Chapter 19 #2
“I got shoved overboard when that motor kicked and jerked the boat.” He’s treading water easily, like the freezing temperature doesn’t bother him.
“Thought I saw a big chunk of the motor housing break off and sink. Was trying to see if I could spot it below the surface before it drifted too far. We need that part.”
He’s turning to properly face me now, both of us treading water, and I’m starting to register just how devastatingly cold it is. My teeth are already chattering violently. I can’t feel my fingers or toes. My whole body is shaking.
Jasper’s expression changes completely.
His face goes from concerned to shocked in a heartbeat. His mouth drops open, those blue eyes widening, staring at me like he’s seeing a ghost.
“What?” I ask, new fear spiking through me. “Please don’t tell me there’s a fucking shark in here with us.”
“Anita?” The word is a question. Confused. Disbelieving. Like he can’t quite process what he’s seeing.
And that’s when I notice it.
My wig, floating past us on the current about three feet away. My hand flies to my head instinctively, feeling that the pins must have been pulled out, and now my long, wet hair is plastered to my skull. My natural hair. Not the wig.
Then I move my hand to my face, fingers finding smooth skin where the fake beard should be.
It’s gone. The adhesive must have given out in the freezing water, the glue dissolving, the carefully applied pieces washing away.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, the words barely audible over the sounds of water and wind.
“We need to get out of this water,” Jasper exclaims, and his voice is strange now. Flat. Emotionless. Like he has shut down completely. “Before we both freeze to death.”
We start swimming back to the boat without another word, and the silence is somehow worse than anything he could say. Worse than yelling or accusations or anger.
The swim back feels eternal even though the boat is close. My arms are like lead. My legs barely want to kick. The cold has seeped so deep into my bones that I’m not sure I’ll ever be warm again.
Jasper reaches the boat first and hauls himself up with upper-body strength that would be impressive if I weren’t currently dying of hypothermia and exposure. He reaches down, offering his hand.
I take it, and he pulls me up onto the deck. His grip is firm but impersonal now. Like I’m a stranger he’s helping, not someone he kissed against her apartment door just days ago.
I scramble onto the bench, collapsing onto the wet metal, my whole body shaking so violently I can barely sit upright.
Jasper deliberately sits on one of the other benches opposite mine. Not close. Not offering comfort. Leaving an empty bench between us like a chasm.
He grabs my discarded Wilde Charters jacket from where I dropped it and tosses it at me without ceremony. “Put it on.”
I do, my hands shaking so badly I can barely grip the fabric. He puts his own jacket back on, then grabs several blankets from one of the containers on the boat and rapidly wraps two around me, and the rest around himself. Then we sit there on opposite benches, shivering.
He’s staring at me, taking in my face without the disguise for the first time. Seeing me as I actually am.
I must look like a disaster. Wet hair plastered to my head. Face red from the cold. Lips probably blue. Eyes undoubtedly red-rimmed from tears mixing with seawater.
“Jasper,” I start, my voice breaking on his name. The word comes out in Anita’s voice, not Ash’s, and that just makes everything more real. “There’s so much I need to explain. So much I need to tell you.”
“You fucking think so?”
The words are sharp. Cutting. Each one a knife.
And just like that, every regret I’ve ever felt in my entire life doesn’t come close to this very moment. Every mistake, every wrong choice, every ounce of shame pales in comparison.
This is the biggest mistake of my life, and now I have to face it. Have to own it. No more lies.
“Can you maybe not tell the other guys right away?” I ask, even though I know I don’t deserve that consideration. Even though I have no right to ask for anything. “Let me do it? Please? Let me be the one to tell them when I have a moment to let this sink in.”
His eyes are cold now. Distant in a way they’ve never been before, not even when we first met. “What’s going on, Anita? You’ve been faking being Ash this whole fucking time? Why? What possible reason could you have?”
I blink hard, trying to hold back tears, knowing I did this to myself.
“I run a radio show,” I say, the words tumbling out fast and desperate.
“It’s anonymous. For Omegas. It’s called The Heat Line.
I give advice, discuss issues that affect us, create a space for conversations we’re not supposed to have.
Topics that are considered too controversial or too political or too angry. ”
He’s listening, his face completely unreadable now.
