meant the world to him. About us making out.
Bayleigh, brother’s rival or not, you’ve hit the jackpot with those alphas.
I know. It’s like a dream.
He pushes a plate over to me, handing me the package with silverware and then my drink.
Let’s eat. Once we’re done, we can watch Wicked. Again.
Deal.
We eat, but the conversation doesn’t stop. Between bites, he starts asking more questions.
Your heat is coming.
Yes. In like two weeks or so if my calculations are right.
James gives me a knowing look, like I’m missing the question he’s asking but hasn’t actually spoken. I pick up a fry that’s coated in gravy and eat it.
Are you gonna ask someone to help you? Or are you playing chicken with biology again?
I roll my eyes at him. My cheeks burn, and I debate telling him before giving in. He is my bestie, and he’d tell me if I was crazy or not.
I actually talked with Lincoln about it last night. Asked him to go through my heat with me.
James lights up instantly.
“Good,” he says, both signed and spoken. “You should ask Milton too. Maybe even Korbin.”
I choke on a bite of Schnitzel, smacking his shoulder once I recover. He only shrugs, taking a bite of his own food before signing.
What? Milton sounds sweet. Safe. And you like him. And he likes you, even if he’s taking his sweet ass time showing you. You’re an omega, babe. Run the show. Have all the alpha knots.
I hide my face with my hands, laughing, though the warm flutter in my chest tells me he’s not wrong.
Maybe I will. Let’s watch Wicked now.
That’s my girl. Now I need to find me some alphas.
James gives me a wink, and we settle in, spending the rest of the day binge-watching television. Making popcorn, eating snacks, and when my parents get home, he stays for dinner.
Throughout it all, the guys and I message back and forth. Not only in our group chat, but privately as well.
Even Benton, when he comes home, is unusually nice. Never once bringing up the guys.
I’m on cloud nine.
The next morning, I wake up with a new determination. I’ve spoken with Lincoln about helping me through my heat. But today I plan to ask him what he thinks about Milton joining us.
I run over the conversation a million times in my head, thinking of every answer he could potentially give me.
Logic finally wins out. I’ll simply ask him if he'd be okay if Milton joined and helped him if he needed it. I’ve heard it’s hard for one alpha to sustain an omega in heat, and I don’t want to be a burden to him.
They’ve all mentioned their intentions for me.
Is it too soon to think about my heat with the others?
Lincoln and I, well, we’ve had sex. It’s just logical for him at this point.
I don’t want him to think he’s not enough or that I care about one of them more than the other.
Fuck me, how do multi-member packs do this?
My parents choose to just be with each other.
So it’s not like they have any insight for me.
My stomach swirls with nerves the entire drive to their house. But when I get there, no one's home. No one answers the door. I should’ve messaged them. Lincoln’s probably at work, and the guys are most likely at the rink or doing something press wise.
I just sit there in the driveway for a long moment. My heart deflated, any excitement unhurriedly cooling into disappointment. Should I message them? Tell them I’m here? Fuck, that makes me sound needy. I haven’t heard from them since this morning.
Reaching down to the console, I pick up my phone and open the group chat.
One simple message, that's it. Then I’ll play off what they say.
I type a simple hey whats up and hit send.
I wait for a minute. There’s no response.
No tiny bubbles bouncing even, saying someone’s typing.
No little checkmark indicating t’s been read.
I’m being ridiculous.
I decide to leave, starting my car and backing out of the driveway and onto the street.
I make it to the first red light when my phone lights up in bright rapid flashes, my custom alert for any and everything Brooks or Scorpion related.
I wanted to make sure I was notified of any leaks having to do with our relationship.
My pulse jumps as I open the screen. It’s an official PR release from the Scorpions.
SCORPIONS PR OFFICIAL ALERT:
The caption gets my attention right away, and I drive until I find a safe place to pull over and read the PR release. My heart pounding as I shift the car into gear and read.
Goalie Milton Grady and Defenseman Korbin Brooks will be meeting with Omega-Match Corp today at 11 AM to discuss compatibility charts and review a selection of pre-approved omega candidates.
My stomach drops, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Milton. And Korbin. Meeting with the matchmaker. Talking about what they want in an omega. Looking at matches the agency thinks will fit them.
My hands start shaking. I was going to ask them for help. For the first time, I let hope in. Trusted someone other than my family and my best friend. I allowed myself to want something, someone. More than someone, three people.
But they’re meeting with the matchmaker today. It had to have been scheduled. And yet, no one mentioned it to me. Even this morning when they sent their good morning messages.
I swallow hard, forcing air into my lungs.
Of the three of them, I expected Lincoln to tell me. To warn me what was coming. But he didn’t.
My fingers trembling, I start typing him a message.
Me: What ya doing?
Unlike the group chat, his message this time is almost instant.
Lincoln: Went with Milton and Korbin to the rink. What’s up?
So he’s there. Why not message me earlier when I messaged the group? I switch to that chat to see if I missed anything. They all saw it. But no one messaged.
Me: At the rink?
Lincoln: Yeah, watching them practice and stuff. I can’t talk right now.
The half-truth hits harder than any rejection I’ve ever lived through. He can’t talk right now. I guess not; they’re busy looking at potential omegas. I grip the steering wheel, breathing shallowly, vision blurring as my body goes cold.
I can’t believe that I let myself trust again. That I opened my heart to them. Lincoln even took my virginity. Was it just a game?
How could I have been so stupid to believe this time might be different? Might be safe? Lincoln was probably being kind, taking the deaf girl’s v-card. I bet the three of them had a good laugh about it afterward.
Milton was probably being friendly, crossing kiss pathetic omega off his bucket list. Korbin was probably acting on instinct and rage toward Benton. And me… I let myself dream for the first time in forever.
My throat tightens until I can barely swallow. Because in one instant, one post, one lie—every inch of hope and trust I’d built with them shatters.
Benton was right. They’re not good people. They used me.
Dreams are just that, and I’ll never have another one again.