Chapter 29 #3
"When I woke up, I sort of assumed you'd all be out doing ranch-y type things," I said, cautiously pushing back from the table, picking up my half-cleared plate, and walking toward the sink. My feet were still throbbing, but it was a dull sensation now.
I didn’t know what to do with the leftovers; there wasn’t a disposal.
I couldn’t see a trash can either. I set the plate next to the basin, and turned around, pressing my back into the counter to anchor myself as I faced them all, this time with space between us so their Alpha natures wouldn’t dick with my thinking too much.
But, even here, they smelled intoxicating.
That had to be why I agreed to stay…
Why I hinged me leaving on some empty nod from Eros…
My brain was addled, unable to think rationally, because of the overwhelming effects they had on me.
"Usually would be," Wyatt confirmed, his eyes tracking my every movement with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "After last night, we thought it might be more important to be here when you woke up. Besides, we’re all run a bit ragged from the mountain lion incident. We took care of the animals after dawn, did a few things that couldn’t be put off. Everything else can keep."
“You don’t have to ignore the ranch on my account,” I said sullenly. “I don’t need babysitters.”
“No, that you do not,” Wyatt slowly nodded, “but you sure as hell need bodyguards.”
I snorted. “Had plenty of those in Seattle. Bouncers slash security. They made sure Alphas like you didn’t get too handsy. I could handle my own most of the time though.”
“I thought you were a ballet dancer. A principal with a company called The Imperial?” This from Wade, who seemed genuinely confused.
I gritted my teeth, realizing I'd stepped right into a minefield I had little desire to navigate yet, which was why I’d redacted the earlier ‘pretending to be a Beta’ story.
Eros only gave them the pretty details about me, apparently, not the gritty, less marketable ones.
That was on brand, considering how they’d framed the Omegas as willing and able.
How would they react? Would they go from wanting me here, to realizing I was more defective than they’d ever imagined and booting me right back to Eros? If they did that, would I just end up waiting for another match? Would I go through all this trauma again?
"I was a principal ballerina," I said, crossing my arms defensively, glad I had the counter for support as my knees tried to buckle. But why? Why did the revelation I’d stripped bother me? I’d found a new life at Club Midnight.
I’d grown to love being Lucky Star on that stage.
I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel ashamed.
I gathered myself and spoke with more confidence.
"Ballet ended for me with a loose ribbon and a bad landing.
" The memory still stung, a wound that would never fully heal.
"Club Midnight paid better than barista work, not that I could get a job at a coffee shop.” I lifted my hand in the air, hand vertical, palm facing outward.
I slid it through the air like I was tracing an imaginary billboard in the sky.
“Nelly Shaw, former prodigy ballerina, turned unmated Omega no one wanted to hire. "
A heavy silence fell over the kitchen. I could practically feel them processing this new information, calculating how it fit with whatever narrative Eros had sold them.
"You were a stripper?" Boone asked, his deep voice surprised.
Feeling defensive, oscillating between wanting these Alphas and hating them, I imagined that Boone’s tone of voice was tantamount to him sloughing off the part his pack had played in my mistreatment.
"Exotic dancer," I corrected automatically, though I hated myself for caring about the distinction in front of these men. "And it's none of your business what I did to survive. Me dancing half-dressed on a stage doesn’t mean I gave away my autonomy. What? Do you think I was selling my body, so it’s not that terrible that you bought me? News flash, I never gave out extras. My private dances stayed dances.”
I scowled at him. In that moment, I didn’t even care how fucking handsome he was.
“I would never think that, Nelly. I only meant—”
Boone’s scrambling words were interrupted by Cooper’s return.
Good. I didn’t want to hear the flimsy excuses anyways.
Cooper looked back and forth from me to Boone, confused. He held a laptop in hand. "Not sure what’s going on, but the email’s sent," he announced. "Subject line: Contract dissolution options."
I eyed the computer suspiciously. "Let me see it."
He walked it over to me and turned the laptop screen in my direction without hesitation.
I scanned the message, which was surprisingly straightforward and professional—requesting information about the process for nullifying the contract given "unexpected circumstances." He didn’t expand on why their pack wanted info on breaking the contract. He hadn’t complained about me. He’d kept it sterile and succinct.
