Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
We all sit at the dining room table, two-by-two at the center, none of us sitting at either end. Asher is beside me on one side, Matthew and Izzy across from us. The spread of food is mouthwatering, if I say so myself.
I took Matthew’s advice on how to prepare the turkey and mashed potatoes, with extra roasted garlic and butter, and every time she bites into the food, there’s this moan she emits that makes my heart race.
And it’s obvious I’m not the only one affected by the looks on both Asher and Matthew’s faces when their gazes snap to Izzy.
Last year, Asher and I spent Thanksgiving together as pack brothers, and I had never been so happy. Not since my parents died.
Before last year, my friend Vaughn and his family had insisted on me spending the holidays with them. I’m ashamed to admit that I never took them up on their offer, nearly hiding away here, alone. Lying, because I’d told them I had guests who were staying in and I needed to host.
I didn’t lie about the guests, but none of them stayed in for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
As I look around the table at the jovial faces, a strange combination of joy and sorrow overtakes me.
This is supposed to be my pack. No, it is my pack. Each one of them. But we’re not official in any capacity, and I don’t even know if Izzy realizes what we are. Asher had told me Matthew does, but he’s resistant for whatever reasons he’s keeping to himself.
When Izzy tells me for the millionth time how delicious the food is, I smile in return, my heart thumping in my chest like every time before.
She’s so beautiful and kind. She’s exactly the Omega my parents would have wanted for me.
She’s the Omega I’ve waited my whole life for, in every way.
“So, Iz,” Matthew pipes up. “Are you stepping on your bosses?”
Huh?
This knowing look passes between them as she laughs, head shaking, gray eyes crinkling. “You bet I’ve been.”
“Stepping on… what?” Asher’s confusion is obvious in his voice.
Izzy lets out another laugh. “I have this thing… It’s weird, I warn you.
But there was this older woman, a neighbor from when I was growing up.
She practiced an old religion that not many do anymore.
But, anyway, she had this method for rising above obstacles and adversity that people tried to put in your way.
” She leans over and reaches for something under the table, coming back to sit up with her slipper in hand.
She reaches inside where the toe cover is and pulls out three torn pieces of paper, fanning them like playing cards.
“Each of these has the name of one of the shareholder dick-sucking bosses who fired me.” She’s completely unapologetic as she says it, and I can’t stop the laugh that erupts from my chest.
“Tell us how you really feel,” I hum.
“And that’s how she steps on them,” Matthew adds, more humor in his eyes than I’ve ever seen.
“It’s symbolism for squashing them under your foot and keeping them out of your way,” Izzy explains as she slips her slipper back on and sits up with a grin. “It rarely doesn’t make me feel better.”
The energy shifts beside her before Matthew asks in a soft voice, “Did my name ever get squished?”
Her head whips to him, and it’s a breath before she replies. “No, Matthew. I never had the desire to push you out of my path.”
There’s a heated look between them that makes me feel like a voyeur.
“Well,” Asher chimes, “CheckPoint Games is going to regret letting you go, Izzy. Bits of paper in your shoe or not.”
“CheckPoint Games?” I ask, my wide eyes flitting from Asher to Izzy. “I’ve played so many of their games.”
Action RPGs had always been my favorite game genre, and they were the top producers in the industry.
Izzy grumbles on a sigh. “Yeah. I was a character designer and artist there for years.”
“What games did you work on?” I can’t help myself.
A smirk crosses her lips, her eyes going warm. “Let’s see. I worked on Yavin-8, Fantasmaland, Death of an Archon, and I was just wrapping production on Yavin-8: Return to Solaris when I got the ax.”
I’m gaping at her, I know it.
I’ve played all of those games. I even have posters of some of them on the wall in my bedroom in the apartment.
Matthew smiles as Asher laughs beside me. “You have a fanboy, Izzy,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“You game?” both Izzy and Matthew ask at the same time.
I silently nod before sipping my beer and clearing my throat. “Those are some of my favorite games.” There’s no way I can get through a conversation about those games without embarrassing myself with enthusiasm. Thankfully, Matthew chimes in.
“If Izzy hadn’t worked for them, we never would have met.
” He tilts his head to look at her, then turns to me and Asher.
“I’m a GamerTube streamer and content creator,” he explains.
“I used to be really popular, actually. Popular enough that CheckPoint Games invited me to tour their building for my channel. They were local, so I went, glad for the content.” He lets out a chuckle.
“They sponsored me to play Fantasmaland at the time, and Iz was the one they asked to give me the rundown on camera.”
Izzy nearly snorts. “Yeah, they wanted a chick to rep the company back then.”
“A hot chick.” Matthew nudges her with his shoulder. “I think that video is still my highest viewed.”
Izzy goes a little pink in the face, and I make a mental note to look the video up later.
“I had a really difficult time keeping on topic during our interview, and was a pretty arrogant shit then. Decided to shoot my shot and asked Iz to get a drink with me after work.”
I’m in awe.
“CheckPoint Games was how we met,” Asher chimes. “Well, not by me interviewing Izzy, but I’d been hired to voice some characters in Death of an Archon. They had an in-house recording studio, so I’d spent long days there. One afternoon, I bumped into Izzy in a corridor.”
“Seems to keep happening,” she muses, lips pursing with humor.
Asher chuckles. “That it does.”
“So, Izzy. Which character was your favorite to design?” I get out the question that’s been burning my brain throughout this entire conversation.
She gets this sparkly look to her eyes as her gaze casts upward, as though she’s looking into the past.
“Gavrilla from Death of an Archon,” she says. “That woman was a force to be reckoned with. Kicked my ass, actually.”
“How’s that?” I ask.
Her eyes settle on me. “She had a lot of little intricate parts to her armor that I needed to model separately. Like, multiple thigh sheathes with everything from daggers to vials to handguns and wooden stakes.” Her laughter is joyous.
“And then she had costume changes, like all the other characters in that game. When you leveled up and upgraded your armor, either parts of or the entire outfit would change, depending. But honestly,” her smile broadens, “Gav was the most beautiful character I ever designed. We really pushed the limits of the technology in that game, and the 3D designs were just about as realistic as we could make them back then. She’s always stuck with me, and I know she always will. ”
The passion she emits enraptures me. All I want is to hear more about her work, which she obviously loves. But I know there’s a sadness there, too, for what she’s lost.
And in me, there’s a realization.
I am absolutely in love with Izzy Ross.