Chapter 21 #2
“I’m so sorry I didn’t make it back for the funeral.” I apologized to Nigel, but I owe them all this apology. I should have made the time.
Her smile falters, but she quickly recovers. “Don’t worry about that,” she tells me, squeezing my arms. “You were halfway across the world. Trevor wouldn’t have approved of you abandoning your work for a silly funeral.”
I want to protest that it wasn’t silly, but her gaze skips to the men behind me.
“My, my. Who are these handsome fellows?” She grins at me, insisting on an introduction. Course correcting me. She doesn’t want to talk about Trevor.
Sniffing, I bat away a stray tear and clear my throat. “Emeline, this is Pack Flynn.”
The guys introduce themselves one by one, shaking her hand, and with each introduction, Emeline’s gaze shimmers with approval.
“Honey, should we let them in before they catch a cold?” Theodore’s hands fall to her shoulders.
His long brown hair is pulled back, and his signature button-up bowling-style shirt has martini glasses all over it.
There are more lines on his face than I remember, and they have me choking up again. “Well, hello there, Ms. Olivia.”
The familiar nickname tugs at my heartstrings. I left home, and suddenly the people I care about most have started to show their age. Life expectancies and health conditions to worry about threaten to clog my thoughts, but I force those and my sorrow back. I don’t want this visit to be depressing.
I’m truly happy to see them.
Emeline and Theodore let us in, and as soon as the door is closed, Theodore tugs me into a warm embrace. His hugs rival Nigel’s. They’re steady. Comforting. More than I can say for my own family’s. Trevor’s were great too.
“Where’s Nigel?” I ask, fighting through the ache of grief in my throat.
“Cooking up a storm.” Emeline tips her head toward the kitchen.
Their home is older, each room still separated rather than open concept.
Unlike the main property, they haven’t had the funds to renovate.
Really, that should fall to my parents, but I doubt the thought has ever crossed my mother’s mind. “Shall we head in?”
“Is it safe?” I tease.
She smiles. “There’s only one way to find out!”
Nigel glances up from the stove when we walk in, grinning at his omega before giving me a soft smile. “Perfect timing, the food is ready.”
“Great. I’ll help get the table set.” Emeline joins me at the cupboard, handing me a stack of plates that are immediately taken by Hayes. She chuckles and hands me the salad bowls, but Wilder grabs those. “Hey!”
“Shh. Let it happen,” he whispers, kissing my temple.
Emeline watches him leave and sighs. “I remember falling in love.”
“They don’t—”
“Anyone with eyes can see they adore you, Liv.” She draws me toward the cabinet that holds the silverware. “Do you feel safe?”
“Yes.” There’s no question about that. This pack makes me feel more than safe.
They make me feel cherished. Special. Loved.
But it’s too soon for love. Logically speaking.
Still, my gaze strays to the guys, who are helping set out the glasses and filling them up with wine.
They work with Theodore like they’ve been coming here for years.
As if they belong.
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, hear Emeline laugh under her breath, and shoot my gaze back to meet hers.
“Yeah. That look? You’re falling, pretty girl.”
“But neuroscience—”
“Doesn’t know everything. Don’t you have outliers in your own research?”
I pause, mind reeling. There are always outliers. Things that deviate from the expectations. “You think we’re outliers?”
“I think,” she says, handing me a stack of forks, “that you know what’s in your heart, but that big brain of yours is getting in the way.”
“I like my brain.”
She nods. “I do, too, but logic isn’t always right when it comes to love.” Her hand pauses on the edge of the cutlery tray. She sucks in a breath and lifts the tray, snatching a yellow sticky note with writing on it.
“What’s that?”
She swallows, her eyes zipping back and forth, reading the note over and over. “Trevor would leave these around the house for me to find.” Her voice cracks, eyes filling with tears.
I glance at the note.
My beautiful omega. Your smile brightens every room.
A choked sound slips out of Emeline. Tears track down her cheeks, and I ignore the clenching in my chest and wrap her in my arms. She doesn’t hug me back. Her arms simply hang at her sides. My grief is nothing compared to hers. Every omega's nightmare is to lose a member of her pack.
