Chapter 21
Adrian
As much as I’d like to, I can’t wear Leo’s clothes forever. We’re back in Hollow Point, Leo armed with a shopping list on the notes in his phone.
“Let’s get you a phone first,” he’s saying. “Then we’ll do clothes, board, lunch …”
We’re walking down the main street and it’s fucking surreal.
It’s the same—the wide single lanes with the excessively large parking spots lining the shops.
The kind of space that can only be taken up in small towns, as if they have all the space in the world, unlike the cramped, multistorey carparks in Celo.
It’s sunny, the mid-afternoon sunshine bathing the glass shopfronts in a healthy glow, the air clean and crisp with the sea breeze.
Even being on the harbour, The Bell could not escape the oppressive heat of Celo flanking it from behind, smothering the clean smell of the wind off the ocean with its overpopulation and cramped buildings.
The way the city trapped the heat in summer made a simple walk stifling.
“Addie?” Leo asks and bumps my shoulder.
“Hmm?” I look up at him.
“Does that sound good?”
“Oh, sorry.” I smile sheepishly. “I wasn’t listening. Sorry.”
He throws his arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “No need to apologise. Not ever.”
I do not miss the way he doesn’t turn that into a command. I wrap my arms around his waist, and we walk down the wide footpath like that, just a couple of mates, bonded for fate, for love.
Turns out, Leo’s plans not only involve new clothes, but a new wetsuit.
“It’s not winter yet. I can get it then,” I tell him, but he waves me off and proceeds to get a surfboard, leash, wax, even a board repair kit, mumbling that he’s sorry the board isn’t custom and he hopes it’ll do for now.
Obviously, I’ll be building my own, but this board is bloody perfect until then. He won’t let me pay for anything either. I try to argue, except he’s adorably earnest, blushing when he says, “Please, I want to provide for you. I can, I have money. I can take good care of you.”
And well, who am I to argue with an alpha so intent on looking after me? Besides, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to take care of him. We’re bonded. We’re free. We’ve got a lifetime of this.
After we put everything in the car, Leo insists on buying me lunch. The café on the beach in Hollow Point does the best fish burgers in the state—at least we’re pretty sure it does—so Leo wraps his arm around me, guiding me there.
A smile splits my face when I see a bunch of our friends from school coming out of the rustic doors. Then I remember where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and panic grips me. Before Leo can say anything—he’s feeling that—they’re upon us.
Bruiser, Kev, Amanda, and Carly—an alpha, beta, omega, and another beta. These four were solidly part of our group in high school. They see me as one, stopping with similarly astonished expressions.
I tug the sleeve of Leo’s hoodie down to cover my tattoo.
“Adrian?” It’s Bruiser, his eyes wide. “Adrian!” Without further preamble, he steps forward, unmindful of Leo, and yanks me into a big hug.
I can’t do anything but return it with a startled laugh. I’m engulfed in his meaty arms and his smell of fresh-baked goods. We used to give him shit about that, but Bruiser was unperturbed. “Who doesn’t love a bakery?” he’d ask, smug with it.
I get passed around and I’m so happy to see them, but I can’t shake the creeping shame.
“You’re bonded!” Amanda shrieks. “Finally!” She shoots Leo an approving smile, her omega smell of old books earthy and sweet. She used to say it was the world’s greatest irony that she stank of a fusty library when she hated to read. I grin at the memories flooding back in.
“Adrian,” Kev says, and I know that smirk. “You seriously went with this guy?”
Leo grabs me around the waist, and his, “Shut up,” is joking, but I don’t miss the way he’s pulling me in to soothe me. I don’t know if he knows why I’m uncomfortable—probably does—but as my alpha, he’ll be feeling his omega in light distress, and he’ll be needing to make that right.
“Leo’s dad said you bonded some older guy,” Carly says, looking between us. A beta, and the smartest amongst us, she got accepted on a full scholarship to CU—Celo University—to study Advanced Mathematics and Advanced Computer Science.
And now Leo’s scent turns rancid.
“Ah, yeah, no, bit of a miscommunication, I think. You know I couldn’t resist this bossy asshole,” I joke, hoping it comes off normal.
“You could’ve done so much better, Adrian,” Bruiser says and punches my bicep playfully. “Like me, for example. I wouldn’t have made you wait seven fucking years.” He gives Leo a shit-eating grin.
Leo scoffs and tightens his arm around me. “Like you’d know how to treat Addie as the king he is.” The thing is, he doesn’t say that as a joke at all, and I blush to my hairline. Everyone else laughs.
