8. Grace
8
GRACE
T he chocolates melt against my tongue, sweet and a little bitter, just like the mood I’m in. I pop another one in my mouth, chewing slower this time, letting it work its magic. God knows I need it.
Driving all the way to the gas station for these was definitely worth it. Anything to calm my nerves.
I glance around the hospital lobby. It’s too clean, too quiet. The kind of quiet that only makes my thoughts louder.
I sigh, leaning back into the chair, tapping my foot against the tile floor. I feel like crap for snapping at Jake earlier.
He didn’t deserve it. He’s always been… well, Jake. The guy who puts up with my moods and doesn’t ask for much in return. But I couldn’t deal with him after what happened yesterday.
Rowan. Damn it, Rowan.
I shake my head, stuffing another chocolate into my mouth, hoping it’ll block out the memory. It doesn’t, of course. I glance at the receptionist, who’s busy tapping away on her computer, not paying me any attention.
Good. The last thing I need is someone asking me what’s wrong.
What’s wrong? Everything.
I shouldn’t even be here, but I need to get this suppressant mess sorted. If they had worked like they were supposed to, I wouldn’t have been caught off guard like that.
I wouldn’t have ended up… No. Not thinking about that.
“Grace Halloway?” A nurse pokes her head out of the door, her smile too bright for this miserable day.
I shove the chocolate wrapper into my bag, standing up. “That’s me.”
“Dr. Avery’s ready for you.”
I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans before walking in. My stomach twists as I step into the exam room, the familiar scent of antiseptic and something floral hitting me.
Dr. Avery’s sitting at the computer, her hair pulled into a neat bun, her glasses perched low on her nose. She looks up and smiles warmly.
“Grace. Come in, have a seat.”
I drop into the chair across from her, folding my hands in my lap. “Thanks.”
She studies me for a second, then leans back. “So, what’s going on? You sounded…stressed when you called.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I tell her, scratching at the edge of my sleeve. “The suppressants didn’t work.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Didn’t work?”
I nod. “Yeah. I went into heat anyway. Last night.”
Dr. Avery frowns, leaning forward. “That’s… unusual. Suppressants almost never fail unless there’s a specific trigger. Have you had any major changes to your life recently? Diet, stress, anything out of the ordinary?”
“No,” I lie quickly. Then, softer, “I mean… nothing big.”
She tilts her head, unconvinced. “What were you doing when it started?”
I hesitate. “I was at the shop.”
“And what time was that?”
“Uh…” I think back. “Around midday. That’s when I first noticed the symptoms.”
Dr. Avery taps her pen against the desk, thoughtful. “Interesting. That’s not typical. I’ll need to run some bloodwork, see what’s going on. Does that sound okay?”
“Yeah, whatever you need to do. I just… I can’t go through that again.”
She nods, standing up and grabbing a pair of gloves. “Let’s start with a blood draw. We’ll go from there.”
I hold out my arm as she preps the needle. “You’re sure this isn’t something serious, right?” I press.
Dr. Avery gives me a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out, Grace. One step at a time.”
The prick of the needle is quick, and before I know it, she’s handing me a cotton ball and a Band-Aid. “Go ahead and wait here while we run these tests. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Okay.” I slump back into the chair in the corner of the room. I watch her leave with my blood in the little tube. “Thanks,” I call after her.
I start tapping my foot again. My leg bounces so much it makes the chair creak, but I don’t stop. It’s either that or losing my mind.
The longer I wait, the more my mind spirals. What the hell is wrong with me? Why didn’t the suppressants work? And why now, of all times? I clench my fists, trying not to think about Rowan. About his hands, his voice, the way he?—
“Grace Halloway?”
The nurse’s voice cuts through my thoughts again, and I nearly jump out of the chair.
“Can you come with me to Dr. Avery’s office? She has your results.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice thin.
I walk into Dr. Avery’s office, my stomach in knots. She’s sitting behind her desk, her expression serious this time. No warm smile. Just business.
“Well?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Dr. Avery gestures for me to sit.
“The bloodwork shows an increase in…” She names something scientific, but it goes right over my head.
Seeing my confusion, she explains, “It’s a hormone that spikes when an Omega is entering heat. Yours is unusually high.”
“Okay, so how do I stop that from happening again?” My voice is tight, desperate.
Dr. Avery leans forward, resting her hands on the desk. I notice the ring on her finger—a delicate band with a small diamond. Married. To an Alpha, no doubt. Everyone in this town is.
“For now,” she says carefully, “I suggest continuing with the suppressants and seeing if things stabilize. I’ll do more tests on your blood sample to rule out any other factors.”
“That’s it?” I snap. “Just keep using the suppressants again and hope for the best?”
“I understand this is frustrating. But heat is natural. It’s part of the Omega cycle. Fighting it only makes it harder to manage in the long run.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. Her words hit me hard. Natural? Manageable? I think of Rowan again—his fingers, his voice—and my skin goes clammy.
“I don’t care about natural,” I say sharply. “I can’t go into heat again.”
Dr. Avery studies me, her expression softening. “Grace, Omega to Omega… embracing it might make it easier for you. Fighting your heats creates stress, and stress only makes things worse.”
“I don’t care. Just fix it.” My voice wavers, and I hate myself for my weakness.
Dr. Avery doesn’t push. She just nods. “I’ll do everything I can. I promise.”
I stand up, grab my bag, and turn to leave. “Good. Let me know when you figure it out.”
