Chapter 38
Mable
“Promise me you’ll tell Spencer or his team whenever you leave the penthouse?” Devin asked for probably the twentieth time as he kissed me goodbye.
They had to leave.
Again.
We’d enjoyed one week of bliss, living together in our pack pile of limbs and pillows, and now they had to leave for another stupid game.
I hated away games. They were officially my least favorite things on the planet.
We were now entering the official season, where all the games mattered and carried serious consequences.
Yeah, it was safe to say I wasn’t happy about it, but I was doing my best to hide it from my alphas. The last thing they needed was a guilt trip before they left.
At least I was staying in the penthouse now, instead of the dorms. I fully intended to crawl into their beds when I missed their scents and wrap myself up in all things them.
Yet again, my omega instincts were a bitch, but I was chalking that up to the pregnancy. Damn hormones.
“Text us, constantly,” Jasper insisted, his face oddly serious, considering he usually behaved like he never had a serious thought in his head.
“You know I will,” I assured him, but couldn’t resist rolling my eyes.
“Brat.” He laughed, sticking his tongue out at me.
I scoffed, eyeing him hard. “Oh, you’re one to talk.”
We devolved into a fit of giggles, but then Saint walked over, thumbing my cheek as he smiled.
“We should really get you a pet so you’re not alone when we have games,” Saint said, grinning down at me.
“Ooo, a puppy!” Jasper exclaimed, practically bouncing up and down.
Percy snorted. “No, you’ll never remember to walk it. Plus, you’ll have Mable walking it while we’re away, like she won’t have her hands full with the baby.”
Jasper’s face fell. “Oh, yeah. Okay maybe something small, a kitten or a bunny?”
“A rabbit?” Devin raised a brow as he sauntered out from the back, heading past everyone to the door. “You are not putting a cage in here. And a cat’s going to scratch the baby.”
He had a point, sort of. Still, I shook my head, leaning up to kiss Saint and Jasper before shooing them towards the door. I couldn’t drag out this goodbye any longer than we had. It was just making it harder.
“I’m fine. I don’t need a pet.” I need you all to hurry home. “Go play your game, and then come home and cuddle me again. That’s what I need.”
Before I could stop it, I found myself in a group hug. All my alphas pressed in around me, and I was overwhelmed by the fantastic scents swirling around me…and the feeling of being so very loved.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Devin whispered.
“Sooner, if I can get Saint to ignore the fangirls again.” Jasper giggled at his own joke.
“Don’t listen to him. I haven’t looked at any of them. Ever.”
Smiling in the center of the huddle, I nodded. “I know. Now, go on. You’re all crushing me.”
The alphas pulled back, and reluctantly, they made their way to the door. We said a few more rounds of goodbye and call me, and then it was quiet. I was alone in the penthouse. Rubbing my hand across my stomach, I looked down at the little piece of Pack Garnett that would stay with me.
“Come on, bump. Let’s get a snack.”
***
My whole body was on fire, and I thought my head would explode.
It started much the same way as the last time the guys left for a game—I got a headache, which I chalked up to stress.
Thankfully, the pain was mostly in my head, so I wasn't concerned about the baby.
If I had even the slightest hint of cramping, I would have gotten myself to the nearest medical facility right away.
At first, I decided the only thing I could do was distract myself, so I tried studying, and when that was a bust, I’d switched to reading something a bit more fun. Only, when my eyesight began to blur and the words started dancing on the page, I thought a TV show might be easier to cope with.
I was wrong.
After several hours of trying to distract myself, I gave up.
Crawling into my nest, I grabbed several throw pillows and cuddled them to my chest, feeling utterly sorry for myself.
I’d had headaches before, but this was different.
There was a deep, crushing sense of dread, and I had no idea where it was coming from.
It was like the sensation that everything was wrong which I’d experienced the last time the guys left. Only, this time, it was so much worse.
Am I losing my mind? This can’t be normal, right?
I’d never experienced an anxiety attack like that before.
It wasn't like I was bogged down by immediate panic and a rushing heart. It felt like something was off, itchy, and too tight under my skin. I wanted the boys back. I didn’t know why I thought that would be the cure-all, but it seemed as good a guess as any.
Ugh, I hate this. Am I hungry? Should I try to force myself to sleep? I could have some of that chamomile tea…
I had no idea how much time had passed, but I was still feeling awful.
I didn't want to disturb the guys because I knew they would likely have their phones in their lockers.
Still something wasn't right, though. I knew I needed to talk to someone, so I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contact list until I found the number for the medical center that I had gone to recently with the guys’ insurance.
“Hello, Kirkman Medical Center, how can I help you?” The cheery voice of the receptionist rang out, bright and perky, despite the late hour.
Apparently, very expensive medical centers stay open very late at night. Good for me.
“Hi… Uh, I started at your clinic recently. I'm pregnant, and something’s going on.” My voice was shaking, and that nervous pounding in my chest had started up, impossible to ignore.
“Oh, okay, hun. Can I have your date of birth to look you up in the system?” I told her, and in moments, she got back to me with another question. “Perfect, okay. How far along are you?”
“Just hit thirty-five weeks. I…” Fear was starting to get to me, and it was impossible to keep it from my voice. “I’m a bit nervous right now. Can I talk to someone about what’s going on?”