A lull comes over us, and I feel them peering at me more closely. I know what they see—underweight, pale, possibly the war zone behind my eyes. Once you get past the glow of my bond, the contentment in my scent, I’m not in good shape. Not like the last time they saw me.
I reach up to rub my neck, dropping my gaze, and hear Bruiser’s sharp inhale.
The hoodie’s too big for me, the sleeve dropped, and there’s my tattoo.
Bruiser’s scent turns angry and Amanda’s turns troubled. I can’t look at them now.
“What the fuck.” It’s Bruiser, alpha anger laced in his voice.
“You got a problem, Bruise?” Leo says, a threat in his tone I’ve never, ever heard him use with our friends. He holds me so tightly against him, I’m having issues breathing. But that could be the humiliation.
“Adrian,” Kev says, his voice as shocked as Bruiser’s. “You got taken?”
I can’t smell him—he’s a beta—but when I chance a look up, I don’t see judgement, just concern. I glance at the others and see the same. Bruiser, in fact, looks devastated.
He confirms it when he speaks. “They fucking took you?” He looks at Leo. “They fucking took him?”
Leo jerks his chin, his scent broadcasting remorse and so much guilt I forget my own feelings and wrap my arm around him, squeeze his hip. It’s not his fault.
Together, we wade through their questions, their shock, their anger and apologies. The demands of why didn’t I call them, get them to hide me.
And … I don’t know. It’s a strange thing, being left like that.
No alpha. No family. There’s a disgrace in it.
What kind of family has an omega in it and doesn’t make sure they’re surrounded by a network that can protect them?
I never thought much of it growing up—I assumed it’d never matter.
I had my alpha, then, in my fantasies, I’d mate Leo. I’d never be one of those omegas.
“He’s got nothing to be ashamed of,” Leo is saying firmly. “It’s done. Now he’s out. And if any fucking assholes around here have got anything to say about it, they can come to me.” There’s no mistaking the threat in his voice.
Bruiser lifts his hands. “Dude! No fucking judgement. I’m just, I’m just …” And his scent drops out. It’s not judgement, he’s telling the truth. There’s pity, but more than that, he smells of regret. “I’m just so fucking sorry, Adrian.”
I look at my friends and see, collectively, they are. I drop my gaze and rub the tattoo on the back of my hand. I’ll always wear this mark, but I can feel, really feel how much they don’t care about it the way I do. And why should I be ashamed anyway? I didn’t do anything wrong.
“It’s okay,” I say and mean it. “I should’ve called.”
“You should have,” Carly says. “Wait until everyone finds out. My God, Adrian, they’re gonna be so pissed.”
And I’m surprised when I only feel a flicker of dread at “everyone.”
We leave them with promises to meet up, to surf, to visit, and another round of hugs. I missed their smells, their faces. Faces I’ve known through the soft chubbiness of pre-primary to the spots of high school. I was so fucking stupid—any one of them would’ve hidden me.
“You okay?” Leo asks when we sit down in a booth, the ocean an unbroken stretch of blue to the horizon out the window beside us.
It’s calm now, just a light ripple tapering to the shore.
Hollow Point is a break I’d spent my whole surfing life studying, and yet it could still surprise me.
It’s a rocky point break, where the winter swells hit the pronounced headland, refracting them out and producing the powerful, hollow waves the town is known for.
The best way to enter the break is at the peak.
Fuck it up and you’ll find yourself getting smashed against the rocks—you get one shot at it.
Under the water, in the bay, there are more rocks, sharp edges, and the potential for serious injury if you wipe out.
It’s no place for beginners. The wave is indifferent to us, but it will kill you.
But get it right? It’s the longest, best tube ride in the world. I could ride that wave forever and not get bored with it. That’s my wave.
“Yeah,” I tell Leo and look back at him.
He’s studying me with concern. He smells it too.
But there’s not an ounce of regret in him, no hidden shame to have me as his mate, no discernible judgement for where I’ve been or what I’ve done.
It’s seems unfathomable—an alpha mated to an omega with my history and he’s still looking at me like he always has.
It’ll take a while, but having Leo’s conviction inside me, his certainty that I am still worth loving even after all that, well, it’s kind of hard not to feel like I’m going to be okay.
When the waitress comes over, I don’t hide the tattoo.
After Leo makes me eat my body weight in burgers, fries, two milkshakes, and an ice-cream, I think I’m going to throw up, so I doze in the car while he goes into his house to, “Pack my shit.”