“I got an email a few weeks ago. Anonymous tip from someone who wouldn’t give their name.
They said that Wilde Charters was pushing out Omegas.
Firing them unfairly or creating hostile work environments to make them quit on their own.
Making it impossible for them to stay.” I’m talking faster now, my words running together.
“And I decided to investigate. Came here undercover as Ash to see if it was true. To gather evidence. To expose it if discrimination was happening.” I’m crying now, tears mixing with the seawater still dripping from my hair.
“I wanted to protect people. That’s what I do.
That’s what my show is for. To stand up for Omegas who can’t stand up for themselves. ”
I take a shaking breath. “But then I met you. All of you. And you weren’t what I expected.
You weren’t cold or cruel or dismissive.
You were kind and respectful and treated me better than most people in my life have.
You made me laugh. Made me feel safe. Made me feel wanted.
” My voice breaks completely. “And then today, seeing Reed, realizing who the real enemy is, what real hatred looks like… I knew I’d wasted my time investigating the wrong people.
I was going to come clean and tell you everything, but then the boat broke down and… ”
“You could have just been upfront,” Jasper says, and his voice is tight. “Could have knocked on our door and asked us about the Omegas who left. We would have told you the truth.”
“What’s that?” I whisper.
“The three Omegas we let go.” His jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jumping.
“They were stealing from us. Working together. They came in for summer seasons, knew each other, coordinated the whole thing. Skimmed money from cash transactions, pocketed tips that were supposed to go to the crew, and falsified expense reports.”
I stare at him, my whole world tilting.
“We caught them,” he continues, each word precise and controlled. “Had proof. Receipts that didn’t match deposits. Security footage of one of them taking cash from the register after hours. A paper trail a mile long. We confronted them, and you know what they did?”
I shake my head mutely.
“They immediately claimed we were firing them for being Omegas. Tried to threaten us with discrimination lawsuits and said they’d go to the media, ruin our reputation, destroy our business if we reported the theft to the police.”
His arms stiffen by his sides. “We had every right to press charges. Could have sent them to jail, but we didn’t want to ruin their lives over it. So we just let them go and told them to leave Mistberry Cove and never come back. We’d keep quiet about the theft if they kept quiet about being fired.”
“The anonymous email didn’t mention any of that,” I whisper.
“Of course not. Because that version doesn’t fit the victim narrative.” His voice is bitter.
“It’s easier to claim discrimination than to admit you got caught stealing, and apparently they’ve been spreading rumors ever since, poisoning the well, making us look like villains.”
I feel sick and nauseated.
“I stand by what I do on my station,” I say quietly, trying to hold on to some shred of dignity. “Giving Omegas a voice. But I could have approached this field research differently. Should have. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Jasper,” I start again, reaching toward him even though I know he won’t take my hand. “Look, I never meant for any of this to—”
“You need to tell the others,” he interrupts, his voice hard. Final. “Come clean with all of them. That’s your first priority. Everyone deserves to know the truth about who you really are.”
He’s not moving closer, not offering any comfort, but keeping that distance between us, and it’s gutting me more effectively than any knife could.
“It’s only fair,” he adds.
I square my shoulders, trying to find some dignity in this complete disaster. “You’re right. I have nothing else to hide, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Out of all of your lives.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that feels like a door slamming shut, and my heart shatters completely. Just breaks into pieces inside my chest.
Because I knew this was coming, knew that when the truth came out, I’d lose them, and I should have done something about it earlier.
But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less or make it easier to breathe. I sit here on this broken-down boat in the middle of the cold Atlantic, soaking wet and freezing and falling apart, watching Jasper use my phone to make a call that will bring my entire world crashing down around me.
And I curse myself.
For lying from the very beginning. For being a coward who hid behind a disguise instead of being honest. For waiting too long to tell the truth. For letting it get this far. For falling in love with four men I was never supposed to want, never supposed to have.
For believing, even for a moment, that I could have this. The cold seeps deeper into my bones with every passing second, and I don’t know if I’m shivering from the temperature or from the fear of what comes next. Probably both.
The boat rocks gently on the waves, and I close my eyes against the tears that won’t stop coming.
This is what I deserve from the consequences of my choices.
This is the price I pay for lying to the people who are my scent matches.
And I have no one to blame but myself.