“Of course, hun. I’m going to put you on hold for a few seconds, and a doctor is going to pick up and talk to you to see what you need. Is that okay?”
I made a sound of agreement, and the phone clicked, and moments later, a doctor answered.
The female doctor was friendly and kind, introducing herself as Dr. Alvarez. She ran through some questions with me, asking about my symptoms, and when I mentioned that my pack wasn't around, she stopped.
“Are none of your pack with you? Where are they?”
“They're gone for three days on a work trip,” I explained, that dread sharpening. “It wasn't really something they could miss, so I insisted I'd be fine, as I have lots to do, but then I got sick.”
“Well, I think we have the answer to why you're feeling so unwell. My records show that Pack Garnett is your pack. The hockey players, right? I assume they've gone to play a game?” Again, I hummed in agreement. “I'm pretty sure what you've got is a nasty case of separation sickness.”
I frowned at the wall of my nest. Separation sickness was something omegas got when they were pregnant and far away from their alphas, but it was rare. At least, that was my understanding from all the pregnancy books I'd read when I got pregnant with my little bean.
“Why would I suddenly get it now at thirty-five weeks along? The pack wasn’t around for the first part of my pregnancy.
” It didn't make sense to me. I desperately wanted to understand, because if that was what was happening with me, I needed to know. Deep down, I was praying that it was something different because separation sickness would mean I would need to call the guys to get at least one of them back home. Calling them away like that would make me feel terrible. This was their job. I couldn’t just yank them home for me.
“Separation sickness isn't cut and dry. If you've been around your alphas a lot for the last few weeks, and they suddenly leave, it can impact your hormones, especially when you're pregnant.
Think of it like withdrawal. If you've had a lot of a particular medication, and then you go cold turkey, it's going to make your body go into chaos. Alpha pheromones are strong things, and they are particularly potent to pregnant omegas.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Have you got a thermometer? Can you take your temperature?”
“I can.” As I spoke, I clambered out of the nest and made my way toward the adjoining bathroom, where the medicine cabinet held a thermometer. “Okay, taking it now.”
After a moment, the doctor asked, “Do you have a fever?”
I shook my head. “I don't.”
“Okay, good. How soon can your alphas come back?” she asked, her voice gentle and concerned.
“The game should be done in the next few hours, and they’ll be home tomorrow. Is there medicine or something that I can take to make this a bit easier?”
Dr. Alvarez hummed in disagreement. “Not really. The best thing would be to get you near your pack. I'm assuming you can't call them right now because they're in a game?”
“I can try…” I trailed off, knowing it was useless.
“Well, I have an emergency contact number here for one Jensen Noble. He’s listed as the team doctor, so with your permission, I will give him a call and let him know that they need to return home.
Once I've been in touch with him, I can call you back and let you know if you need to come in to see us, or if they will be back soon enough.
If they're going to be longer than another ten hours, I would prefer you come into the clinic overnight, so we can keep an eye on you.”
“I would rather not come in,” I admitted. Even though I felt like utter trash, the idea of leaving my home felt wrong.
“I totally understand trying to pry a sick omega from their nest is never fun. We also have a few on-call doctors, so someone could give a house visit if need be. I just don’t like the idea of you being on your own.
Do you have any family or friends nearby?
Someone who can keep an eye on you so that, if your condition deteriorates, you can come in immediately. ”
I bit my lip, thinking for a second before something occurred to me.
“Oh, there may actually be someone!” Usually, I wouldn't resort to messaging them, but if it meant that I got to stay in my nest, then I would take it.
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I texted the security team, asking for one of them to come up.
“That's perfect. Who is it?”
“We have a security team. They usually stay outside the apartment, but one of them can come in and keep an eye on me. I just—ugh. Sorry, my head is pounding.”
“Don't apologize. Separation sickness is no joke.”
The door to my room opened, and Spencer walked in, a deep frown on his face, looking especially concerned.
He was probably perturbed by the fact that I had texted him, asking him to come in, because I never asked him for help.
Taking one look at me, his face somehow got even stonier, and he strode toward the nest.
“Mable, what’s wrong?”
“Is that him?” the doctor asked.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, my head swirling and the room going a little wonky.
“Give him the phone, please. I’ll explain what’s going on and the plan.”
I held up the phone, and Spencer took it for a few moments. He and Dr. Alvarez spoke, him nodding occasionally and making sounds of agreement.
“Thank you so much. I will be back in touch shortly,” he said curtly before hanging up the phone and turning to me.
“Hi,” I greeted weakly, trying to lighten the mood by waving.
Spencer glared. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick?”
My brows pinched together as I threw up my hands. “I thought it was just a headache!”
Spencer snorted. “Well, the doctor confirmed that it definitely is not a headache. So I'm going to be your babysitter now. First things first, I'm going to get you a sports drink to make sure you're hydrated, as per the doctor's order, and then we're gonna rustle up some food for you.”
“You don't need to do all that. I only called you so she would let me stay here. I didn't want to go into the emergency room.”
Spencer raised a brow at me, and I knew fighting was futile. “I mean this with all the respect I have for you and your pack, but shut up and let me go get you a drink, stubborn omega.”
I huffed, wanting to cry but too tired to. “Fine, but can you at least make sure it's one of those strawberry ones? Because the grape ones that Jasper drinks taste like ass.”
I could hear his chuckle as he left the room.
Separation sickness. Great.