“Great,” I grumbled. “If they try to say you can’t break it for some reason, just tell them you found out I was a lowlife stripper, and you’re not satisfied.”
Cooper frowned, closing the slim laptop and tucking it under one arm. “I think I missed something.”
“Just the fact that I danced naked for a bunch of Alphas. You bought damaged goods.” I held Cooper’s gaze, daring him to flinch away. All he did was quirk an eyebrow like he didn’t understand my animosity.
“Nelly,” Boone’s voice again, “No one called you a lowlife, and you’re not damaged goods. No one here is judging you.”
“Aren’t you?” I asked, mouth trembling.
All my worries about how my grandpa would feel over my choice of job, all my self-deprecation, came flooding back. I’d gotten over it after a few months of dancing at Club Midnight… or I thought I had.
"Don't play that game with me," Boone said, his voice somehow softer than before. "We all have pasts. We all had shit fall apart. All made mistakes."
"Yeah, well, mine's a lot more recent than yours probably is. And,” I looked at him defiantly, “I never said dancing at Club Midnight was a mistake.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m just saying that we aren’t the kind of people who judge others,” he insisted, swiping one hand in a practiced motion over his forehead, down behind his ear, then around the back of his neck to gather all his hair and pull it over the opposite shoulder.
A girl could get jealous of those mile-long, lustrous locks.
I fiddled with my own hair, frowning at how dry it felt.
The shampoo they’d had was some strange brand with a horse on its label, and by the name, I was pretty sure it was meant for actual horses, not humans.
Silence fell, an ocean flooding through the kitchen. We were drowning and none of us could fight for air, let alone words.
It stretched, as the ocean tends to do, from horizon to horizon. Endless.
Somehow this was more uncomfortable than spitting bitter words and fighting.
I pushed my tangled hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ears. No one was moving. No one was speaking. A few times, I wondered if anyone other than me was breathing.
“Are we all just going to wait around here for Eros to email back with a 'sorry, no refunds' message?" I eventually asked.
My Alphas seemed to consider this.
That ocean.
Salty.
Turning stormy.
Churned.
But the clouds parted.
“You could help me pick furniture for the new house,” Cooper said hopefully, “It’ll be finished soon.
They’re doing final touches. Got some clawfoot tubs that haven’t arrived yet, but it really should be done any week now.
You’re going to love it. So much space. You can decorate. Any color. Whatever you want.”
“Why would I pick stuff for a house I’ll never live in?” I countered, trying to look acutely bored.
Wyatt cleared his throat. "We could show you around the property properly. In daylight. So, you can see what you're dealing with."
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion flaring hot in my chest. "You mean so I can see how impossible it is to escape?”
I almost said, ‘you want me to walk right now? Did you not see my feet last night?’
But, again, I had no desire to admit I was still hurting.
"I mean," Wyatt said, his jaw tightening, "so you can understand the terrain if you decide to try again. Already told you that mountain lions aren't the only danger out there. I don’t want you to get hurt again, Nelly. You getting hurt again might kill me."
The sincerity in his voice threw me. I'd expected threats or warnings, not what sounded like genuine concern.
My eyes flicked to the window, taking in the vast landscape beyond the glass—rolling hills, distant mountains, endless sky.
Somehow, the clear blueness of that last was terrifying.
Maybe because it was the drowning ocean made real, only now it hovered above us threatening to drop at any moment. The sky is falling! The sky is falling!
“I don’t want to roam around your stupid ranch.
” I looked down at my hands, knitting them together, trying to stop myself from digging my nails into my palms, because my words were lies.
Part of me did want to go outside and see Sagebrush.
To remind myself that being here was painful, and I shouldn’t want to stay, I brutally pressed my back harder against the counter behind.
"On horseback, you could see the ranch faster. Get out in the sunshine, wind through your hair. It always makes me feel better.” Levi offered, pushing his glasses up into place.
He seemed like the type that liked to have something keeping his mind occupied.
Maybe that’s why he was so into numbers.
“I’m the worst rider of the bunch, but I’m happy to take you. ”
"No, thank you. Sounds like literal torture.” I shook my head, heart panging a little when I saw the hurt flash through Levi’s Elizabeth Taylor eyes.