Chapter 26
CLAIRE
“Iwant to be honest with you because I’m terrible at hiding things, and it’s eating me alive,” Trudy says, stopping on the sidewalk alongside me.
Mistberry Cove stretches around us, the main street quiet in late morning sun, storefronts painted in faded coastal blues, window boxes spilling geraniums onto the pavement.
A bakery two doors down is pumping out the smell of sourdough, and my stomach growls because I skipped breakfast, which was dumb, but Brody was in my kitchen, shirtless, making waffles for a video, and I had to leave before I climbed him in front of Trudy.
She turns to face me, presses her hand flat against her chest, and her eyes are fiercer than I’ve seen them.
“I came here hoping the three guys were still without an Omega, hoping they’d take me back. That’s the truth and I’m done pretending.”
My breath catches. The jealousy, that feral creature I’ve been starving and feeding in cycles for days, sinks its teeth into my ribs. “Okay,” I say, because silence would be worse.
“But, Claire, I swear to God.” Her hand pushes harder against her chest. “I had no idea you existed. The second I saw the way they were with you, the second Jakob said you were their Omega, I knew they weren’t mine.”
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets because if they’re free, they’ll shake. The morning breeze carries salt off the harbor and the faint clink of rigging from the fishing boats, and I focus on those sounds while my heartbeat settles.
“That took guts to say,” I tell her. “Thanks for being honest.”
She half laughs, her gaze dropping. “It was stupid to come at all.” She starts moving again, and I fall into step beside her, our boots scuffing the pavement.
“Kristian was especially vicious that morning. Told me bonding with me was the biggest regret of his life. Said it over his coffee, casually, as if he was commenting on the weather.”
“He said that to your face?”
“With a smile.”
“He’s a fucking idiot.”
“Oh, one hundred percent.” She pushes a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“He stormed out after, and I was sitting on the kitchen floor crying, and my iPad was on the counter playing one of Brody’s videos.
I don’t even know how it opened. Auto-play from my history, probably, because I used to watch them obsessively after I left the pack.
” She grimaces. “Torturing myself. Real healthy coping.” She half chuckles.
“Been there. Different videos, same spiral.”
“I took it as a sign. The universe pointing me somewhere safe.” Her mouth twists. “Turns out the universe was just auto-playing my algorithm. Not exactly divine intervention.”
I snort a laugh. “At least your algorithm has taste.”
She grins. I’ve been so consumed with what Trudy represents, the threat, the past, the ghost of a woman who came before me, that I’ve barely registered who she actually is when she’s not crying or apologizing.
“It’s done now,” I say. “You’re here. Use the time to figure out your next step, and don’t rush back to him, okay? Your Alpha sounds toxic.”
“Toxic is generous.” She’s quiet for a few steps. “I’ve been thinking about opening my own business. Starting fresh, not needing to rely on anyone.”
“Yeah? Doing what?”
“Floral arrangements.” She says it tentatively, testing the words, and I notice the way her gaze snags on the florist we’re passing, the buckets of dahlias and roses crowding the doorway.
Not a casual glance. A hungry one. “I used to do them before I met Kristian. Weddings, events, small commissions, and I was good at it.”
“Trudy.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “That’s exactly what you need. Build a business that’s yours and nobody else’s.”
She gives me a huge smile that’s genuine, and the warmth of it catches me off guard because I’ve been bracing for rivalry and getting friendship instead.
I didn’t expect to find myself strolling down a sidewalk with my Alphas’ ex-Omega, sharing a conversation that feels more natural than my relationship with Louis.
Last night, all three of my Alphas stayed at my place, including Damien, and Trudy was alone in their empty house.
The guilt sits in my stomach right next to the possessiveness. Neither one wins. They just coexist, uncomfortably, the way feelings do when you’re a person who wants to be good but also wants what’s hers.
“Hey.” Trudy grabs my arm, pulling me from the thought. “Isn’t that her? Your ex’s Omega? From the rugby match?”
I follow her gaze up the sidewalk to the brunette Omega staring at a dress through the store window. The same one who’d been his maid of honor at the wedding and at the rugby game. Now, she’s dressed in a pale blue sundress, all alone. No Louis in sight.