His dad’s at work and I said I’d help, but Leo wanted me to stay here.
“My alpha side, umm, it doesn’t want you anywhere near my dad’s … space,” he told me. He smelled angry, and a little bit nervous. I left him to it.
Then I remember I’ve got a new phone. Sitting up, feeling a lot more awake, I open the box and get it set up.
Punching in my old details, I watch it load. As it comes online, my mouth drops open at the message icon. I have two thousand and ninety three messages. My voicemail is full. My social media icons show similarly ridiculous high numbers.
I open the messages. One thousand nine hundred and sixty-three messages are from Leo. My other friends are there, though those are older. Leo’s last message was from the day he came to the brothel. I open it, heart racing.
The last message was sent at 8:23 p.m.
How could you do this?
I suck in a sharp breath, scroll up, and read the thread from that night.
6:07 p.m. My dad said you bonded. I just…
6:15 p.m. I want to hate you, but I can’t.
7:00 p.m. I know I should say congratulations.
7:03 p.m. I hope you’re happy, I guess.
8:15 p.m. I love you so fucking much, you know that?
8:23 p.m. How could you do this?
Tears well in my eyes. He thought I’d bonded someone else. I imagine if that was me—Leo bonding someone else—and I can’t catch my breath.
“Addie?” Leo says. Bags and gear clatter on the pavement outside the open car door. “Addie? What is it?”
He’s patting me down, his concern in his scent, in his scowl.
“Your messages …” I trail off. “Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He glances at my phone and goes bright red. “Oh my God. I should’ve deleted those. Sorry.”
He rubs the back of his neck, and his scent shifts from concerned to mortified so fast it gives me whiplash.
“Ah, shit,” he says. “Sorry. Here …” He reaches for my phone. “Let me just …”
I lunge away from him.
“No, no way.” I shake my head and grip the phone. “I need to see.”
He doesn’t look happy about it, but he relents with a nod and resumes packing his stuff into the car.
I scroll up, stopping on random messages.
A photo of a stretch of sand, a mountain range in the distance, the sky pink on the horizon and purple blue above it. The message says, You’d hate it here, no ocean. But it smells like you. A smiley face.
Another one. Can’t sleep. I wish I could talk to you. I’ll never get used to not talking to you as the last thing I do every day, the first thing I do every morning.
It was true. Before I was taken, as soon we woke up, we’d message each other. And we’d be texting until one of us fell asleep at night. He was the beginning and the end of my every day.
I blink rapidly, trying to stem the tears.
There’s a photo of a military working dog, with a long message about the dog—Kaiser—and what he does. A video.
Then, I miss your scent.
Then, I hope you’re not cold. Srry, I’m drunk, but do you know how much I think about whether ur cold? It’s winter back in Celo and all I keep thnkin is, ‘Is Addie cold?’
I bite my lip and keep scrolling up. The flow of his words feels as endless as the sea.
A photo of his fighter jet. My new ride. Sunglasses emoji.
Someone has taken a photo of him getting the tattoo—the surfboard encircled with cherry blossoms on his bicep. For you and a love heart.
A simple, I miss you so fucking much, sent at two o’clock in the morning.
And, I don’t know if ur reading these. I hope so.
And, heartbreakingly, I’m scared.
I scroll up and read the whole thread.
3:34 a.m. First real op tomorrow. Not training. For real. T/O at 0500.
3:40 a.m. I wish I could talk to you.
3:47 a.m. I’m scared.
3:50 a.m. I’m not supposed to be, but I am. I’m fucking shit scared.
4:03 a.m. Just in case: I love you. I love you so fucking much. Take care of yourself, okay?
I have to blink back tears.
And more. His random thoughts, his days, his nights, his missives that are long and short and all for me.
“Leo.” I say his name on a reverent breath.
He shrugs, hands gripping the steering wheel as he drives us back to Will’s shack. “I told you. I ah … messaged every day. Looked for you. Sorry, some of those are pretty embarrassing.”
I shake my head. “They’re beautiful,” I say, and I know it’s cheesy, I fucking know. But they are. I thought of him every day. And now I know he thought of me too.
“I’m framing them,” I tell him and smile through my tears, trying to lighten the hell I put him through.
He looks at me, appears ready to object, but then he just relaxes, his smile almost proud.
“Okay,” he says and refocuses on the road. “Just don’t listen to those voicemails.”
I am one thousand percent going to be listening to those voicemails.