9. Vayda #2
Forcing myself to stand, I turn the water off and step onto the bathmat. I grab a faded towel from the rack to dry off with slow, mechanical movements, my muscles screaming in protest with every stretch. The soreness deep in my core is a constant, unavoidable reminder of what happened in that shed.
Walking into my bedroom, I dig through the dresser for a clean pair of oversized gray sweatpants and a massive black hoodie that swallows my frame.
Pulling the hood up hides my damp red hair and the silver-gray roots framing my face.
Brendan needs me. I have to focus on the only person who should matter in my life.
Back in the kitchen, the linoleum floor squeaks under my bare feet. Vinny sits at the small dining table, tapping his thumb against the screen of his tablet. He looks up as I enter, his eyes doing a quick sweep of my baggy clothes and damp hair.
Vinny sets his tablet face down on the table. "Feeling any better?"
I walk over to the coffee maker, pouring myself a cup of the lukewarm sludge left over from the morning. "I'm fine. Give me the update."
Vinny swipes his tablet screen, clearing his throat as he focuses on his normal routine, pushing aside the memory of the confrontation with the hockey players.
Vinny traces a finger down a column of numbers.
"Bren had a slightly elevated heart rate the first night you were locked in the shed.
He was agitated, making a lot of vocalizations and fighting the Hoyer lift during his transfer to the bed.
I had to give him his prescribed muscle relaxers to get him to calm down. "
Guilt flares in my chest again. Brendan smelled the distress rolling off me during the initial onset of the heat. Even with a traumatic brain injury, his Alpha instincts recognized his Omega was in pain.
Vinny swipes to the next tab on the medical app.
"But he settled down the next day. His vitals have been stable since then.
He ate all his blended meals without any issues, and his incontinence schedule is normal.
I rotated his resting positions every two hours to avoid bedsores.
He's been watching his documentaries in the living room all afternoon. "
I nod, staring into my black coffee. "Okay. Thank you, Vinny. I appreciate you staying the extra shifts."
Vinny stands up and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. "It's no problem, Vayda. I'll see you tomorrow morning at eight for his mid-week shower."
Vinny walks out the front door, leaving me alone in the quiet house as the lock clicks into place.
My cell phone vibrates on the kitchen counter before I can take a sip of my coffee, the screen lighting up with Kristy's name. Staring at it for a few seconds with a clenching jaw, I finally reach out and swipe the screen to answer.
I press the phone to my ear, skipping the greeting. "You've got a lot of nerve calling me right now."
Kristy scoffs over the line. "Oh, good, you aren't dead. Vinny texted me and said things were getting eventful when the guys came inside the house. I wanted to make sure you didn't murder anyone."
I grip the phone tight enough to make my knuckles turn white. "I'm pissed you called them. You had no right to interfere, Kristy. You brought three professional hockey players into my backyard and left them there."
"I had every right." A sigh crackles through the speaker. "I'm your friend. You locked yourself in a shed with no supplies and a fever that was cooking your brain to the point you thought I was Emmett! I'm not apologizing for keeping you out of a body bag."
I pace across the scuffed kitchen floor. "They're too young. They're famous. They've got massive careers and a public image to worry about. I'm going to ruin their lives if I let them stay."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Kristy's voice rises. "Pull your head out of your ass, Vayda, and look at the truth. You can't live without them."
"I survived just fine for years." The words sound weak even to my own ears.
Kristy lets out a frustrated huff. "You call that surviving?
You look like a walking skeleton half the time.
You hide in massive clothes. You pass out from the pain.
If you want to keep living for Brendan, you can't keep letting your body succumb to bond rejection sickness.
It's a fatal condition. You were running out of time, and we both knew it. "
I stop pacing and lean my hip against the counter, staring at the faded wallpaper as the truth settles in. The doctors told me the same thing months ago; my organs were showing the strain of the constant hormonal imbalance.
"You have Alphas out there who can help you." Kristy's tone softens. "They stayed when things got messy. They stepped up. You won the Omega lottery twice in one lifetime. Two sets of scent-matched Alphas. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"
I stare at the floorboards, admitting the core of my panic aloud. "It feels like a betrayal."
Kristy's voice comes through soft and steady. "Brendan, Emmett, and Hale wouldn't want you to torture yourself. They loved you. They would want you to live."
I close my eyes, fighting the sudden burn of tears.
A sigh crackles through the speaker. "I have to get to work. Just think about it, Vayda. Open your eyes and stop punishing yourself for surviving. I'll call you tomorrow."