My stomach drops, and I immediately scan the street. Doorways. Parked cars. The gap between buildings where someone might be waiting. Nothing.
“Come on.” Trudy’s already angling toward the crosswalk. “Let’s talk to her.”
“What? No.”
“She’s right there.”
“That’s the woman who was in the car outside my house when Louis broke up with me, Trudy. The woman Louis left me for, so I can’t just stroll up and—”
“You can and you should.” Trudy faces me fully with a determined expression.
“We Omegas need to stick together, especially the ones attached to shitty Alphas.” She softens.
“I spent years being misguided by Kristian. Having another Omega reach out to me would have changed everything, and maybe she needs that and doesn’t even know what kind of man she’s with. ”
The words swirl in my mind in the exact place my anxiety lives.
“Okay,” I finally say because I can’t think of a logical reason why I shouldn’t.
We approach the brunette staring at the dress store.
Up close, she’s striking. Freckled, dark green–eyed, and put together.
I shouldn’t compare myself to her, but I do anyway, from the cheekbones to the hair to the confident posture.
She’s the upgrade and what Louis went looking for while I was pressing his shirts and working on my recipe book.
“Gorgeous dress,” Trudy says, sliding up beside her.
The brunette glances up and grins. “Oh, hey. You were at the rugby game, right? Louis pointed you out, and he spoke to you both.”
My throat seizes. I open my mouth but nothing comes.
Trudy’s hip bumps mine, and the contact jolts me free.
“Yep,” I manage. “That’s us.”
“I’m Trudy. This is Claire.”
“Maggie.” She extends her hand. I shake it, and her grip is firm, her smile real. Inside my skull, the anxious narration is running at full volume: This is the woman he chose, the woman who replaced you.
“You live here?” Trudy asks her.
“I do, but I’m from Boston originally.” She gestures at the harbor, the storefronts. “And it’s just gorgeous here, so it was easy for Louis to convince me to move here.”
“Where is he now?”
“Catching up with a friend. I’ve got the day off.”
“Perfect.” Trudy links her arm through Maggie’s as if they’ve known each other for years. “Coffee. Claire would know the best café for us to go to, as I’m not a local.”
Maggie brightens. “I’d love that. So nice to meet other Omegas where it’s not all competitive.”
“Oh, we’re aggressively noncompetitive,” Trudy says. “Militant, even.”
She catches my eye, then winks. And I choke on a laugh because the woman who showed up drenched on a doorstep days ago is currently social-butterflying my ex’s Omega down a sidewalk as if she’s hosting a brunch.
“Yep, this way. I know the best place for us,” I finally say, putting on a smile, while my insides are torn in so many directions.
We head toward The Flour House three abreast. Maggie is between us, chatting about the town, a seafood restaurant Louis took her to. I catch myself smiling and then being angry, and the whole cycle is exhausting.
The café is buzzing. Nina spots me through the crowd from behind the counter and waves with a coffee jug, but she’s busy, the line long, so I simply wave back and blow her a kiss.
We find a table in the back, and the second Maggie sits opposite me, Trudy pushes her chair under the table. “Let me grab the drinks,” she insists. “What are we having?”
I’m on my feet before she finishes the sentence. “Oh, no, I can do it. I know what’s good here.”
Trudy puts a hand lightly on my shoulder and presses me back toward the chair with alarming sweetness. “Claire, you live here, so sit and relax.”
“I’m very relaxed, but it might be easier if I order.”
Her smile widens. “What are you having, or shall I surprise you?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m happy to come with you. Nina sometimes keeps the good cookies behind the counter.”
“How mysterious.” Trudy rests one hand on the back of my chair, smiling as if she hasn’t just blocked my escape route with manners. “But I think I can handle a café order.”
Maggie glances between us, amused. “Is there a cookie shortage I should be worried about?”
“Not yet,” I say, still staring at Trudy. “But some people are reckless with responsibility.”
Trudy’s mouth twitches. “Chai latte for you, then. Maggie?”
“Oh, that sounds lovely. Same for me.”
“Perfect.” Trudy gives me one last bright, treacherous smile. “You two get comfortable. I’ll be right back.” She disappears toward the counter before I can invent a single respectable reason to follow her, and the silence descends like a curtain.