I pull back. “Are you okay?”
Her watery eyes meet mine, anger shimmering beneath the sorrow. “Fine.” She crumples the note in her hand and tosses it onto the counter before grabbing her handful of cutlery and heading to the table. By the time she gets there, she’s pulled herself together, as if nothing happened at all.
“She’ll be okay,” Nigel says. He’s standing with a dish of the pasta he prepared, watching his omega. “Some days are better than others.”
“Has she exhibited any fits of rage?”
“Don’t start,” Nigel murmurs.
“Two out of ten omegas who lose a pack member—”
He glares at me. “Olivia. Stop.”
I rear back, snap my mouth closed, and nod. “I’m sorry.”
Sighing, he softens his features. “It’s okay. But I promise, Emeline is fine.”
Not wanting to press, I simply smile and change the subject. “What else can I help you with?”
“There’s a salad in the fridge.”
“I’ll grab it,” Theodore jumps in.
Nigel gives him a grateful look. “Then all that’s left for you to do is sit down.” He tips his head toward the table.
Emeline’s smile is bright as she chats with my pack, but something about her posture feels off.
Like it’s forced relaxation. Unease swirls inside me.
Some part of me senses the anger simmering beneath her skin.
I sit next to her, and her eyes flit to me, her smile widening. Too forced. Too performative.
I glance at my pack to see if they notice, but Nigel is setting the dish down, distracting everyone.
Does Nigel truly not see his omega? Or is he clinging to hope that she’ll be okay?
That she won’t be yet another statistic?
Theodore brushes his hand over Emeline’s shoulder, but where she would normally lean into it, she ignores the touch.
Everyone starts to fill their plates, focused on my pack telling everyone what they do for a living. Emeline serves herself. I reach for the dish, and she hands it over, but when I start to pull it, she holds on for three seconds too long. Her eyes narrow.
I swallow, trying not to feed her reactions.
Going feral isn’t an instantaneous process.
It’s slow cracks. Baby steps. Unbearable grief that gradually morphs into uncontrollable rage.
A sickness that takes its time settling in and refuses to leave.
Theodore murmurs something to Emeline, pulling her attention from me.
A harsh exhale rushes out of me.
“Everything okay?” Liam murmurs.
“Uh, yeah.” I’ll have to explain things to them later. If I bring it up again, it’ll only upset Nigel, and who knows how Emeline would react.
“Livvy,” Nigel says. “What are you doing for your birthday?”
“Oh.” My birthday is in two months, and I haven’t really planned anything. “I actually don’t know.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “We’d love to help you celebrate. Have you and the pack over.”
“That would be—”
“You’re not going to ask your omega if that’s okay?” Emeline snaps.
Silence blankets the table. Heavy. Louder than conversation itself. Nigel’s eyes widen and he sits a little straighter. “Right, of course. Emeline, should we invite Livvy over for her birthday?”
Emeline’s head tilts, irritation flashing in her eyes. “Her name is Olivia, Nigel.”
“Emmie,” he murmurs, features scrunching in confusion.
“Nig,” she mocks, leaning forward.
“Honey,” Theodore coaxes. “Perhaps we should take a breath.”
“Oh, stop with the breathing, Theo! Breathing won’t bring Trevor back!” Her gaze shoots around the table. “Don’t fucking look at me!” she snarls, shoving her glass of wine over and knocking Theodore’s water over as well. Liquid splashes across the table.
Chairs scrape back from the table, avoiding the spillage. Emeline’s breaths are steadily coming faster and faster.
“Emeline,” I say softly, “what do you feel?”
She glares at me. “What do I feel?” She stands and leans into my space, one hand on the back of my chair. Her scent is putrid, almost unbearable, but I stay as still as possible and don’t react. “I’m not a fucking science experiment,” she hisses.
