70. Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Riley
The sky gets prettier at night, in places like this, where there’s no pollution hiding the stars.
I lean back against the tree and gaze up through the leaves.
It’s peaceful, and it’s calm, and I have a beer in my hand.
Simple pleasures are seriously underrated.
Life doesn’t get much better than this.
Sighing, I take a sip of the beer.
I could almost pretend I’m out here completely alone.
That I can’t even see the campfire or the reporter who turned out to be a fucking Omega.
My heart races every time I look at her. It doesn’t matter that she’s not close.
I picked up the scent of her perfume, and it turned my dick to stone.
I know how good it would feel to submit to the desire her scent puts in me.
I would risk drowning in her juices if it meant I got to taste her.
Even thinking about it makes my mouth water so much I need to fucking swallow.
So, I drink my beer, and I try to forget everything I know about Omegas.
Sometime after I’ve finished the beer from the cooler, and I’m trying to make myself get up to search through the jet for whatever else we’ve got in there, I realize someone’s walking toward me.
“Oh, thank God!” I blurt out. “I need a refill.”
I hold my bottle out as Xane comes into the small circle of light from that shitty lantern Kian brought over for me earlier. He sits down across from me and checks the contents of the cooler.
“You’re all out.”
“I mean from the tin-can death-trap. There’s a bunch of spirits in there. I know there is, because I stocked that minifridge myself.” I put the empty down and snap my fingers. “Time’s a-wastin’.”
“Yeah. It has been for a while now, hasn’t it?”
Oh, great. He’s here to get serious.
I wonder what that’s about.
I roll my eyes. “Let the past stay where it belongs, Xane. I’m not in the mood to talk.”
“Well, I am, and if you’re not in the mood to talk, you can just listen.”
Get Ready! Here comes another lecture, courtesy of the guy who thinks he knows everything.
“You said you didn’t want to talk about it, and I told you that was fine. You said you didn’t want to go to a therapist, and I stopped asking you to consider it as an option. You said you were fine, but that’s not the truth, and I need you to tell me what to do, because I don’t know anymore.”
“I just want to forget it ever happened. That’s what I want. It’s all I want.”
And if he would stop bringing it up, maybe that would have happened by now.
He’s quiet for a second, and I almost think he’s ready to get up and walk away.
“Don’t you think if that was gonna work, it would have worked by now?”
I frown at him. “What?”
“It’s been five years, Riley. And in that time, all you’ve done is bury your head in the sand. It hasn’t helped one little bit, and I can’t stand to see you like this anymore.”
“Like what? There’s nothing wrong with me. My head is very clearly well above the sand.”
I pat the sand by my side, and he sighs softly.
“Maybe this isn’t the best time.”
“You’re telling me. I’m gonna complain to management about the bar running dry so fucking early into the night.”
Xane stands back up. “The bar is closed for the rest of the vacation. I emptied out your stash on the jet, and we’ve got a four-day walk starting tomorrow until we get to Golden Sands, so whether you like it or not, we’re gonna have to deal with this.”
“You did what to my miniatures?” I ask, barely registering the rest of it.
“Have a good nap, Riley. I’ll get you food when you decide you need it.”
“Don’t bother bringing me food unless it’s soaked in rum.”
He doesn’t say anything else, he just leaves.
Finally, I’m alone again, with the stars and the peaceful vibes.
There’s a pit in my stomach now, though, formed by the knowledge that the bar has run dry.
All the shit I’ve been pushing down, drowning in alcohol, it’s going to surface.
“Fuck,” I mutter, picking up the empty bottle.
I tilt my head back and open my mouth, tipping the bottle and shaking it.
Not a single fucking drop left.
Probably should have stopped anyone else from drinking the beer.
Tomorrow’s gonna be a fucking nightmare.