“Grace.”
I stop but don’t look back.
“Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
I nod once, tight and quick, then walk out the door. The taste of chocolate is still on my tongue, but it doesn’t calm me this time. Nothing does.
In my car, I drop my head against the steering wheel, groaning. “Why the fuck is this my life?”
I’m tempted to just scream at the universe. Because what the hell, seriously? This can’t keep happening. I’ve done everything right.
My head rests against the wheel for a moment longer before I finally sit back and smack the dashboard with my hand. “All right, Grace, pull it together.”
I turn the key and back out of the hospital parking lot, my mind racing, but not with anything helpful.
Oh no, it’s filled to the brim with thoughts of Rowan—his hands, his voice, his stupid face. I shake my head, trying to push the images away. It doesn’t work.
Instead, my thoughts morph into the memory of his fingers inside me, and my grip on the steering wheel tightens.
“Stop it!” I snap at myself. My brain doesn’t listen. Of course it doesn’t.
It’s too busy replaying every second, every sound, every damn moment of what happened yesterday.
By the time I pull into the mechanic’s lot, I’m so frazzled I almost forget to put the car in park. The sign is faded, and the garage smells like oil and sweat.
A couple of Betas are standing around, laughing at something. They look up when I step out of the car, their conversation fading.
“Need a tune-up?” one of them asks, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. He looks harmless enough—mid-thirties, average build, with a kind face that doesn’t make me want to punch something, which is a nice change of pace.
“Yeah,” I say. “I ran out of gas yesterday. I don’t feel like it’s been running right since.”
He nods, taking the keys from me. “We’ll take care of it. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”
“Thanks.”
I hesitate for a second before turning away. Walking back to the flower shop seems like a better idea than calling for a ride. The fresh air might do me some good.
The sidewalk feels endless as I head toward the shop, carrying a bundle of wildflowers that I pick as I stroll. Their sweet scent is comforting, but it also reminds me of how chaotic everything is right now. These flowers need me to keep them alive, and I need… well, something.
As I round a corner, the sound of footsteps behind me makes my shoulders tense. At first, I think I’m imagining it. But then I hear a low, rough voice.
“Hey there, Omega.”
I turn, and two Alphas are standing way too close for comfort. They’re wearing black jackets with a patch I recognize—The Iron Fangs. Shit. They’re trouble. Everyone knows that.
“Not interested,” I snap, turning back around and walking faster.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart,” one of them says, his voice dripping with fake charm. “We’re just being friendly.”
“I said leave me alone.”
One of them laughs, a deep, menacing sound that makes my stomach twist. Before I can react, he grabs my arm and spins me around. His grip is tight, and his breath reeks of alcohol.
“Don’t be like that,” he says, leaning in too close.
“Get off me!” I shout, trying to pull away.
And then I hear it—a voice that cuts through the chaos like a knife.
“Let her go.”
I whip my head around and see Rowan standing a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his eyes burning with intent. He looks dangerous in a way that sends a weird, confusing jolt through me.
Is it relief? Maybe.
The Alphas hesitate, looking him over.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of them sneers.
“She’s my Omega,” Rowan says, his voice steady and cold. “You’ve got three seconds to walk away.”
“Don’t see any marks claiming her,” the other Alpha says, smirking.
Rowan steps closer, his expression darkening. “Do I look like someone you want to test right now?”
Before the situation can escalate, I hear the roar of a motorcycle engine. Jake pulls up, parking his bike with a screech that sends gravel flying. He steps off, his leather jacket catching the late afternoon sun.
“What’s going on here?” Jake asks, his voice calm but deadly.
The Alphas exchange a glance, clearly rethinking their life choices.
“Just having a chat,” one of them mutters, letting go of my arm.
“Walk away,” Jake says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The two Alphas back off, grumbling under their breath as they retreat. Once they’re out of sight, the tension in my body drains, leaving me shaky and exhausted.
“You all right?” Jake asks, his eyes scanning me for any sign of injury.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Rowan doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an intensity that makes my skin heat up.
“I’ll walk you to the shop,” Jake says. He doesn’t ask why I’m walking alone at this hour or where I’ve left my car this time.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, but my voice wavers.
“You’re not fine,” Rowan cuts in. “You’re an Omega walking around alone, smelling like you’re in heat. You’re a target.”
I glare at him. “I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly,” Rowan says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Jake steps between us, holding up a hand. “All right, enough. Let’s just get her back to her shop safely, yeah?”
I look between them, my frustration warring with the weird, tangled mess of emotions swirling in my chest. There’s relief there, and gratitude, and something else I don’t want to name.
“Fine,” I agree. “But only because I need to get these flowers in water before they wilt.”
Jake smirks. “Priorities, huh?”
“Shut up.”
As we walk, the silence is heavy, but not uncomfortable. Rowan stays close, his presence solid and grounding in a way I hate to admit I notice.
Jake putters along next to us on his bike, looping back up and down the road every once in a while when our pace is too slow for him to ride without wobbling.
By the time we reach the shop, I’m so emotionally drained I can barely think straight.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jake asks again as I unlock the door.
“Yeah,” I say, but I avoid meeting his eyes. “Thanks again.”
Rowan doesn’t say anything, just nods before turning and walking away.
Jake lingers for a moment. “If you need anything, you call me. Got it?”
I nod, my throat tight.
“Good,” he says, and then he’s gone too, leaving me alone with my thoughts.