Maggie studies me across the small table. The café noise—clinking cups, grinding beans, someone’s toddler shrieking near the door—fills the space between us.
“I’m sorry about how Louis treated you,” she says suddenly.
The directness startles me. So she knows who I am, sending my pulse into a frenzy.
“Ancient history,” I manage, because that is easier than admitting some memories still sting.
“Still. The timing was awful.” Maggie leans forward. “He told me about you and how things didn’t work out.”
“Did he tell you he left me on the morning of my live TV interview?” I ask, my voice staying calmer than I feel. “Or that he asked for my ring back while you waited outside?”
Her shoulders tense. For a second, she doesn’t blink, and her gaze drops to the table, the color draining slowly from her face. “No,” she says quietly. “He glossed over the details. Said you’d drifted apart.”
“Drifted.” The word tastes sour. “Sure.”
“I should have asked more questions.”
“You don’t owe me that. You didn’t owe me anything.” I swallow, but the bitterness still slips through. “You were just the next person in a seat he’d already decided to fill.”
She flinches, and guilt snaps through me almost instantly. The words came out too sharp, and she isn’t my enemy.
“Sorry,” I say. “That was—”
“Honest.” Maggie shakes her head, her mouth trembling before she presses it flat.
“A friend once told me a cheating man will always cheat. Louis and I got together while he was still with you, and I chose to ignore what that meant because I wanted to believe I was different.” She picks up a sugar packet and starts folding one corner over and over until the paper creases white.
“I guess it’s karma to learn that he hasn’t been honest with me. ”
I lean in a little, keeping my voice low because the table beside us is close and Mistberry Cove has no mercy when it comes to gossip. “I believe in shitty Alphas doing shitty things because nobody stops them.”
That earns the smallest break in her expression, almost a smile, but it vanishes quickly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”
“At the rugby match, he told me to wait while he went to talk to you. Said you’d probably be a bitch about it. He was lying about that too, wasn’t he?”
I nod. “Yeah. He came over to taunt me, basically.” I keep going because she’s being direct and she deserves the same. “He’s been harassing me since we broke up. He showed up at the game to say things designed to hurt me, and a couple of weeks ago, he broke into my house at two a.m.”
Maggie goes completely still.
The sugar packet slips from her fingers and lands on the table, forgotten. Her mouth parts. “Did he hurt you?”
“One of my new Alphas was sleeping over, so he handled it.”
“Oh, shit.” She breathes out slowly, one hand rising to cover her mouth before dropping again. “That explains the black eye. He told me he got into a scrap at a bar with some guy, and I believed him because…” Her eyes glisten, furious and humiliated at once. “Because I wanted to.”
“I’m not trying to make your life harder,” I say, leaning forward. “Maybe he’s different with you. Maybe he’s changed.”
Maggie stares at me then, and whatever hope she’d been clinging to seems to fold in on itself. Her hands have started shaking, so she hides them in her lap. “Men who break into their ex’s house at two a.m. haven’t changed,” she says. “They’ve just gotten better at hiding.”
Trudy arrives with a plate of cookies, sets it down, and reads the table in a second. “What’d I miss?”
“Realizing how many asshole Alphas exist,” I explain with a smirk.
“Girl, I could fill a stadium.” She drops into her chair.
Maggie laughs. We’re all reaching for a cookie when Nina’s assistant arrives with our drinks, and somehow, after that, we actually talk.
Not about Louis for a while, but about normal things. Life. Work. How Trudy wants to open up a flower shop. Maggie revealing how she met Louis at a dance, and me admitting that I managed to score three Alphas and still spend half my time terrified they’ll leave me too.
By the time we exchange numbers, my chest feels lighter, even if another part of me is already second-guessing every word I said. Maybe I shouldn’t have told Maggie so much. Maybe dragging Louis’s worst behavior into the open will only make everything messier.
But if I were her, I’d want to know.
And maybe there’s a small, petty part of me that can’t help smiling at the thought that Louis’s day is about to get a lot worse.
I only hope that when the fallout comes, I’m far enough away not to get buried under it.