“I know, Emeline.” I pause. “This reaction is—”
Her palm cracks across my face. Pain and heat erupt, but it’s the ache in my chest that hurts the most, because the Emeline I know and love would never hurt me. This isn’t her. Not fully. That sticky note from Trevor set her off.
Nigel and Theodore both shoot to their feet.
“That’s enough, Emeline. Go to your nest and cool off,” Theodore barks.
Emeline slowly turns, violence written across her features, and that in itself is scarier than if she was to start screaming. She resists his bark. The struggle has her steps moving to obey but her torso leaning back.
“Go to your nest,” he commands again.
“No,” she shouts, even as she loses the battle and begins moving toward the back of the house. “Fuck you,” she snarls, jabbing her finger in everyone’s direction. “Fuck you all!”
“Are you okay?” Liam turns my face toward him, forehead wrinkled. “She got you good.” Sawyer, Hayes, and Wilder all crowd around me, forming a protective wall.
“I’ll grab an ice pack,” Nigel says solemnly once the door to the nest slams, rattling the walls.
Theodore rubs the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“Why did she do that?” Sawyer asks.
“She’s grieving,” Theodore explains.
I stand, patting Liam’s arm when he moves to help me. I nudge my way between the guys, ignoring the soft growls from the alphas. They’re on high alert because I was hurt. “She’s displaying markers of going feral.”
Theodore shakes his head hard. “No.”
“Theodore. She’s exhibiting signs of rage and agitation. She needs to see a doctor.”
“No,” he says again, slicing his hand through the air. “She’s not going feral.”
Nigel appears, exhaling in exasperation. “This again? I told you, Emeline is fine.”
“She’s not.” If they refuse to see a doctor, to at least get the medicine that slows the mutations, they may lose her soon. “A doctor—”
“Olivia,” Nigel chastises. “I know your heart is in the right place, but this is a pack decision.”
And you aren’t pack. The unspoken words crack across my skin. Throat tight, eyes burning, I drop my gaze. “Right. Of course.”
Hayes places a supportive palm on my back. “Olivia loves you. All of you. Emeline, included. She’s only trying to help. You don’t have to insult her.”
Nigel pulls back, features breaking. “Oh, Livvy. I’m so sorry.” His voice is thick with emotion, and Theodore moves to his packmate, draping his arm over Nigel’s shoulder. “It’s been a hard year.”
I nod in understanding. I’m not mad. Hurt? Yes, but I can’t force them to go see a specialist. They have to make that decision. I’m only terrified they’ll wait too long. “It’s all right,” I say.
Nigel pushes the ice pack into my hand. I press it to my cheek, the twinge of pain a momentary reprieve from the fear and anxiety about Emeline.
The only good thing about the situation is that she’s not far along.
There’s still time to get her treatment to delay the effects, and maybe, just maybe, my team will figure out the magic formula.
Given how many times we’ve failed, it’s a long shot, but I cling to that hope, because right now, that’s the only thing that might save Emeline.
A short while later, the pack decides it's time to leave, and I don’t fight them.
I’m not even hungry anymore. Nigel and Theodore trail us on the way to the door.
The quiet yawning between us should tell them that this is serious, but part of me understands that they’re in denial.
They lost Trevor. They don’t, maybe even can’t, bear to think about losing Emeline as well.
Nigel pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, for everything. My tone. Emeline. The ruined dinner.”
I hug him back, fighting tears. “She needs help, Nigel.”
He ignores my last plea as he releases me. “You know I love you like a daughter, Olivia, right?”
I nod. Nigel has always been there. He’s supported me more than my own family ever has.
“You have a good pack,” he whispers. “They’ll treat you like a princess, but if they don’t, you’ll tell me?”
His approval means everything. “Of course,” I say, blinking back tears. I know so much about what Emeline is going through, and I hate that they don’t want my help, but it's their decision. “If you need help,” I begin, glancing at Theodore to include him, “call me. I will drop everything to help.”
“We’ll be okay,” Theodore says.
Swallowing my counterargument, the statistics and data that say he’s wrong, I relent and leave them with that promise. Hopefully they’ll take me up on my offer sooner rather than later.